I started crying again. I couldn’t help it. And it wasn’t silent graceful tears falling. It was all-out-couldn’t-catch-your-breath crying.
Emma took a sip of her martini and stumbled over to us. The closer she came, the louder I sobbed.
Peter stepped away. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ramsey, but not now.” He turned his back on my drunken mother and carried me upstairs to my bedroom like Rhett carrying Scarlett.
Thankfully, Emma didn’t follow us.
Peter placed me on my bed and pulled off my shoes. He rummaged through my dresser and handed me a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a Hawthorne Prep T-shirt. “Put these on.” He went in the hallway so I could change in private.
Once I had my pajamas on, Peter went into my bathroom and brought back a glass of water and a wet washcloth. He wiped my tear and makeup stained face and made me drink a couple sips of water. He locked my bedroom door and checked to make sure the balcony was locked and the wooden stick was securely in its slot.
“Here, lie down.” Peter pulled the comforter over me. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll leave the door open a crack, so I can hear if you need anything. I’ll be right back.”
He was in and out in five minutes, just as he promised. He put on an old pair of basketball shorts from his designated drawer and a ribbed tank top. I was so upset I couldn’t even admire the view when he pulled the shirt on over his bare chest.
Peter flipped off the light switch and slid under the covers. He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me to him. “Don’t think about today. We’ll figure it all out in the morning.”
* * *
“How do you feel?” Peter called out from inside of my closet.
“Better than yesterday.”
“That’s a start.” He rummaged through my closet. Shoes and bags were scattered on the floor. After a few minutes, he emerged holding my snow boots.
“What are those for?”
“We’re going for a walk,” Peter said.
“Outside?” It was twenty degrees out.
“Yeah, silly, outside—where else? Didn’t you want to talk?”
“Yes.”
Peter raised his eyebrows. “You don’t really want to talk about everything in here, do you?”
“Good idea.”
The snow crunched beneath our feet. It was frigid outside, but at least it wasn’t snowing. I held Peter’s hand tight, hoping my mitten kept his naked hand warm. I had no idea where we were going, but we were soon outside the gated entrance of the Hallows.
“So what happened?” Peter asked.
My furry hood blocked my peripheral vision. I had to turn my neck all the way to the side to see his face. No sense in beating around the bush. “Victor isn’t my father.”
“What?”
“Grandma Claudia told me that he wasn’t my biological father.”
Peter whistled. “Wow. That is big news.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I knew that dirt bag couldn’t have been related to you,” Peter said with a satisfied grin. “If Victor isn’t your father, did she tell you who is?”
“Ethan Longfellow.”
Peter stopped walking. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
Peter blinked. He didn’t say anything for a few moments. I think it was a lot for him to digest.
We crossed the street and walked over to our elementary school. The single-story building was closed, of course, but we veered off the sidewalk to the empty playground in the back. It was a typical playground—jungle gym, swing set, seesaw and a slide, but we went straight for the merry-go-round.
Peter brushed off the snow and we sat on the rusty iron.
“I’m sorry Ethan died before you had the chance to meet him.” Peter’s cheeks and the tip of his nose were rosy from the cold. “Did Grandma Claudia tell you how he died?”
“He was murdered.”
Peter’s eyes widened. “Wow. You did have a lot of news. How? By who?”
“I don’t know. Ethan went missing and then, I guess, they found his body. I’m not sure. We didn’t get into the details. But Grandma Claudia said they never solved the case.” I pulled my hood back to see better. “And—”
“There’s more?” Peter asked.
“That’s exactly what I said! Get this, Grandma Claudia thinks that I’m a witch and the Ross family descends from a long line of witches. We survived the witch hunts of the 1600s by the way.” I heard the sarcasm in my voice. The more I said it, the more ridiculous it sounded.
“She actually said that?”
“She did. And that I’ll be able to move things with my mind. Oh and I’ll be fully developed when I turn eighteen. I’m going to be stronger than your average run-of-the-mill witch because Ethan’s family has witch blood, too. I have the lineage from both sides, so supposedly I’ll be some sort of super witch. Or something like that.”
“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”
I scooted closer to Peter. “She says that’s the reason I’m having nightmares.”
“You did dream about your dead father’s grave,” Peter said. “That’s pretty significant. You knew exactly where it was in the cemetery—all based on your nightmare.”
“I don’t really have an explanation for that one. Do you think…?” I stopped.
“What?”
“Do you think the man chasing me in my nightmare was Ethan? His ghost or something?” I shivered thinking about the faceless man. His unnatural stride. Those long fingers choking the life out of me.
“The man from your nightmare attacked you, right?”
I nodded.
Peter shook his head. “Then, no, it wasn’t Ethan. It was probably some figment of your imagination fused with the nightmare. I’m sure Ethan Longfellow was an amazing, kind man.”
I hoped Peter was right, because whoever or whatever chased me in the Hazel Cove Cemetery was pure evil.
