I woke with the dull drumming headache of a restless sleep. The radio played below me in the kitchen. Mom never went to bed until I left for school, though she got home from work an hour before my alarm went off most mornings. Chester was gone, likely standing sentinel at the counter while she prepared breakfast. I helped around the house since she’d gone back to work, but meals were her thing, the one task she wouldn’t give up. A nurse through and through, she claimed nutrition was the best gift she could ever give me and so long as I lived with her, nutrition was exactly what I’d get.
I stretched my arms and legs thoroughly before shoving the soft down comforter away and inching out of my toasty warm bed. A chill covered my skin in goose bumps as I rolled my head against each shoulder and shuffled to the bathroom for a shower, tooth and hair brushing plus obligatory makeup when what I wanted was more sleep.
I showered with the speed of a garden slug, hoping the hot water would rejuvenate my mind and muscles. It didn’t. I wrung water from my hair and wrapped one towel around my head before securing another around my body. A white cloud of steam coated the bathroom mirror. I rubbed a clear spot through the fog with the side of one fist and sighed. My eyelids hung at half-mast, begging for sleep until I remembered why my night was so restless. Adrenaline replaced fatigue with a burst. The woman’s scream had seemed so real, almost familiar, but I wasn’t sure. Chester hadn’t seemed worried about it and I’d never heard another sound. Which reminded me… The mysterious and possibly evil neighbor kids might be at school today. Allison hoped they were registered at the community college, but we had no idea how old they were.
Suddenly the hair dryer couldn’t work fast enough. I wrestled my old brush through the length of my dark brown hair, smoothing the places where random waves popped up. My hair was sixty percent straight, forty percent rodeo clown. Mom’s Greek and Italian ancestry left her hair an unruly perfection, which managed to look sexy and windblown on her. I had no idea where my crazy hair came from, but it required patience. I carefully coerced the few wild waves into submission with the help of a flat iron. I tapped my foot, more anxious for school each minute. What if the Hale boys were my new classmates? What if they were dangerous?
Mom called up the staircase as I opened the bathroom door. “Callie.”
“Yeah?” I leaned my head into the hallway, lip gloss in hand.
Before she answered, footfalls hammered against the steps. A moment later, Allison bobbed around the corner. Her hair looked amazing. She’d rolled and tied a silk scarf around her head like a headband, hiding the bow under the length of her hair. The ends of the scarf lay over her shoulders, coordinating seamlessly with her jade green blouse, jeans, and fringed bag.
She spun outside the bathroom door for my inspection. “Hobo chic, what do you think?”
“Nice.” I looked at my long sleeve T-shirt and frowned.
Allison went into my room.
I batted my lashes through a mascara brush and dotted the excess away with my fingertips. “I’m almost finished. Give me thirty seconds.”
“Take your time.”
Uh oh. I stuffed my makeup bag back into its drawer and darted across the hall to my room.
Allison knelt on my bed, peering through the curtains. A white sweater lay across the comforter behind her. I’d bought the sweater when we went back to school shopping, but I hadn’t gotten up the nerve to wear it yet. The v-neck was deep and the material clung to my curves more than I liked.
“Well, this explains it.” I crawled over the bed to kneel beside her. “You never pick me up for school because you’re perpetually late, but here you are.”
She smiled, never taking her eyes off the house across the field.
“I finally see what it takes to get a ride from my best friend.” I smiled.
“Hot. Brothers.” She gave me a cursory glance. “Put on the sweater. Let’s go stand around the office. They have to go there to get schedules.”
“I thought you wanted them to attend Wells.”
I scooted off the bed and searched my closet for a decent camisole. The sweater’s neckline was scandalous without one. The form-fitting design was a whole other problem, but I could only handle one crisis at a time before breakfast. Nothing good in my closet, I moved on to my dresser hoping for something long enough to reach the waist of my low-slung jeans, preferably with lace at the neckline and in a color that wouldn’t show through the white sweater. Five minutes later, I settled on a pale pink camisole with lace, not as long as I’d hoped, but Allison was waiting. I’d dumped two drawers to find the camisole. The mess added nicely to my whole disaster zone motif.
Allison left her post at the window and paced in front of me.
I fidgeted with the sweater. “Geez. What’s your hurry? The school’s the size of a thimble. So is the town, for that matter. It’s not like you won’t meet them both by the end of the day.”
She looked at her watch dramatically. “If they are in high school, you’ll meet them for sure, but I leave in three hours, remember? I never thought I’d be sad to miss an afternoon of high school.”
I pulled the sweater over the camisole and tugged the clingy material. “For all we know, they’re both students at the college, not the high school.”
