Win’s brows lifted. “I thought you said you didn’t have much to do with him?”
“Yeah.” He scratched his beard. “We’ve had a few dealings with Jake Fraser over the years. Although I’d keep my eye on something Winifred if I were you.”
Win pulled a face. If he was about to say something like ‘no funny business under my roof,’ she was prepared to lecture him. It wasn’t on the cards, ever. Luke was her best friend. And now, he was her family.
“Oh, and what’s that?”
John’s eyes twinkled. “Only you gave him a fair licking. He was pretty beat up. But when he left…those scrapes on his knuckles were gone.”
An hour later, a heap of cardboard boxes stood in a wobbly pile in the hallway, threatening to spill out their contents onto the floor any moment. Rowan coughed up dust, vacuuming the room, which had long been John’s den. Only it was a place for his junk, his old records, books, and boxes filled with mementos and family photos. There was a couch in the corner under the window, an old television balanced on top of a filing cabinet, and now an unfolding cot bed. Win hurriedly ran a wet cloth over the surfaces, shoving arm loads of clutter into the boxes before kicking them out of the room with her foot. Luke had been gone for a while and would be back any moment with his own things.
Evan sprayed down the surfaces; she’d pulled her long hair up in a messy bun and wiped her brow. Win threw her a look of disdain, her presence unsettling. Why was she still here? Evan caught her gaze and smiled. “I think we did well considering the time we had,” she chirped, brushing away some cobwebs from the couch. Win shrugged.
“Dad snores,” Win offered. “And Luke finds it hard to study at the best of times. Probably best he had his own space. The house is getting pretty crowded these days.”
Win regretted her comment the moment it slipped out. She bit her lip and pretended she didn’t notice Evan’s face crumple in disappointment. Win sighed. God, what is wrong with me? She thought of Grayson, missing him with every part of her. She wished she could disappear right now and go and find him. He always made her feel better, would tell her she was unreasonable or moody. Win straightened, running the damp pad across the old desk, letting it collect grey dust filaments. When she turned, Evan was behind her, wafts of honey and cinnamon overwhelming.
“You miss him…Grayson?”
Win folded her arms; she was edgy, cornered like a rabbit. She perched on the edge of the couch. “It’s for the best. And I really don’t want to talk about it.”
Evan exhaled, her brows lifting. She was attempting to be light, but Win could tell she was edging toward something. “You don’t like me, do you?”
Win made a noise in her throat. She couldn’t look at her. “What…no. Why do you say that?”
Evan chuckled, mirroring Win’s closed-off pose, arms crossed over her chest. “How about the fact you can’t look at me?”
Win bounced off the couch, her shoulder brushing Evan’s as she pushed past her. “I don’t have a problem with you. I don’t want to see my sister hurt, is all.”
Evan caught her by the wrist, her fingers firm enough for Win to glance down at them. Evan’s eyes darkened. She was upset. “I wouldn’t ever hurt her.”
Win prised her wrist out of Evan’s hand. “Look, we don’t know each other very well. Rowan has a tendency to be a little…co-dependent. She was with a guy for years who made her feel like she needed him. She couldn’t get by without him.”
“I know all of that. But perhaps you don’t see what I see. She’s strong. And powerful. She sure as hell doesn’t need me.”
Win backed away, knowing she was brewing for another argument. She didn’t want to keep fighting. She smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I just worry about her.”
Evan lightened, her eyes shining. “Of course you do.”
“We were apart for five years. I feel like I just got her back.”
Evan placed a warm hand on Win’s shoulder. “Win, I’m here to help. My relationship with Rowan was a coincidence, something neither of us planned. I never want to come between you two.”
Win pressed her lips together, trying to keep any snarky comments locked inside her mouth. She didn’t trust herself. The tension was quickly broken by Luke kicking open the porch door with his sneaker. He had a cardboard box under one arm and pulled a suitcase along with his free hand. Evan smiled, skipping across the hall and prising the box under his arm. “Is that all?”