“Besides,” Peter said, “you were unlucky enough to have Victor for the past seventeen years. You’re only allowed one terrible father in your lifetime.”
Peter pulled me so close that my knees were practically on his lap. Sitting face-to-face, I could see the thoughts forming in his mind. He looked like he wanted to say something.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I said. “It can’t be crazier than what I heard yesterday.”
“The street lamps on the docks last night. I’ve never seen anything like that. One right after another and it wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate,” Peter said.
“Go on.”
“Do you think it’s possible you could’ve done that?”
I hesitated. “Maybe.”
“What do you remember before they exploded?”
“Shaved Head struck me and he was about to do it again. I wasn’t thinking about anything specific. I was furious. Then the lamps shattered. It could’ve been an electrical shortage or something.”
“Maybe, but it was strange how they exploded one by one. It wasn’t like any electrical shortage I’ve ever seen. It was a good distraction. I wouldn’t have been able to sneak up on them if they hadn’t been so mesmerized by the shattering.”
I bit my lip. “Do you remember when I told you about the mirror in the haunted house?”
“Yeah?”
“When I walked into the mirror, I bumped my head and fell down. It was the last straw. I was mad at being lost in that stupid mirror maze. I just looked at the mirror and then it cracked,” I admitted. Were we really having this conversation?
“The lights in the foyer?”
“What?”
Peter squeezed my mittened hand. “When Victor was dragging you upstairs the night of the party? Remember how upset you were? The lights flickered off right in the middle of your struggle.”
“I forgot about that,” I said. “Do… do you think it’s possible I did all that?”
Peter grinned. “You’re like the Incredible Hulk. You get angry, but ins
tead of turning big and green, you break stuff.”
I playfully shoved him. “Seriously, do you think I did those things?”
“Ask me that question a few weeks ago and I would’ve said no way. But now, I don’t know. It seems like too many incidents to be considered a coincidence.”
“You think I’m a witch?”
“No, of course not, but maybe you have some type of mental gift.”
“Mental gift, meaning, I should be locked up at the Hazel Cove Mental Hospital?”
Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about telekinesis. Isn’t that the word? The ability to move objects with your mind. Like that Stephen King movie Carrie. Maybe you can do that. A heightened emotion, like anger, could be triggering it.”
“Or maybe we watch too many horror movies,” I said.
Peter cupped my face in his hands. “Or maybe you really are a witch.”
“Ha ha. I don’t want to talk about any of this crazy stuff anymore.” I hated thinking about it. I’d stashed the journal that Grandma Claudia had given me under the mattress. I didn’t want to see it. I didn’t want anything to do with any of it.
“No? What do you want to talk about?”
“Us.”
“I like that topic,” Peter said.
“Thank you for saving me last night.”
“I’d save you anytime.” Peter pulled my scarf down and examined my neck. Bruises covered my throat, but I knew there wasn’t a bruise on my cheek where Shaved Head had struck me.
“I felt like I was on the verge of a meltdown yesterday. Grandma Claudia’s crazy stories, getting attacked by those men and then the whole Emma and James situation.”
Peter made a face. “Speaking of Emma, are you going to talk to her about Ethan?”
“I want to, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea. The more I think about it, the more I feel like she didn’t want me to find out about Ethan. Maybe it’s too painful for her. Not to mention that having an actual sober conversation with Emma is a feat in itself.”
“I don’t know what I would do either,” Peter said. “Does this mean you’re not a Ramsey? Are you a Longfellow now?”
“I have no idea. Maybe Victor adopted me? I guess I’m either a Ramsey or a Longfellow or maybe even a Ross, though that would be weird, seeing that Ross is my middle name.”
“Why are you still talking to that James kid?”
I smiled. “Are you jealous?”
“No. I just don’t like him.”
“He’s annoying sometimes. Trust me, I know. But he’s my friend. He’s harmless.”
Peter didn’t say anything, because I was crawling into his lap. I snuggled in under his chin. He wrapped his arms around me. It was much warmer on his lap than on the cold merry-go-round.
Peter’s cheeks flushed from the cold. I brushed my lips across his and then slowly kissed him. “I love you, Peter.”
Wrinkles appeared in the corner of his eyes as he smiled. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to hear you say that. I love you, too.”
Chapter Nineteen
I put all notions of witches, nightmares, killers, magic and mind powers out of my head. Peter and I agreed to keep the issue of my real father—Ethan over Victor—a secret until we figured out our next move.
It was my first week back at school since Bradley’s death. I knew the stares and whispers would be relentless, but I didn’t have a choice. I had to go to school. Lucas and Logan picked me up in the morning. At least I wasn’t late and I didn’t have to walk into Hawthorne Prep alone.
I did have a few positive things to look forward to. My car would be out of the repair shop on Tuesday. I was due to get the brace off my wrist on Thursday morning. Friday night was the annual fund-raiser at our country club in the Hallows. Dr. Cooper hosted the cocktail party to raise money for the Hazel Cove Hospital. And Saturday was my first official date with Peter. We would finally get a chance to go out and have a good time together, just like a normal couple.
