Ghost in His Eyes

by Carrie Aarons

  “I inherited it from my family.” She didn’t need to know the details.

  “Right … I thought someone mentioned that.” She stood in the middle of my living room, gawking at everything. “So listen, lunch the other day—”

  I cut her off. “I owe you an apology, it was completely unprofessional of me. It was just … a bad situation.”

  Melissa’s face radiates sympathy. “I didn’t know that you were her. I wasn’t here for everything that happened.”

  Shock slams into me. “Did Carson tell you?”

  Hurt roils in my gut. I didn’t realize he was walking around telling practical strangers about our past.

  Her hands wave into the air. “No, no … he didn’t at all. But we live in the Outer Banks. Of course I know about you, at least from rumors. People around here talk, not that I believe a word. But you know that I’d have heard something, I won’t lie. I just didn’t realize that you were the girl. I’m sorry if I caused any trouble between you and Carson.”

  Her honesty actually eased my worry a bit. “Okay, okay … I believe you. And you didn’t cause anything that wasn’t already coming.”

  Melissa nods her understanding. “So now that we have that out of the way, you can come work for me.”

  I feel my nails digging into my palms, a nervous tic that’s developed over the years. “No, I couldn’t possibly. Feel free to use those graphics, but I can’t continue on. They were just taking up space in my brain and—”

  “Nonsense. You’ll come work for me.”

  “I wouldn’t be working for you, I’d be working for Carson. And I can’t do that.”

  She makes a psh noise, waving her hand at the same time. “Screw whatever his name is. You wouldn’t. I’d be hiring you for my team, and you’d never have to deal with the dear old boss man. Just you and me, developing ideas. Come on, Blake. You know you want to. You live out here among the horses, you see them everyday. You know them best. That is a huge advantage to me, and it would make everything you create so much more relatable to people who are curious about the wild horses.”

  She did have a point. “I would only go through you?”

  This was a terrible idea. Especially after the other night, when I’d let Carson touch me. He got under my skin with the song my father used to play for my mother, the one about regretting letting her go. His proximity had felt like nothing I’d had in a decade, and I was a moth to the flame. It might burn me, but I went ahead despite it all. Carson had held me, really held me. As if the horrific events in my life could just be erased with his two hands. How could I let him that close again?

  But, these were my horses. Even after everyone in my life had left, they were the ones who had stayed. I felt like I owed them this courtesy, and honestly, it was a passion project for me.

  Melissa steps closer, her hazel eyes flashing with a battle almost won. “Only through me, and I’ll double whatever your rate is.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. Not that I was hurting when it came to money, but as the sole earner and my only safety net in life, it was good to have financial security. The little voice in my head warned me off, trying to get me to see reason. But my heart … it had already left the side of the pool, plunging two feet in before the water swallowed me up.

  “Okay, I’ll work for you. But only you. And I get creative control over everything I design.”

  She pumps a fist in the air. “Deal!”

  And then Melissa does something unexpected. She hops across the room and hugs me. Two human arms, wrapping around me in a gesture of warmth. I’m so stunned that I can’t move.

  “I don’t usually hug vendors, but I feel a connection to you.” She backs up. “We should grab coffee sometime, get you out of your single girl cocoon.”

  I can’t help but laugh, a sound that is foreign to my ears. “I kind of like my cocoon.”

  “But you’ll like my world better. So I’ll call you, and we’ll go out. Wait to hear from me!”

  And with that she walks out of my house, slamming the door shut behind her. I’m still so shocked that I can’t move just yet.

  But when I put my fingers to my lips, I find a smile forming there. The first genuine one in what feels like a very long time.

  14

  Blake

  “You guys, maybe we shouldn’t do this.” Joel’s frightened voice reaches me from the darkness.

  I huff, annoyed that he keeps protesting. “Stop being such a baby, Joel Matthew Sayer. We’re doing this.”

  The three of us stand in a row, our faces tilted up to look at the house in the shadows.

  “They say it’s haunted.” Carson’s voice is firm, but I know we’re all thinking what he just said.

  I wave him off. “It’s just abandoned is all. Let’s go.”

  We all agreed that when we turned ten, we’d finally venture into the Horse Shack. It was the abandoned house that sat just over the property line of where houses could be built in Carova. One time, many years ago, a family had lived here before the association who helped the horses told them that no one could live this far out anymore.

  And since then, it had grown into a rumor mill of its own. To some, it was haunted. To others, it housed the dead bodies of horses killed by other horses. I even heard one that said there was a secret trap door in the floor that led to a government lair.

  It was all bullshit of course, and crap because if my dad heard me talking like that he’d wring my neck. But I wanted to do this. It lit up all of the wild and free choices I needed, and my sense of adventure was soaring.

  Carson, Joel and I stuck close to one another, creeping into the shack quietly. It was dark, and we’d told our parents we were going to play on the beach. They’d also wring our necks if they knew we were on horse land, in the dark, with no flashlights.

  A cricket or something sounds from the corner of the house as we enter, and Joel jumps. “What was that?!”