“It’ll do for now.” He stopped, his glasses slipping off his nose. “The old place feels like a tomb. Even though I never saw much of him, knowing he’s really gone makes the house feel empty.”
“What about his funeral?” Win asked. Rowan sprinted down the stairs with a fresh set of sheets for Luke’s bed.
Luke shrugged. “I think Judy wants to hold the wake at the house. She’s offered to organize it all, after the removal men come in. There’s a bunch of stuff being taken to the Lincoln Museum, old paintings, and things. My dad is flying in…” he broke off when Rowan stiffened. The mere threat of Spencer’s presence enough to make her go cold. “But everyone else is staying in Hawaii.”
Win reached out and rubbed his arm. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he answered in his usual nonchalant tone. “Dad is flying in for the hearing …and the wake.”
“That’s going to be tough…losing his son and burying his father in the space of a week,” Evan attempted to be light, cheery, but it fell flat.
Luke grinned and wagged a finger at her. “Oh no, don’t go feeling sorry for him,” he warned. “He lost that privilege years ago.”
Evan massaged his shoulder, the tender touch making him slink back uncomfortably. “At least you have us girls to look after you,” she said breezily, taking his suitcase out of his hand.
When she’d gone, Win laughed. “Yes, exactly what Luke needs…more women in his life,” she joked.
“Your sister’s girlfriend is hot, though,” he sniggered when she was out of earshot. “I wouldn’t mind being looked after….”
“Don’t you dare!” Win slapped his wrist with the damp washcloth.
Win worked with Luke for the remainder of the afternoon, cleaning the den and helping him pack away some clothes. In terms of material belongings, Luke didn’t own a lot. His iPad, his books, his kindle, and laptop were about the only things he had of value. At the bottom of a box, Win found a small collection of sports trophies, the metal ornaments tugging on her heartstrings. Some of them were dated back to when he was only eight years old. She wondered if anyone had actually been there to watch him win one, to cheer him on. Luke was sitting cross-legged on his bed, trying to hook his computer to the pitiful excuse for Wi-Fi.
“Don’t you have any photos?” Win asked, taking a couple of his trophies and setting them out on the desk. “I saw some in the office at Mercy when I was using the shredder. Did you want to keep any?”
“Nope,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the computer screen, his chin wrinkled in annoyance as he tapped at the keys. His tone was as clipped as when she asked Jake if he wanted his memory box. “I’m fairly certain Carla doesn’t have any portraits of me on their mantle in Hawaii.” He lifted his gaze and grinned wickedly. “I wonder how long Spencer will need before he finally pushes her out.”
Win frowned, plopping down on the bed beside him. She winced as a tight muscle pinged in her back. Even though they’d forgotten their argument, her body hadn’t quite recovered. She watched his hands moving across the keyboard, realizing her grandpa had been right. All his cuts were healed, just faint red marks. She wondered if he had noticed it.
“That’s not very nice,” she chastised him. “Isn’t that what he did to your mother?”
“Yep.” Luke hit a key and cried in relief. “Thank god…I thought I’d be cut off from civilization.”
Win ignored him. “How did he do it? Get her to leave, I mean?”
Luke was trying to sound casual
, but his shoulders had tightened. He fiddled with the wireless connection, Win had no idea what he was doing, but he seemed pretty adept at it. Better than her dad anyway. “Oh, you know the usual stuff…things like spiders in her bed, notes tapped to the steering wheel of her car. He killed all her chickens one time.”
“What!” Win screeched, and he sniggered, but his eyes lowered.
“That was Spencer…you know the guy who threw you in a pit when you were six and tried to stone you to death? He is awful.”
The conversation was struggling to remain light; Win’s curiosity was too much. “Did he ever hurt you?”
“No,” he replied, his gaze darkening. “But I know he did worse things to her. My mom. He pushed her down the stairs once; he locked her in the attic as well. The trouble was Dad was out of town, and Spencer was the golden boy. No one believed me…or her. I guess it got so bad she left.”
