by Sabre, Mason
“Sure,” I said. “Very spontaneous indeed. Living the hell out of life. And then, there’s this span of five seconds before she … Are you sure you don’t want to tell her?” he paused and asked Rosie.
“Ohhhh no-no. You finish, Dr. Sexy pants.”
He gave a laugh that tickled her stomach because it sounded so genuine, just as genuine as his hand gently stroking her back. “She kissed me,” he went on. “She walked right over and planted her beautiful lips on mine. And kissed me. I had never been kissed by a complete stranger before but the second her lips touched mine, I realized it. She was not a stranger. This beautiful, gorgeous, sexy woman, was my angel, my soul mate.”
Rosie fought to appear like she’d heard the story a hundred times but it was hard. She’d never heard anything so sweet outside of a book. “Awwww, honey, you really thought that? You never told me that part.” Rosie turned in his lap and gave him loud, smacky, childish kisses.
“So how long have you lived here?” Lacey asked over the racket she made.
“Oh, only a couple of months,” Josh said. “That’s why it’s in such shoddy shape. I’ve got the contractor’s scheduled to start remodelling and bringing the place to its proper value. Did you know this is considered one of the most haunted homes in England?”
Rosie laughed, an idea springing on her. “I forgot about his side hobby. He loves to write. He buys old homes and fixes them up. He writes stories while he does.”
The odd look on Lacey’s face was priceless. He couldn’t have picked a better topic because her sister hated scary stuff. At least she did when they were growing up. “Interesting,” she said. “Why do they think this place is haunted?”
“Oh,” Josh began. “The story goes that a woman and her son lived in it. He was an only child and she didn’t know who the father was. She was a sophisticated call girl; I think was the title. Anyway, the mother was cruel to the boy and rumor had it she let her customers have their way with the son. When he grew up, he took revenge. Soon, the men came, but they never came out.” Josh lowered his voice. “They found eighty-six bodies right underneath these floors. The freaky thing was,” he continued. “His mother was the first to go. After, he dressed like her and resumed her job, taking callers. And one by one, he tied them up, and had his evil way with each. Then he buried them alive under the floor and did ballet to the tune of their begging cries that grew weaker and weaker, until there were no more.
“And then …” he shot out, only to pause dramatically. “He’d take the next caller.”
Rosie had to laugh for reals. “Oh my God, that’s a great story, baby,” she said. “Is this one of your horror writing projects?”
“Well, it’s the one I’m making up for this home.”
“So it’s not true?” Lacey appeared pissed that he’d lied while thoroughly glad he had.
“Of course it’s not true,” he said with a mild chuckle. “The houses I buy always come with some grand story that has caused the marketing value to drop. They’re houses. Houses don’t get possessed. Only the people living in them.”
Rosie fought the snicker at seeing Lacey’s face back to disturbed. He was being such a shit. A very sweet shit but still. Then she remembered. There was a lot about Josh she didn’t know. He had all those notebooks too. Maybe he did write for a hobby. Would explain why he was so good with making things up on the fly.
“It’s a fun investment game for him,” Rosie said.
“And it’s great for my stories,” he reminded.
“Huh,” Lacey said. “So what’s the names of your books?”
“Oh, I don’t publish them,” he said. “God no. It’s a hobby. I’ve no need for money or fame, it’s all for funsies.”
“Funsies,” Lacey repeated, not hiding how ridiculous she thought the term was. She suddenly stood with a sigh. “I don’t mean to ruin the Cinderella party here but I’m tired. Where am I sleeping?”
“The coffee is nearly done,” Josh said. Though he sounded disappointed, Rosie knew he was the opposite which made her want to laugh.
“It’s nearly midnight,” Lacey muttered from the next room. “And they call us he crazy Americans. I’ll take the couch and find a hotel tomorrow,” she finished.
Rosie hopped up and turned to Josh, who stood and promptly kissed her.