I had to keep reminding myself of all these good things because school was hell. Everyone stared at me, whispered around me or asked inappropriate questions.
I’d successfully dodged James throughout the day. I scooted out of American Lit right as the bell rang. I even convinced Sadie to eat lunch with me outside in the cold, so I wouldn’t have to go into the cafeteria. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see him. I just didn’t want to relive Saturday night and I knew that would be the first thing James brought up.
Of course, he cornered me at my locker after the final bell.
“You’re avoiding me,” James said.
“No, I’m not.”
James’s blazer was off. His tie was loosened and his hair was disheveled (at least for James). He looked a little… irritated. “Is Peter not allowing you to talk to me?”
“Peter doesn’t give me orders.”
“Sure he doesn’t,” James said sarcastically. “Are you guys together now?”
“Yes. We are.” I tossed my biology book into my bag. I didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
James’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “That’s pretty convenient. I mean, you’ve known Peter your whole life. Then I show up and all of a sudden he wants to date you.”
I flinched.
James shook his head. “I didn’t mean that, Alex. I’m sorry.”
“Do you want something?” I slammed my locker shut.
“I want to talk to you. I know I’m making you angry right now, I can tell. But I really don’t want to upset you.”
“Well, you’re doing a horrible job.”
“I’m sorry for what I said about Peter. I just wanted to see how you were doing. You know, with everything that’s happened. The party? Your driver?”
“His name was Bradley. And I’m fine.”
“What happened Saturday night?” James stepped closer. “Why were you upset? Why was Peter carrying you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I knew James meant well (at least I thought he did), but he was annoying me. And invading my personal space.
“Why?”
“Because it’s none of your business, that’s why. I have to go. Bye James.”
I turned to leave, but he grabbed my arm. Not hard. It was more of an act of desperation than anything else.
“Wait,” James said.
“I don’t want to talk anymore.”
“Would you just give me five minutes?”
A few people were staring at us.
“Let go of my arm,” I said.
James released his grip. Then he swung around and punched my locker. The sound of his fist smashing metal vibrated down the hallway.
I walked away. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning around. I knew he was angry, but he was going about it in the wrong way. We were never going to be more than friends.
And we weren’t even going to be friends if he kept acting that way.
* * *
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.
Peter was wearing shoulder pads, a jersey and all kinds of other gear that I didn’t know the name of, everything except his helmet and skates. We were in the hallway outside the Hazel Cove High ice rink. The Cooper twins had dropped me off after school. Peter was letting me borrow his truck to run errands while he was at hockey practice.
Peter sat his oversized gloves on the ground. “Tell me. I have a few minutes until I have to be on the ice.”
“It’s nothing, really. School was bad. Everyone watched my every move and said stuff behind my back.”
“It’ll pass. Everything is still fresh in their minds. But that can’t be the reason you’re upset.” Peter looked up at the rafters and then whispered in my ear. “Don’t get too angry. There are lights in the ceiling above us.”
“Very funny. It was just a bad day at school and….” I stopped myself.
“What?”
“I had a run-in with James.”
/> Peter’s face morphed into stone. “What did he do?”
Telling Peter about what happened at my locker was a bad idea. He didn’t need more fuel for his James-hating fire. But I was upset and I wanted to get it off my chest. I decided to give Peter the edited version—there was no way I was going to mention James grabbing my arm or punching the locker. Peter would kill him.
“He was being a jerk. He got irritated when I told him we were together and he said some mean things.”
“What did he say?”
I shifted my weight from my right foot to my left foot. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. “He was trying to make me angry.”
Peter raised his eyebrows.
“James said you were only interested in me because he was. He said we had our whole lives to be together, but then he shows up and you suddenly decide to take an interest in me.”
“That son of a—”
“Don’t,” I said. “It’s stupid. He’s trying to cause trouble. I was already in a bad mood and his comments were icing on the cake. I shouldn’t have said anything to you.”
Peter placed his hands on my shoulders. “Alexandria Ross Ramsey, I swear to you, that’s not the case. I’ve been in love with you since we were three and I let you play with my Legos.”
I tried to interrupt, but he placed a finger over my lips.
“I’ve never felt good enough for you—I still don’t think I’m good enough—but that’s why I waited so long to make a move. Maybe James is a little right about the part when he showed up, because he made me crazy enough to throw all my reservations of not being good enough to the curb. So I went for it. And it was the best thing I’ve ever done. Please don’t think we are the result of James. We’re not. I’ve loved you before he was even potty trained.”
“I know, I know. I love you, too. I shouldn’t have let him get to me.” I felt stupid for bringing it up. I didn’t need Peter to reassure me of his feelings.
“We’re okay?”
“Of course we’re okay,” I said.
Peter dangled the keys in the air. “Unless, of course, you wreck my truck.”
“You’re full of jokes today. Don’t worry, I’ll drive slowly. And I get my car back tomorrow morning.”