Win stared hard at his profile. “Luke…she is alive right?”
He smiled sadly. “Yeah. I know because I watched her drive away.”
Win made an inaudible gasp, and she covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry…don’t you want to find her?”
Luke snapped his laptop shut, signaling the end of the conversation, having stomached enough questioning. “She knows where I am, Win.”
“Look at you two!” Ben’s voice startled them. He grinned, leaning on the doorframe. “One minute, you are tearing each other’s hair out, and now your best friends.” He was teasing them, but Win threw her father a look of exasperation while Luke kept his eyes down, blushing.
“Dad, you’re so embarrassing.” Win hurtled past him out of the door.
“I was going to town to get groceries…Evan is cooking.” Ben caught Win’s eye roll and nudged her sharply in the ribs. “Cut it out, will you? She’s nice.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to,” he replied, casting Luke another glance. “Do you need anything in town, Luke? Toiletries? Anything you forgot?”
“Nah, I’m good, Mr. Adler. I have a shift tonight, so I got to get ready, and I’ll eat at the bar.”
When he left, Luke threw her a conspiratorial smile.
“Stop being such a whiney little bitch, Winifred!”
He cackled when she cried out in exasperation, picking up a plastic glass and hurling it at him. When he fluidly reached out and caught it, she laughed.
“No wonder you’re on the basketball team!” she marveled. “I’m not whiney. I don’t trust her yet. No one is that nice…are they?”
“Not in my limited experience.” Luke patted her on the back, forcing her out the door. “I need to change for work. Get out of here.”
After Luke left, Win endured the enforced politeness around the dinner table. Evan made spaghetti. Win stabbed at it with her fork, trying to ignore the fact it smelled wonderful, and she was starving. When she caught Rowan staring at her across the table, she huffed and gave in. When the tomato-infused meat slid down her throat and hit her stomach, she realized how hungry she was and didn’t stop until her plate was clear. When she looked up, her father was pouring himself and John another glass of red wine, and Evan was gazing at her appreciatively. Win watched the red liquid sloshing into the clear glass, her incisors pricking. It looked like blood. She shook the feeling away as soon as it had come.
“That was great…wasn’t that delicious, Win?” Ben kicked her foot under the table. Win was still chewing but managed a faint mumble of thanks.
Rowan cleared the plates, scraping leftovers into a tray. Evan busied around, but Win got to her feet, giving her a smile. “You should sit. I’ll help clean up.” It was a genuine offer; she did feel like a spare part, the youngest at the table with nothing to say. She loaded the dishwasher and filled the sink with fluffy bubbles. Eventually, when the table was cleared, Evan rose from her seat.
“I should get going,” she said. “I haven’t been home for two nights, and you guys have been so welcoming. You must be sick of me.”
“Nonsense, Evan, you’re always welcome.” John patted his distended stomach, full of food. “You can stay forever.”
Evan laughed and grabbed her coat from the hall. “No, I should really get home. It’s a full house with Luke coming home here tonight as well.”
Rowan frowned. “At least wait for dessert!” she pleaded.
Evan laughed and rubbed her stomach. She stood on tiptoe to give Rowan a kiss on the side of her face. “Meet me for a run in the morning?” she said, squeezing her hand, much to Rowan’s disappointment.
Rowan walked her to the front door, the hushed whispers of their conversation filtering through to the kitchen. Win momentarily pricked up her ears but thought better of it. Glancing up from her fizzing glass of coke, she saw her father pinning his gaze on her.
“What?” she cried, wiping the guilty look off her face. Ben shook his head.
Rowan watched as Evan drove away and stalked back into the kitchen with her arms crossed, confusion firmly etched across her face. “Did you say anything to Evan?” she asked her sister.
Win squirmed. “Nothing,” she lied, flicking her gaze at the wall, determined not to make eye contact.
“She seemed distant, not herself,” Rowan mused. “Do you not like her?”
“Is that what she said?” Ben interjected, and Rowan puffed haughtily.
