The Complete Bad Boy Series (5 in 1): Best Billionaire Romance Collection (Bad Boy Billionaire Stepbrother Romance Paranormal Series) (9 page)

She heard the familiar raps on the door the following night and they snuck out onto the streets of the town, Ian taking her hand, cold to the touch, wanting to show her where she lived now and she loved the excitement of the exploration. He took her first to the park down the road and they sat on the swings, rocking back and forth in unison.

“Do you go to the school down the road?” Laura asked, curious. He shook his head.

“Nah. My mom home schools me.”

“Really? Mine too,” she said, shocked by the similarities their lives had. She felt a connection to him, a strong bond between them as if they had been friends for years. 

“I figured, since I haven’t seen you leave the house yet.”  They continued swinging and Ian told Laura about his intense love for literature, how he preferred night time over day time, and how his dad had left them when he was a child. She listened intently, the same way he had listened to her the night before, his voice filling the night and the air.

As they left the park, Laura took Ian’s hand and he allowed her to without hesitation, looked in her eyes as she had done so, his eyes vibrating with hers so intensely that she had to look away. He had a certain force to him, a strength that sucked her in the same way the scent of skin sucks in moths in the summertime. They jumped over rocks and balanced on curbsides, Laura laughing a genuine laughter that she hadn’t heard emanate from her body for a long time. Finally, they found themselves outside the library, Ian shining his flashlight to show her the vast greatness that lay before them.

It stood before Laura like an old prideful man, stout and firm in its roots and Laura ran up the stairs, placing a hand on its old bricks.

“This building is stunning,” she whispered and he had come next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, Laura feeling the electricity between the two of them vibrate throughout her body.

“It’s one of my favorite places to be,” Ian concurred. Laura felt a cold gust of wind shake her to the core and bones and she shivered. Ian reached up to her and rubbed her shoulders to warm her.

“Well, come on,” he said as he motioned for her to follow him.

“Now?” she asked and he nodded, leading her to a lower back window in the library that was left open a crack. Ian slipped his tall body in through the window, a long arm reaching out for hers afterwards. She grabbed it and he help to scoot her inside the building as well, shining his flashlight against the walls.

“We have to go to the first floor if you want to get some ghost research done tonight,” he said and she followed him, allowing him to guide her. Every so often she would catch a glimpse of his stark blond hair in her flashlight, like the light surrounding an angel, and she walked behind him, allowing him to guide her as an angel would.

They made their way to the reference center, Laura sliding into a chair and accessing a computer, Ian sitting next to her. He pulled out a book from the backpack that sat on his back and two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

“Wow, you really plan ahead,” Laura said and he smiled, his smile sparkling in the dark room. She grabbed a sandwich and munched on it while she absorbed and searched for all the information on the small town she had just moved into, her palms sweating and her heart pounding, in great anticipation for what she might find.

“Don’t you want to get info too?” Laura asked, her eyes refusing to move from the computer screen.

“Nah, I think I know this town pretty well. I’ve been here forever,” she heard his raspy and husky voice admit.

“Well, then why don’t you tell me about it?”

“Because this is what you like to do,” he pointed out and she heard him turn a page of his book. She couldn’t argue with that, and so she clicked on article after article, printing numerous pages and artifacts, excited to go home and read it later.

After a few hours, Laura glanced at the clock and said she needed to head home, thanking Ian immensely for having taken the time to sneak her into a place that was so important to her, admiring him for having taken a chance and understanding what her hobby and interests.

“I know how hard it can be to find someone who ‘gets’ you,” he admitted, and then continued on, “but I think we get one another. I feel something here between the two of us. Something that’s undeniable,” he finished, suddenly seeming shy in her presence for having voiced their truth. She felt acknowledgment and justification in what she had felt was present between the two of them too. She smiled broadly.

“I agree. I’m really glad you came knocking on my door. Now, don’t forget to come knocking again tomorrow,” she said, turning on her heel and leading herself back into her house.

And so Ian came to her every night for the next few weeks, Laura divulging to him every night an article that she had read that day. She had to hide her articles in her room under her bed; she had accumulated a large binder of information about her town, gathering information that ranged from hundreds of years ago to those that were only just a few years old. Her favorite articles were those accompanied with pictures. She had pictures of the old high school (the new one having been built atop on the dust and ashes of the old one) , the downtown area, old homes and speak easies, horses and carriages ranging to cars and homes of the early 1990s. She looked at old homes, read about old mayors and murders that occurred over sex, drugs and broken hearts.