“Honey?” he muttered on her mouth. “Baby? What other terms of endearment do you have for me?” His hand locked on her butt for a squeeze and she didn’t hold back her smile.
“Whatever you want Mr. Fibby pants.”
“I do write,” he whispered in offense.
“I knew it,” she said back. “You have to let me read some day.”
“Yes, of course. Ten years after I pass, maybe.”
“Ten years after you pass out?” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “You plan to keep me around that long?”
“There is a basement …”
She smacked his chest and kissed him right on his grin. “Let’s go make her feel like we care.”
“And then we can go to bed? No hanky panky though,” he said. “I’m cream crackered.”
“You’re hungry?”
Josh bellowed a laugh. “Get your notebook. Cream crackered … knackered.”
Rosie raised an eyebrow. Josh smirked.
Oh God he was so much fun. No hanky panky. Knackered. She knew he would probably never be too knackered for that. Not if she had anything to do with it.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Josh
Josh rolled onto his side to find Rosie still lost in blissful sleep. Her gentle snores warmed his heart and made him smile as he watched her. He tucked a stray hair from her face, making her bat his hand away absently. Could she be any more perfect for him? More beautiful? She was like a dream he wasn’t sure was really there, lying beside him. He could watch her all day if she allowed it.
The bedroom clock said that it was just after six in the morning. Late for him. He’d never been a good sleeper—a consequence of life with his mother, always having to listen out for the next attack or to be on guard for her next mood. It wasn’t so bad, though. It meant he could enjoy more of his day.
He slid down to the foot of the bed and reached for his shorts, pulling them on. His picked up his jeans and shirt from when Lacey arrived and carried them to the bathroom as quietly as he could manage. Relief washed through him when the door closed. Closing Rosie in with a soft click, leaving her to her beauty slumber.
He dressed quickly, brushed his teeth and followed his usual morning routine. Another dreaded habit from his mother … always doing everything in order, every day. It was the best way not to get into trouble or not to be bundled under the stairs for hours on end, for being, what did she call it? A lazy little fuck … one of her many favourite names for him. Not him. No. William. Mind you, if he’d had William as a child, maybe he’d have locked him under the stairs too, either that or killed the little shit and put everyone out of their misery.
The lounge door was slightly open when Josh went down the stairs. Lacey was sitting on the chair by the front window, book in her hand, her back perfectly straight. How awful it must be to never relax, even when just sitting like that.
“Good morning,” Josh said, poking his head around the door and trying to sound as happy as possible. In truth, he knew she was watching him … more than watching him. The way her brow furrowed, wrinkling her perfect forehead as she scrutinised him. Waiting for him to fuck up so she could report home to mummy dearest that her sister had caught a loser. “Did you sleep well?”
“As well as you can be, sleeping on a sofa,” she said.
“Yes.” He raked a hand through is hair. “I’m really sorry about that. We would have got a bed ready for you today. We didn’t expect you to be here so early.”
Lacey closed her book, resting it on her lap. “Well that’s our Rosie for you. Always does everything last minute. She should have had the beds ready the moment she knew that we were coming.”
>
“Yes …erm. Would you like some coffee? Tea?” he asked hitching a thumb over his shoulder to the kitchen. “You must be hungry.”
“I’m positively famished,” she said and it took a lot for Josh not to snigger at her words. Was she trying to sound well to do with big English words in the Motherland? “Perhaps I could use the restroom first?”
“Of course. I will put the kettle on.”
“Yes,” she said in a tone that Josh wasn’t so happy about but let it go. If she wanted to be snooty, she could. It was no big deal. He took himself to the kitchen, opening the back door the way he always did. It was a habit too from being small. When William’s mother had had one too many guests and the place would stink of stale smoke, alcohol and sex. The place would be so thick with it that he used to be sure the putrid stench would stick to his clothes. So in the mornings, he always opened the door to let the air in.