“No, she’s too nice. But I can tell. She said it’s a full house, and she didn’t want to get in the way.”
Ben drummed his fingers on the table. “Well, in a way, she is right. There is a lot going on right now, and perhaps we all need some space.”
Rowan’s face fell, utterly crushed. Her eyes welled up. “I knew you would have a problem!”
“No, Rowan, don’t blame him.” Win tried to help. She’d inadvertently caused a rift. Ben had come to her defense, and it backfired. The last thing she wanted was for Rowan and Ben’s fledging relations to run backward, after how far they’d come. Ben scraped his chair back as John slammed the bottom of his glass down on the table, nearly splintering the stem. Blood-colored wine splattered over the white cloth, seeping into the cotton.
“I’ve had about enough today of arguments!” her grandfather barked. “Now I suggest you all go your separate ways and cool off. We have a guest in this house now, and we need to put our best foot forward, do you understand?”
They all mumbled a grudging yes and apology to one another before he stood, swiping up his glass and the remainder of the wine. “Now I’m going to watch my CSI Miami. And if that boy has fiddled with my cable stations, I shall be the only one in this house who has a right to be pissed.”
Ben bit back a laugh. Win grabbed the moment to scuttle away to the sanctuary of her own room before Rowan could call out her name. She slammed her door shut, harder than she needed to, flopping on the bed. She ached and was exhausted, relieved to finally be alone. She stripped into her nightgown, fiddling with the flimsy straps as she stared longingly out the window, fighting the temptation to haul up the frame and creep out into the darkness.
She sat on the ledge, telling herself she could content herself with her books for the night. Or she could wait for Luke to come home and go and bother him. He wouldn’t be home until after midnight, and Win wondered if he would call Ella instead and tell her the good news. Win stared at the silhouette of the trees against the balmy night sky, wondering where Grayson was and what he was doing. Was he out there watching the house right now hidden in shadow? He always walked her back at night; always saw her safely to the edge of the wood.
Win leaned her head against the frame, pulling a light blanket over her legs, propping her feet on the ledge. At least she could sit here, and he would see her, could look upon her and know how much she missed him, even if she couldn’t see him.
Win fought back new tears. She hoped he would know how much she loved him. And she wished she’d told him when she had the chance.
Eighteen
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THE TOWN SWELTERED under immense heat, the kind which made the asphalt bubble on the road. Shops on Main Street closed their doors early on account of their air conditioners breaking or the fridge freezers failing under strain. Still, the bar in town remained open, by a miracle, it seemed, the sidewalk packed with tables filled with patrons.
Win doodled on her notepad, scribbling pictures on the inside of her notebook when she was supposed to be finishing off the essay they’d been set before school had closed. Days had passed since Luke had moved in, now he was recovering from his trip to Boston. Her hair was damp on the back of her neck as she leaned lazily across the table, squinting as the last rays of the sun peeked across the roof of the bar.
Lifting her chin, she watched as a couple of kids she knew from school entered the bar. They were chatting animatedly as they wandered inside, bumping shoulders with Ella as they passed. Ella brushed back her hair and spoke to them casually for a few moments before hurrying back inside with her tray of empties. They watched her go in and whispered to one another.
It was nearing seven, and the sun was setting, the heat cooling and breeze picking up. Win felt the heat rising under her pale skin, having spent the last few hours sitting on the hood of her grandpa’s truck, casually reading while he was fixing the gasket underneath. Her skin was pink, a sure sign she’d had way too much sun. She yawned and stretched, glancing at her watch to see if Ella was nearing the end of her shift. She had promised to meet her, and Win had agreed, more than anything, she needed to be distracted. And Ella also had promised her some news.
“Hey, Win,” a voice called from behind her, and she glanced up. A guy she recognized had taken one of the free tables. He was called Jay; and she was sure he used to hang around with Luke and Rosene. He was long-legged and blonde, with a square jaw and dark brown eyes. “How’s your summer been?”
Wild Spirit: Huntress Page 19