“Have you ever heard about the old tale of Mary in downtown square’s grocery store?” Laura asked one night, each night having a new tale to spin to Ethan like a long ball of yarn.

“Oh yeah, old Mary. They say if you stand in the middle of the grocery store and say her name while spinning around, you can see her face for a few moments.”

“Have you ever tried it?” she pondered, eyes lighting up. He shook his head.

“Nah.” She shoved the articles about it into his lap and he looked uncomfortable, unsure and uneasy. It was an expression Laura had never seen on him; she had always seen his confidence shine out of him like rays of hot sunshine, a glow and warmth she wanted to surrounded herself in, blanket herself in, daily.

“I’m sorry. Do you not like my talking about this stuff?” she asked, pulling the articles back quickly. He shook his head.

“It’s not that…it’s just…let’s just talk about something else tonight,” he said, glancing up at her. She nodded.

“Sure. Of course. Where are we headed?” she asked. Every night, Ian had a new adventure planned for them around town. Some nights they snuck back into the library, sometimes they sat under the fountain in the town square, sometimes they would sit in the middle of the road eating ice cream, quite confident no cars would come driving down the road of their sleepy town.

Laura spent her days thinking of Ian, his piercing cold eyes that were offset by the most genuine smile, his height that towered over her, his dark and husky voice. Her mother would glance at her often during lessons, saying her name harshly, and it would snap Laura back to reality forgetting about Ian for a moment.

She focused on her studies, exuberant in her photography and creative writing, and she noticed her parents’ attitude towards her had changed and she felt confident and content with this. She felt a twinge of guilt at times, knowing that if they were aware that she snuck Ian into their basement nightly, they would be furious, disappointed, and, her father probably, disgusted. She had suggested Ian come meet her parents and say hello to them during the day, hoping that this might erase some of her guilt, but he had yet to do so. Laura also had yet to meet any of the other kids on her block, only of which there were a few. Before meeting Ian, she would watch them from her bedroom window, too shy to run out after them and introduce herself, often aware of the starts she might get in her long black attire and deep, darkening makeup. However, now that Ian had showed up in her life, she never thought about them anymore; she didn’t think of much besides him, actually.

Ian spent most of his passing time thinking of Laura as well, the way her eyes would watch him intensely, like an animal after its prey, her blue eyes piercing him to the core. She had a way about her, an originality that he wanted to eat up like the bowls of ice cream they shared, cold and soothing to his throat. Her pale skin sat innocently over her long, frail body, her nose speckled with small freckles that he had only noticed when sitting only a few inches from her face, lingering on her face like a soft whisper. She had the face that was so pure it made him want to tell her everything about him, and her lips were so full and ripe he wanted to lose himself in their deliciousness. He found himself finding ways to brush against her, feeling the energy between them pass like a strong magnet or a flicker of lightening, him losing him breath for a moment when it happened. He realized that she felt it too, as she would look up quickly, her eyes wide, and smile.

“Let’s go into the fields,” he said and she had agreed, grabbing a large quilt from the boxes where they kept their storage. She grabbed their two flashlights that they used every night and took his head, him guiding her a mile or two downtown and then into the vast array of the fields. They lay under the stars, him taking her hand, her head nestled in the crook of his arm.

“I feel so safe with you,” she said bluntly and he felt his heart quicken; Laura heard it too, the beating in his chest, which made hers quicken as well. With that, he turned to her, taking her sweet and gentle face into his hands and moving his lips to her slowly. She returned the kiss, moving her tongue into his mouth, circling its way around.

He undressed her slowly under the moonlight and he watched her sweet face smile under the light of the moon, her hands reaching up and undressing him. They lay naked together under the stars, their bodies pure and clean while in each other’s arms, lying beside nature.

He caressed her body smoothly and slowly from her beautiful head down to her delicate toes, his full lips kissing her softly. Her long blond locks lay under her, and he ran his fingers through them as he held a breast in his other hand, their kisses the only sound in the darkness of the night.