  I hit him. My twin likes to act all tough, but he can never seem to sum up the courage like I can on these adventures. “Shut it, bozo. You’re ruining it.”

  Carson laughs and I puff my chest out. Joel and Carson are usually the duo of the group, but it feels nice to have Carson paying attention to me for once.

  We move farther into the house. There are torn drapes on the windows, and the floors have leaves and dirt all over them. We come to what must have been the kitchen; cabinet doors hang open and an unplugged fridge sits like a dead bug in the corner.

  “Okay, this is creepy. But so cool.” Carson crosses the room, looking inside the appliance. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  “I think that’s enough guys.” Joel wants to leave.

  “Just a little more, promise.” I hug his neck to try and rub some of my curiosity off on him.

  The floorboards squeak as we walk on them, and once we come to the stairs, I stop. “Do you think they’re safe?”

  Carson doesn’t wait to question it, just runs up them. All I want to do is follow the boy who has more guts than I do.

  With Joel tagging behind, we run up the stairs with urgency to see what’s on the next level. And when we do, we’re amazed.

  “Wow.” Carson breathes as we look out at it all.

  Something must have taken the back of the top floor off, because it’s like standing in a dollhouse that has no front. Probably a hurricane that ripped the shingles and siding clear off.

  In that moment, I know we are witnessing something truly special. One of those once in a lifetime things Dad is always talking about.

  The entire wooded area of Carova, sloping all the way down to the bay, presents itself to us like a shining medal in the dark night. Fireflies blink through the trees and brush, lighting up the landscape like a painting created just for our eyes. And down below, the horses roam. They’re out of view for everyone else, but from this angle, we can see their private Mecca.

  “Look, there’s Bob!” Now Joel’s excited, since he can see his favorite stallion trotting over the g
round below.

  Packs of horses dot the scenery, some interacting with each other, and some off on their own, settling in for the night. The water in the bay laps at the shore, you can hear it from our perch just as well as you can in a conch shell.

  “This place is sick, I don’t believe any of those stupid rumors anymore.” Carson sits down, his legs dangling over the edge of the floor that’s been ripped off with the back of the house.

  “Me either.” Joel joins him and I roll my eyes. We practically had to drag him up here.

  I sit too, and we watch in silence for the next half an hour.

  “Let’s make this our fort. Only we know the password.” Carson looks at us and I have to bite my cheek from looking into his eyes for too long.

  I’m not sure why, but lately I can’t help but look at him a little longer than I should. And I think … he’s been looking at me too.

  “Deal. Only we can come here, no one else. No bringing outsiders.” I don’t want them bringing anyone here without me.

  “Should we make a pact?” Joel raises his palm up. “With our blood?”

  I roll my eyes again. “Me and you already have the same blood, stupid. Plus, we don’t have a knife. No … let’s just pinky swear.”

  “Fine.” He sticks his tongue out at me.

  We go through the ritual, locking pinkies one at a time and then kissing our thumbs and pressing them together. The tingling in my hand when Carson touches it is new; it’s something I’ve never felt in my short ten years. My body feels like it’s dancing and flying at the same time, and the butterflies in my stomach make me giddy.

  “This will be our place forever.” His eyes lock on mine as he says it, and I have a feeling those words are only for me.

  15

  Carson

  Becoming a veterinarian wasn’t a choice, but more of a passion. I love working with animals, reading them in a way other people can’t.

  I love watching them thrive; the first case I’d ever gotten in school was a dog that had been beaten and left on the side of the road. I’d nursed him back to health; assisted as he underwent surgeries, helped him in recovery, got the word out about his adoption status. And eventually, he found a family who took him home and loved him to bits.

  It was one of the best moments of my career, and I’ve had numerous other ones like it in the years since.

  But, like any job, there are the cases that are just plain horrible. That have no happy ending.

  And getting a call in the middle of the night with the word emergency used, typically signals the not-so-happy kind of case.

  In minutes, I am up and out of bed, flying into my clothes and grabbing an outdoor pack I set up the day I got here. It holds flashlights, medicine, wraps, and anything else I might need to tend to a sick horse in the wild or at night.

  My tires eat at the beach highway, the lights illuminating the midnight of the sand, the black sea. Carova looms in the night, the houses standing like lighthouses that have since gone dark.

  Within minutes I’m on the main dunes, shredding them and trying to get to the house that called in the emergency. The call had come at one a.m., when a couple had heard a horse shrieking from the ground below. Slowing down and turning off anything that could possibly make noise, I listened.

  And heard a tired whimper from somewhere up ahead.

  “Oh thank God, you’re here. We were worried that no one would actually come.”

  An older man and woman stand on their porch in their robes, her eyes worried and frantic.

  “Of course, ma’am. I’m going to get her the help she needs. And more is on the way.” I’d dispatched for the two other veterinaries and their staff to get to the animal hospital, and for a team with a pickup to come out here after me. While I could treat a horse in the field, I couldn’t transport one if it needed surgery. And technically, we weren’t even supposed to be touching them. But I couldn’t stand by while one died. That’s where I drew the line.