He filled the kettle with water and put that on to boil before warming the toaster up. Lacey came down after ten minutes. Josh decided to make coffee. He figured it was the best bet. After all, she was American.
“I don’t know how you like your coffee?” he admitted when she came into the kitchen.
She glanced around the room, eyeing up everything from the old wooden kitchen cabinet to the new little juicer he had on the windowsill. “Do you have any water? Spring?”
“Yes.” He opened the fridge and pulled out a fresh bottle.
Lacey hesitated before taking it as if she was gaging where on the bottle she should grab hold. “Do you have a glass? Lemon?”
“Fresh?”
“Yes.”
He nodded, hurrying to the cabinet for a glass and a board to chop the lemon. When he fixed her drink, he handed it back to her. “Have you been to England before?” he asked trying to find a question to break the ice and not be stereotypical English and talk about the weather. It was wet. Simple as that. Always wet.
“No, this is my first time here,” she said, sitting herself at the small kitchen table. “You’re coping okay with my sister?” she said, leaning back.
“Toast?” he offered.
She nodded. “Low fat butter please.”
“What do you mean about your sister? Rosie is wonderful.”
Lacey smirked. “For now. Seriously, it was a relief when she announced she was going to England to work. I worried about Mom and Dad and the strain she always put them through with her problems.”
“Her problems?” he buttered her toast and placed it down on the table.
“She hasn’t told you?” Lacey picked up one of the slices of bread, peeking under it. Did she think he’d hidden something there? “She tried to kill herself you know? Did she tell you that?”
Josh’s insides tensed at that news but he made damn sure not to show it. He got his own plate of toast, along with the jam jar and sat down with his coffee opposite Lacey. It was only polite, he figured. “No, she didn’t tell me that. Why?” he couldn’t imagine it. Why would his Rosie try to end her life? She was beautiful, perfect. It made his heart squeeze and he wanted to rush up the stairs to kiss her and tell her that he was here now and nothing would hurt her so much that she didn’t want to live any longer.
Lacey smirked. “A boy. She gets quite clingy you know. Our mother had to get her assessed.”
“That’s terrible.”
“I know. It almost broke mother’s heart to do it. Rosie was kicking and screaming. It was too much for Mom. She has a sweet heart. We told Rosie that maybe she needed to take her drama somewhere else.”
Josh leaned back in his seat, suddenly not hungry. “You turned her away when she was going through a bad time?” It was one thing that he was alone … William was alone when his life had turned to a piece of shit, but it was another for Rosie to be abandoned in that way.
“Oh don’t worry your head,” she said easily. “Your sweet Rosie has always been the little one for the drama parade.”
“Don’t you think …” Josh cut off when his phone rang in his pocket, disturbing and startling him. “Just a second,” he said, standing up and pulling his phone out. His heart sank when he saw the name across the top. Maria. “Hello,” he said with dread in his voice, waiting to hear her dulcet tones droning on with its misery.
She didn’t speak. He was met with the loud sound of sobbing and sniffling. Someone trying to get their words out, but not able to form them.
“Maria? Is everything okay?”
“T-they d-d-dropped me,” she snivelled. “They went away and left me.”
He covered the mouth piece with his hand. “I just need to go outside to take this. Excuse me a moment.”
Maria was sobbing down the phone. He could hear her as he walked without having to put it to his ear. Maybe then she would get past the woe is me shit and straight to what she wanted.
“Oh William,” she cried. “I don’t like it here. They always hurt me.”
“Who hurt you?”
“The fag and his fag friends,” she said, her tone going from sobbing to her usual vulgarity in the space of a heartbeat. This was her act. She could cry, she could whine and then a moment later, it was like she had forgotten she was supposed to be upset. “Don’t touch me …” she shrieked. “Get your filthy fucking hands off me.”
“Maria?”
She didn’t answer him.
“Maria, if you just let us help you,” Josh heard a voice in the background say.