“I love you, Laura,” he heard himself mumble as he entered her gradually and slowly, gauging her face as to not hurt her. He realized as he spoke these words that he meant them, having never met a young woman quite like herself, feeling as if he had known her for eternity.

He knew in that moment what she was; knew she was one just like him, that their bond was inevitable and pulling like a strong chain. As he rocked above her, she kissed him softly on the shoulder, mumbling into his ear that she loved him too, and they welcome dawn together as one body, fireflies buzzing and lighting the way above them.

Laura sat in her room the next morning, blissful and happy, imagining and remembering the night she had previously had with Ian, her stomach turning into excited knots just thinking about his touch and kiss.

She felt suddenly as if the binder she kept hidden underneath her bed was calling to her, and after the showered, grateful that it was a Saturday, she sat on her bed, looking over the articles she had yet to read. She decided on the old house, the house they had left, feeling emotionally ready and strong enough to read now about where she had come from and what had happened in her old home. On the front were pictures of her old home, its tall brick demeanor, seemingly modern style, front white picket fence. As she looked closer at the picture, she saw the small garden her mother kept it the front of the house, and found this odd, but then figuring the picture must have been taken years after the murder, when she and her family still lived there. She shrugged and also noted that the article had been written while they had still lived in the house, and felt an urge to read on.

On 555 Brayshaw Avenue in New York, New York, Beatrice and Bernard O’Hara lived a comfortable and stable life with their young, beautiful daughter.

Laura paused, felt her heart stop in her throat, as if she were choking on it. She continued on quickly, her eyes running and tumbling over the words on the page quickly and deliberately.

Laura was a happy child, and her mother described her love of the outdoors and helping her mother and father in their garden. She had many friends and went to the elementary school down the road, loved by all and known by most in the town.

This all changed for the O’Hara’s on a devastating Friday night, November 3
rd
, when Laura snuck out into the street and was hit, tragically, by a drunk driver. Chris Hayes, age 33, has been charged and will face prosecution. His son, in the back of the car, was killed as well. Hayes’ wife was unavailable for comment.

“I would give my life to bring hers back,” Beatrice was quoted as saying. Her father refused to speak to us, his wife stating that he had not left their bedroom for a week.

Laura O’Hara’s memorial service will be held this Sunday at Princetown Church in New York.

Laura sat on her bed, stunned, her hands shaking vibrantly, at a loss of breath.

“MOM!” she screamed bloodily, and within moments her mother had flung open her bedroom door.

“What? What is it?” she asked and Laura had only to hold up the entire article, and she watched as her mother’s face dropped, becoming as pale as her own.

“BERNARD!” she yelled just as desperate and frantically. Her father came in shortly, toothbrush still in his mouth, hair disheveled and a mess.

“She found it,” her mother’s voice was barely a whisper. Suddenly, the toothbrush dropped to the floor, stunned and shocked.

“Oh Good God,” she heard her father breath. Laura stood up, pacing in her room.

“What is this? Someone explain this to me
now
,” Laura insisted, searching for words and meaning. Her mother took her hand and together the three of them sat on her bed.

“Sweetheart, do you remember that night? Do you remember that crash?” her mother asked, her identical blue eyes wide. Laura felt tears welling in her eyes, and she nodded.

“Yes, yes I do. I remember the big lights coming right at me and being so scared, but then I remember a peace and calm…and then a few days later, you holding me in my room, whispering and crying over me.” She looked at her parents, and they nodded.

“Laura, you’re dead. You died on November 3
rd
…14 years ago,” her father said, taking her hand. His words sat and resonated with her deeply, dark and harsh. She shook her head.

“No, no, no, no, no…I don’t understand…”she said continually but then it all
did
make sense to her, as it rolled and rumbled around in her mind: never being allowed to leave the house, her pale skin, her call to her black attire, her interest and pull to the dead. It all made sense, and in a twisted way, this brought her calamity during a time of disaster.

“The important thing, sweetheart, is that you’re here with us now,” her mother said, taking her hand. Laura suddenly felt the need to fold herself and her body within her mother’s to sob and ask all the questions that came to her mind.

Her father took her hand and kissed it. He suggested they go downstairs, drink coffee, and talk. Laura, unsteady and gaunt, felt herself nod her head, and so their day went on, as seamlessly as it seemed her life had.