  “What’s wrong with her?” The man asks.

  I kneel down, soothing the horse and letting her smell my hands before I put them on her. She’s whimpering lightly, too tired and in pain now to make any louder noises. I feel her face, her neck, and move down over her body. My hands stop when they get to her abdomen, which is rigid and bumpy. I press a little on her stomach and she rears up.

  “It’s torsion, her gut has twisted. She’s in a lot of pain, and her heart rate is increasing rapidly. I need to get her to the center, she needs surgery immediately,” I answer the couple’s question.

  “What is going on out here?”

  When I pulled in, I hadn’t realized that Blake’s house was only two down from the couple that had called in the emergency. She’s now standing on her porch, in nothing but a long cotton robe and a tank top that I can see peaking out. My mind goes blank for a minute thinking about what’s underneath there.

  “Oh, Blake … sorry to wake you, one of the horses is sick and we called it in. She was crying so loudly, I’m surprised you slept through it.” The older woman talks to Blake from across their porches, but I’m still staring like an idiot.

  The mare whimpers again and I turn my attention back to her, all the while feeling the stare of Blake’s baby blues on my back.

  “I’m going to give her a sedative to calm her and ease some of her pain, so don’t be alarmed.” I pull a needle and a vial of sedative from my pack and load it up. Finding a vein in her neck, I stick the needle and inject the medicine, doing it in one fluid motion. I had a teacher in vet school tell me that if you doubted yourself for even a second, you would never be able to practice good medicine or help an animal fully.

  A minute or two after the injection, she visibly relaxes. And a minute or two after that, the reinforcements show up. A carrier van swings onto the streets, illuminating the scene in front of me with its headlights. I turn, now that the horse is a bit more stable, and lock eyes with Blake.

  Something about the way she’s looking at me has me rooted to the spot, and also wanting to climb up her stairs and take her inside.

  “Hey, man thanks for sedating her for us. How are her vitals?”

  I talk to the vet technicians who came in the van, three of them tending to the horse as I tell them what surgery needs to be done and about the initial findings I deduced. Blake and her neighbors stand on their porches and watch us until the techs and I get the horse into a harness and loaded into the van.

  When they’re finally done, pulling away in the night with the headlights illuminating the sand roads, her neighbors thank me and go back inside.

  I turn to see Blake still standing there, her robe blowing in the wind. Something comes over me like a sickness, clouding my vision and making my lungs work double time. I move swiftly, coming for her two stairs at a time until I grab her up and into my arms.

  As if expecting this all, she watches me stalk toward her, blue eyes flashing with uncertainty. I don’t hesitate, don’t ask. For a brief second, as I thread my fingers through her cornsilk hair, I think she’s going to stop me.

  But she doesn’t.

  In the next instant, my lips are on hers, and all the ghosts of our past leak out, melding between the kiss that could scorch a thousand earths. It’s as hot as the sand on a ninety-degree day, and as rough but serene as the ocean during a hurricane.

  Blake’s hand must find the door, because I’m pushing her inside, her back cascading with the surface of a wall in her entryway.

  Something about standing over the horse’s whimpering form, holding a life in my hands and having her watch over that … brings every single thing flying back at me. This time I saved that life, and I had to do what I should have done ten years ago.

  Go after her. Fight for her.

  The kiss is long and drugging, a mix between exploration and familiarity. For every caress, she has an answer. For every stroke of my tongue on hers, she answers my call.

  I get lost somewhere between breaths, as if she’s pump
ing my heart for me. It’s completely up to her if I shatter or if I soar. My body hums with the feel of her against me, my mind nothing but white noise. The kiss could last hours, it could last seconds. I’m not sure, because with Blake under my fingertips, time ceases to exist.

  A hand on my chest pushes me back, and when I finally open my eyes, her decision is made.

  Her expression is shuttered, the sensual surrender of her figure that existed mere seconds away gone forever.

  “You shouldn’t have touched that horse.” I can’t read her voice.

  “She was going to die.” My hands are still on her waist, boxing her in.

  “It wasn’t your decision to make. You don’t get to choose whether someone lives or dies. Whether someone needs to be saved or not.”

  Now I know we’re not talking about the horses anymore. Blake has no idea what she wants; to let me in or shut me out, and it’s messing her up inside so severely that she’s lashing out at me. But that only makes my blood boil more. I wasn’t responsible for what happened ten years ago, and I’m not responsible now. I’m done letting her blame me.

  "These creatures are wild. Boundless. But someone fenced them in a long time ago and they only know how to survive on what little has been left for them. They're you, Blake. And it breaks my goddamn heart. What happened to the girl with fire in her eyes? Who laughed in the face of danger and could set the demons dancing with one snap of her finger. You've set up all of these mile high walls, fortresses that no one can possibly scale. You trapped yourself in, hiding away from the world."

  I nudge my fingers up under her chin so that she has to look at me, until my eyes pull the honest truth out of her whether I want it or not.

  "You happened to me. You built these walls, stole my wild. The day you killed my brother was the day you killed my dreams. Every single one of them."

  16