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“No,” I say succinctly.
“No?”
I shake my head. “Nope. No secret lovers here.”
What in the hell is wrong with him tonight?
“Oh.”
I cock my head. “You do remember what it was like for me in high school, right?”
“Well, yeah, but?—”
“There are no buts. It was?—”
He snorts, and quickly tries to cover it with a cough.
My eyes bug.
“Sorry.”
“Real mature,” I say flatly.
He snickers.
What the actual fuck is happening right now?
Shaking my head, I adjust the messenger bag on my shoulder, and flip on the lamp on the table by the stairs just as the door clicks shut.
Blinking a couple times to allow my eyes to adjust, I can’t help but take in how…well, empty it feels. Everything’s the same, right down to the framed photos hanging on the walls, and the grandfather clock in the corner.
It’s only been a few weeks since my parents were last here, so it’s clean. A little dusty probably, but could be worse. So much worse. It could be empty.
It could be filled with a new family, making new memories, snuffing out everything that came before.
Not for the first time, I’m grateful Mom and Dad decided to postpone selling it.
They had a couple bites. Paperwork was even drawn up for the last one, the bank approving it and everything…
And then, at the last second, Mom changed her mind.
She wasn’t ready.
None of us were, I think, despite how much it pains us to be in here. If Izzy really is dead… Well, she didn’t die in this house, but her ghost haunts it all the same.
“You okay?”
“Huh?” I say absently.
Twisting my head, I find Mason watching me warily. His gaze flits around me, like he can’t help himself. But it’s as if he too can’t really stomach the sight of it all—the familiarity; like we’re in some kind of time capsule—because he keeps finding his way back to me, the only thing different here.
“It’s weird, right?” I say.
He nods.
Blowing out a breath, I say, “Yeah, I was driving around, okay? I just…it got overwhelming.” Not a total lie. “I should’ve…” I wave a hand. “Texted you or something. Let you know I left.”
More nodding.