“Help. Help,” she squealed making Josh have to pull the phone away from his ear or go deaf. He was going to have to go there and deal with her shit. He glanced up to his bedroom window. The curtains were still closed. Rosie was still sleeping. He’d have to leave her with her sister. But he had no choice.
“Maria,” Josh shouted down the phone, but she wasn’t hearing him. It sounded like a fight was occurring on the other end. It probably was, but she wouldn’t be the victim. “I’ll be there soon,” he said, shutting off the phone. She wouldn’t notice.
His chest tightened as he walked into the house. Fucking Maria. All the god damn time. Lacey was sitting at the table, she had her phone to her ear. She raised her hand like it was suddenly her house and he was a nosey child, intruding. He held his hand up in apology and walked through the kitchen, glad to skip exiting pleasantries with her.
Rosie was still wrapped in the blankets when he went in the room, not so careful about noise this time. He crouched down to the side of the bed so that his face was near hers. He smiled at her. She really was the sunshine in his days. No matter what shit she had gone through, she was his now.
He touched a hand to her face, stroking across her cheek. Warmth pouring into his heart as he did it. He rubbed his thumb across her jaw, following the line. Rosie sucked her breath in sleepily and half opened her eyes, a smile forming at the corners of her mouth.
“Hey,” he whispered to her.
“Hey,” she said back, turning and stretching with an arm above her head.
He leaned in and kissed her lightly on the mouth and then settled himself back down. “I have to pop out a little while,” he said. He didn’t want to. Not just because he didn’t want to see Maria again, but he didn’t want to leave her.
“Now?” Rosie said, her yes coming open properly. “What for?”
“Emergency.” He swallowed hard, sighing. “Maria called. I’m sorry. I have to go and deal with her. Will you be okay with Lacey?”
“Maria? Again?” She got on her elbows.
He hated the way her voice sounded so hurt from just that one thing. He smoothed her hair back, pushing his face closer to hers and feeling the warmth of her breath against his face. “I won’t be long. I just have to do some shit. Lacey is in the kitchen.”
“Shit,” Rosie gasped, sitting up more, the blanket slipping and exposing her breasts for a second. Any other moment, he would have taken the chance to maul her, but she caught the blanket and covered herself. “How late is it?”
“Not that late,” he said.
“Half sevenish maybe.” He leaned into her. “I have to go, Okay?” He kissed her. Pressing his mouth against her and tasting her enough that he could take it with him. “I’ll see you after.”
He stood and left before she could ask more. Before she could complain and before he would break from the worried expression on her face.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Rosie
Rosie headed downstairs, praying for the right words with her sister. She was good at saying all the wrong things or the things that seemed to make her sister go on the defence. Who was she kidding? Everything made her defensive with Rosie.
“Morning sis,” Rosie said cheerily, entering the kitchen.
Lacey sat at the table, holding her coffee cup with both hands. “Hey,” she said.
Rosie fetched a cup and poured her coffee, ignoring the flash of pain. “Josh had to run some errands.” She tossed a smile over her shoulder, pulling the sugar bowl to her. “Was thinking we could see the village? You’ll love it.”
“I’d like to find a hotel.”
“Are you sure? I can get a room ready today, no problem.”
“Mom wants you to come home to take care of this business.”
Rosie paused with her spoon mid-air. “Why?”
“Dad isn’t well,” she said.
Fear gripped Rosie’s stomach. “What’s wrong? Why didn’t she tell me? How …”
She waved her hand barely. “They think it’s prostate.”
“What … like …”
“Cancer.”
“Oh my God,” Rosie said, sagging onto the counter. She left her cup and went on numb legs to the table. “When did this happen?”
Her sister aimed caramel eyes at Rosie and she realized something was missing. Mischief. God, she was telling the truth. But there was more, she felt it. “Are you okay Lacey?”
Her eyes dropped with the raise of her brows. “David and I are getting divorced.” She shrugged and turned her cup around. “Caught him sleeping with that bimbo secretary. In his office.”
