Chapter 4 Kate #2
His curmudgeonly face softened for a microsecond, then his familiar scowl returned.
“Don’t go getting sentimental on me, girlie.
I’m just here because Rita’s off on some pansy-ass girl trip.
” He said it as if he was annoyed, but I knew he was happy for her, off on a trip with old college friends. And, presumably, safely out of danger.
“If it’s all the same to you,” Eddie continued, “I’m gonna stay until this is settled.”
I smiled. “I was hoping you would.”
Then he was gone, and I was alone with the cold fireplace and the weight of everything pressing down on me.
But I couldn’t rest. Not yet, and I hurried to catch up with Stuart.
“Hey,” I said as he approached his bedroom door. The one that should be our bedroom.
“You okay? “I asked.
He nodded, but his eyes had that faraway look—the one that told me part of him was still wherever the visions took him. “Just need to sit for a minute. They take it out of me.”
I followed him inside. The room was dim, lit only by a small lamp on the nightstand. He settled into the armchair by the window rather than the bed, already more himself than he’d been in the dining room.
“Do you remember anything else?” I asked, perched on the edge of the bed across from him. “About the prophecy? Anything that might help us figure out what’s coming?”
He shook his head slowly. “Just fragments. Images that don’t make sense. A door. Blood on stone.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s like trying to hold water. The harder I grip, the faster it slips away.”
“It’s okay. We’ll work with what we have. Maybe—I don’t know—make sure we’ve found every door in this spooky old house and test the thresholds with holy water.
He nodded. “Couldn’t hurt.”
Silence settled between us, heavy with everything we weren’t saying. I watched his profile in the lamplight—the new lines around his eyes, the gray at his temples that hadn’t been there a year ago. He looked tired, but not broken. Just...different. Like someone who’d seen things he couldn’t unsee.
“I could stay tonight,” I said. “In case you have another vision, or—”
“Kate.” His voice was gentle. Final. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to,” I said. But did I? Or was this guilt talking? Guilt over the feelings I couldn’t quite bury for Eric, the man who wasn’t my husband anymore? Guilt for dragging Stuart into this life in the first place?
I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that I missed my husband. Everything in my personal life was a huge, freaking mess, but I missed Stuart. I missed the man he was. And he wasn’t letting me know the man he’d become.
“I know that what happened changed you,” I said softly. “And I know that it’s hard. But I also know that I don’t want to lose you. I need you. And so does Timmy. We love you. And you can move back to the master bedroom anytime.”
His eyes locked on mine. “I love you both, too,” he said.
I swallowed. “But?”
He rubbed his temples, his eyes narrowing as if the dim light hurt. “I need time, Kate. I need time to figure out who I am again. Hell, I need time to figure out what I am.”
“You’re a good man. A good father. You’re the guy on deck as the business guru of this school. You’re my husband. And I love you.”
He nodded slowly, but said nothing, and something in his eyes made my chest ache. For years, he’d seen only what I’d shown him of my demon-hunting life, and that had been exactly zilch. I’d kept it a secret for far too long, keeping him from seeing the real me.
Now, he sees too much. And I have to wonder how much he’s seen of me. Of Eric. There was only that one, foolish, desperate time when I’d believed that Stuart was gone forever. But it had been enough to slide Eric back into my heart and my dreams. And my desires.
Did Stuart see that?
Did I secretly want him to? Because then, at least, maybe I’d jar some emotion out of him?
Maybe the bland shell that fate and a high-demon had wrapped around him would shatter, and we’d have it out—accusations and secrets and kisses and anger hurled like glass to shatter. But at least it would be there.
But I can’t go there now. Not when everything between us is so damn fragile. Not when it might just be my guilt that makes me think that he already knows.
Because if he doesn’t, I don’t want to tell him. Not yet. Not until he’s stronger. Especially since it was just that one time.
“Go get some sleep,” he said. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got budget reports to review in the morning anyway. New semester means new expenses.”
I almost laughed. Because there he was. The Stuart I’d married, peeking past the shell. Not because he wanted his wife, but his work awaited.
“Fine,” I said crisply, and was almost to the door when his voice stopped me.
“Kate.”
I turned back.
“We’re going to be okay,” he said quietly, but with a certainty that surprised me.
“Is that what your visions tell you?”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face—the first real smile I’d seen from him in weeks. “No. It’s what my heart says.”
I stood there for a moment, caught between wanting to go back to him and knowing I shouldn’t. And knowing that he’d probably push me away again, anyway.
Instead, I matched his smile. “Goodnight, Stuart.”
“Goodnight, Kate.”
I closed the door softly behind me and stood in the dark hallway, pressing my back against the wall, trying to remember how to breathe.
Antonio Russo was dead. A powerful demon was lurking about. We had a prophecy that nobody understood, but that clearly involved Eric, Allie, or Jared. I’d walked in on my daughter in bed with her vampire boyfriend, and three new students would be arriving in less than fourteen hours.
Just another day in my overly complicated life.
But whatever that prophecy foretold, I intended to be ready.
Because Kate Connor didn’t play defense.
I played to win.
Especially when my daughter was in the crosshairs.