Chapter Six #2
We settle into a familiar rhythm, comfortable silence like a blanket between us.
That was always one of my favorite things about Xander.
We could talk for hours about our deepest fears and our most frivolous passing thoughts, but we could also enjoy each other’s company without filling every second with our voices.
I unwrap the final piece, a large raw-edged cut of bloodstone, and set it on the table.
Xander’s hand covers mine on top of the crystal, and worry tightens my throat.
I’d brought the bloodstone for its ability to protect against spiritual interference, but it can also draw up suppressed memories as part of the healing process.
And next to someone recently heartbroken… I force my gaze to Xander’s face.
His eyes are squeezed shut, tears spilling down his cheeks.
“Oh, love.” I tug him to me, wrap my arms around Xander’s back, and press my hands into the soft fabric of his sweater.
“I hate how much I miss him. I hate that I wish we were still together.” Xander tucks his face into the crook of my neck. “What the fuck is wrong with me, Pip? Why can’t I get over him?”
“Because you loved him.” I tighten my grip on my best friend, wishing I could take away this hurt. “And he betrayed you. And sometimes…sometimes it’s easier to want a broken past than face an uncertain future.”
His next breath shudders through him as he tries to collect himself. “I feel so stupid. I should have known. I should hate him.”
“Not hating someone isn’t a weakness,” I say, rubbing soothing circles across his back. “Do you want me to hate him for both of us?”
A wet laugh escapes his throat, and he pulls away, wiping his face. “That would be great.”
Downstairs, Elle calls up to us. Dinner is ready.
Dinner is a simple affair, a lightly dressed salad, oven-roasted chicken, and a delightfully crusty bread slathered in butter, all served with a crisp white wine.
Xander tells me their plans for the B&B.
Beyond being the brains behind all the design aspects, he’ll serve as the host and event planner while Elle—who left her job at an accounting firm to start the B&B—is in charge of managing the business financials, heading up marketing efforts, and keeping the place stocked with baked goods.
For now, she’s also the cook, but she claims her non-baking kitchen skills are middling at best. Based on the meal in front of me, I disagree, but I understand not wanting to cook three meals a day in addition to running her parts of the business.
After dinner, Xander and I tried to help Elle clean up, but she shooed us away. “You two catch up,” she’d said as she herded us toward the stairs. “You can do the dishes after dinner tomorrow.”
Which is how we ended up in my bed, Xander and I sitting cross-legged, facing each other with pillows in our laps.
It feels like we’re nineteen again, hanging out in my dorm room at college, Xander recounting the memory of kissing a boy during freshman orientation.
How it’d felt like his body was truly alive for the first time in his life.
Now, though, he’s telling me about his biggest heartbreak.
At the start of our heart-to-heart, I traced a calming sigil along his palm to help him get through the story.
He tells me about the morning Barrett came home after being out all night.
Xander had been close to calling the police, afraid Barrett had been mugged and left for dead.
Instead, Barrett admitted to a night of infidelity and forced Xander to move out since the lease was in Barrett’s name.
Xander left in a rush and crashed on Elle’s couch while she helped him through the worst parts of the grieving process.
Even though it’s selfish and self-centered, it hurts that I wasn’t the one he reached out to for support.
He didn’t tell me anything about the breakup until he needed my help haunting the B&B.
It digs at a wound I thought I’d healed a long time ago.
As soon as Nanette decided I was useless, I was cast out.
Now, Xander only came to me when he needed my magic.
I shake the thought away. Xander was grieving the best way he knew how.
It’s not like he purposefully chose to exclude me.
Apparently, Elle had moved to the city a few years before he did.
Her place in Queens was only a subway ride from the home he lost to Barrett.
It made sense for him to crash with her instead of driving hours to get to me. Still, he could have called.
Six weeks is a long time to go radio silent about a broken engagement.
Xander pauses his story and holds out a hand.
“I think this is wearing off again.” He waits for me to retrace the calming sigil, sighing as the magic slips over him, dulling the worst edges of his grief.
“In some ways, I’m glad it happened, you know?
If I hadn’t crashed with Lou, this business wouldn’t exist. She took me out after I’d spent a whole week wallowing.
We danced. We drank. We dreamed up a new future, one that didn’t have anything to do with either of our shitty exes. ”
I try to imagine Elle tipsy and making big plans with Xander. It doesn’t fully compute with the serious, semi-hostile woman I’ve spent time with so far. I wonder what heartbreak is in her past, what kind of partners she’s dated. Not that I care.
“And that’s when you came up with the idea for this place?” I guess.
“Yup,” Xander says, really popping on the p. “We were drunk off our asses that night. A lot of our ideas were beyond bonkers, but the bones of this idea were born then.”
“And in the morning,” a new voice chimes in from the open doorway. Elle. “Once we’d sobered up, we both realized how perfect this idea was. We wanted a business of our own. We wanted to spend more time together. It wasn’t just a drunk fantasy.”
“Lou showed up to breakfast with a full business plan drafted out, like the nerd she is,” Xander says fondly.
Elle rolls her eyes.
“But why the haunting?” I press. “You said that part of the idea came before the investors—before Sloane. It’s gotta be more than a marketing hook.”
The humor and warmth leaves Elle’s face in a rush. “It’s personal,” she says in a tone that makes it clear the topic is closed to discussion. She turns her attention to Xander. “Can I borrow Pippa for a moment?”
“Sure.” He unfurls his legs and stands, bending over to kiss the top of my head. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of research planned for your evening.” He crosses the room to Elle and kisses her head, too. “Play nice.”
She squirms out from under his grip. “I’m always nice,” she grumbles, which earns her one of Xander’s hearty snort-laughs. Elle waits for Xander to disappear down the hall before stepping inside. “Is everything okay with the room?”
I nod, sliding off the bed. Sitting among the pillows and fluffy blankets feels too intimate. “I appreciate the extra workspace.”
“You’re welcome to use any of the common rooms. The library, in particular, is excellent for research, but you seemed to like this room when you cleansed the space.”
“Oh. Well…thank you.” I’m surprised she remembers. No, that’s not right. It makes sense she remembered. She watched me like a hawk. I’m surprised she cared. “I appreciate you letting me stay here. It’s so much better than commuting.”
“Hmm,” she says, which seems to pass for a positive acknowledgment. Elle wanders into the study area, her gaze raking over the full table of supplies. Her fingers come to rest on the stack of books. “What’s all this?”
“Research.”
“I thought you were already good at this?”
Her words prickle along my skin, irritating like too-rough fabric. “My knowledge of ghosts begins and ends with how to safely get rid of them. I intend to do this right. Hence, research.”
Elle nods, tilting her head to read the spines. “Smart,” she says at last, the compliment delivered in that same detached, cold tone.
I wonder if that’s just how she sounds, if all the things I’ve weathered like insults weren’t about my competence at all.
Except…none of that matches the carefree, daredevil-like stories I’ve heard from Xander about teenage Elle.
It doesn’t match a dancing, drunk Elle who dreams up haunted B&Bs.
It’s different from the teasing way she acts around Xander.
“And all of this?” She gestures to the crystals and various magical contraptions.
“Tools of the trade.” I join her at the table, pointing to the different crystals as I name them and explain their uses.
She takes it all in, and I watch for any sign of what she might be thinking, what she might be feeling. Her expression betrays nothing…until she spots the only piece of mundane equipment. “Is that a Taser?”
“It’s just a precaution.”
“For what? Burglars?”
“For possessions,” I answer, earning an eyebrow raise. “Electrical currents tear apart spiritual energy. In a worst-case scenario, a Taser is the fastest way to destroy a malevolent spirit that attaches itself to someone.”