Page 27 of Chasing Home
I hide my confusion behind a blank expression, pretending that I’ve been paying attention when I damn well wasn’t. God, I’m bound to make a fool of myself one of these days if I can’t keep myself out of my head.
Johnny doesn’t seem to suffer from the same lack of concentration as I do. He replies in an instant, having not missed half of the conversation. “Of course. You don’t even have to ask.”
Brody releases a sigh of relief, and the arm he has slung around Anna’s shoulder relaxes some. She gazes up at him dreamily and rubs his chest in slow circles. It’s a casual movement, and I latch onto it, thinking back to a time where I would have touched a man that easily just because I wanted to.
It was a long, long time ago. Back when I was a book nerd spending my days in the front row of lectures and my nights tucked in the empty corners of closed libraries. I wasn’t exactly a wild one, but my ex didn’t care. I think he preferred me nice and tame. It made it easier for him to control me and our life. But never again. I’m not the same person I was then.
“Was the cut deep? Wade never mentioned it earlier,” Garrison states, swaying slightly to the music playing with Poppy in his lap at the edge of the table.
They pulled up a chair after disappearing for a few minutes shortly after arriving. It only took one look at them when they got back to realize why they left and what they were doing. Unless Garrison’s into wearing red lipstick smeared along his throat and staining his white button-up.
Everyone teased them, but I was content simply watching everyone’s interactions.
Poppy rolls her head against her boyfriend’s chest and rubs her cheek against his sternum. “It’s not deep at all. Brody’s being a mother hen again.”
“I’m not bein’ a mother hen. She’s favouring her front leg, and I don’t want her hurtin’ herself further while I’m gone,” Brody grunts, and I put the pieces together that they must be talking about an animal. His horse, maybe.
Johnny stares straight across the table at him, as serious as ever. “I’ll take care of your girl, Brody. Don’t worry about it.”
Brody looks back at him with equal seriousness before nodding slowly. “Thank you.”
“Aurora, as your friend, I think it would be in incredibly poor taste for me not to tell you that I don’t think you should be living in your rental,” Poppy says, focused on me now.
I push my empty beer bottle away from me and grab a napkin before tearing it up to keep my hands busy. “It’s really not as bad as you all think it is.”
“It might actually be worse.” Anna grimaces.
Poppy points at her best friend in approval. “Exactly right. I hope you at least have a few crosses hung on the walls. Maybe I should bring you some sage to light. Just in case you’re not really alone. I heard someone say once that they saw a creepy woman standing in the upstairs window.”
“It’s not haunted,” Garrison tells her.
She leans out of his arms and stares at him deadpan. “And you know that how? Have you gone inside and asked if anyone’s there?”
“Fuck no.”
“Well, then you don’t know that it isn’t.” Her brown eyes find mine again. “Have you noticed anything? Any banging at night or woken up with bruises?”
I shake my head, stifling a laugh. “No. It’s not haunted. Ghosts aren’t real.”
Bryce gasps, setting her glass down on the table hard enough for me to feel it on the other side. “Ghosts are real. And just because you said that, they’re going to haunt your ass.”
“Don’t start with your ghost hunter shit again, Bryce,” Darren groans.
She pins him beneath a sharp glare. “I’m genuinely shocked no ghost has thrown a plate at your head yet. You certainly deserve it from time to time.”
“Okay. So, Bryce is into ghosts,” I mutter, desperate for everyone to drop the topic. “There aren’t any in my house. We can move on now.”
“She’s dressed up as a Ghostbuster for the past five Halloweens in a row,” Poppy says.
I blink. “Oh.”
Poppy grows more alert, jerking into a proper sitting position. Garrison grips her tight around her middle as if he’s worried she’ll slide from his lap.
“That reminds me. We should start planning our costumes for this year. I’m thinking we can have the party at our house. Maybe invite some of the new girls from my Calgary Beautifully Bold location over too,” she suggests excitedly.
“A Halloween party?” I ask, discomfort slithering up my spine.
Parties have never been my thing. I’ve avoided them like the plague my entire life, and I don’t plan on changing that at thirty years old. Plus, isn’t it a little early to be planning for Halloween? It’s only August.