“Come on.” Allison jogged down the steps, while I took one last look in the mirror.
The sweater was amazing, but it wouldn’t go unnoticed, and since the Fourth of July field party by the river, “unnoticed” was my friend. I finger combed the ends of my hair, making sure they were fully dry and wouldn’t coil up on me midmorning.
I pocketed my phone and hoisted my bag over my head, securing it cross-body. The creeping suspicion something was wrong tugged at my chest. I turned in a circle, looking for the reason. Allison had left my curtain askew, caught on the corner of my bed.
“Callie? You coming, sweetie?” Mom called.
I grabbed the curtain. “One minute.” My voice caught in my throat as I spoke. A man in a black suit sipped from a mug on the Hale’s front porch. He stared at my window until I thought certain he saw straight into my soul. A shiver slid down my spine and I dropped the curtain between us.
Stupid rumors. Stupid gossip. He’d probably seen Allison stalking him through my window and thought it was me. Maybe he couldn’t see me as well as I saw him. Maybe he was only looking at my house and didn’t see me the way I imagined he had.
“Callie!” Allison sounded frantic.
I bolted down the steps.
Mom met me in the foyer at the bottom of the steps with a bottle of water and an apple. “Nice of her to give you a ride. Too bad she’s in such a rush. You didn’t eat breakfast. I have yogurt cups in the refrigerator. I can make a smoothie to go.”
“I’m okay. Thanks for the apple.” I stuffed the fruit and water into my bag and hugged Mom. “You know Allison, unpredictable, impatient…”
The honk of her horn cut off my words.
“And waiting in the car.” Mom patted my cheek and walked me outside.
My gaze swept over the field to Hale Manor and its empty front porch.
Honk!
I gave Mom a wave and mustered my best happy face before sliding into the passenger seat beside Allison. She shifted into gear and drove away as I buckled up.
“They left like ten minutes ago. What took you so long? How can we coincidentally park beside them if we don’t get there when they do?”
She couldn’t have beaten me to her car by more than three minutes, but I ignored her exaggeration. To Allison, it probably felt like ten.
She gunned the engine, cutting down two side streets and through the Methodist Church parking lot before bottoming out on South Main and two-wheeling around the corner into the gravel pit beside our school. I held tight to the little handle in the ceiling and laughed, despite myself. Gravel spun out behind us as she motored through the lot and parked one row back from a shiny black Mercedes.
I wasn’t surprised by the crowd of guys circling the car and taking selfies with it. Of the nearly forty cars in the parking lot, at least thirty were pickup trucks. Allison’s hatchback was the nicest of the cars. Except this sleek, black machine. I walked past slowly. I didn’t know much about cars, but this was no pickup truck. I let out an appreciative whistle.
“Can you believe their car?” Allison practically skipped beside me. “Do you think it’s really their dad’s but he lets them drive it?”
“I don’t know.” My mind wandered to the man on the porch.
“Did you see them? I only got a glimpse.”
I shouldered my way through the crowded doorways as the first bell rang, allowing us inside. “I think I saw their dad on the porch.”
“No. I didn’t see anyone on the porch.” Allison lifted onto her toes, trying to see above the crowd.
Justin Maze lumbered into view. The crowd parted for him as always. “What are you doing here before the tardy bell?”
“Came to see you.” Allison blew Justin an air kiss and continued tiptoeing toward our lockers.
“She picked me up,” I tattled.
Justin ducked his head and rubbed his chin. “I don’t understand.”
“I got new neighbors, or haven’t you heard?” I slid my gaze toward Justin briefly, keeping a watch on where we were going. The last thing I wanted to do was trip on a freshman.
We followed Allison around the corner, past the glass office walls. No new guys. A few paces later, we were in the hall with an endless row of lockers. I broke off and headed for mine. She had one foot in college. She could be late and screw off more than the rest of us. I spun the lock and popped my locker door open, sorting through the books inside and swapping for a few in my bag, getting set up for classes until lunch.
“Have you seen them?” Justin leaned against the locker beside mine, fingertips stuffed into the pockets of his cowboy jeans. His boots were caked with mud from a morning with the horses and the buckle he’d earned this summer shined between his hips. His crisp white T-shirt was perfectly opposite everything else he wore and he looked amazing. Justin was all suntan and muscles. Both qualities were hard earned from hours of labor-intensive work in the sun and a lifelong rodeo obsession.
I realized a few beats too late my observation of his ensemble ended with a look at the perfect bow of his lips and never quite made it to the cool blue of his eyes. Lately, things were like that between us. Complicated. I’d admired Justin’s eyes since I was old enough to connect the brown of mine to the color of mud or horse apples in his barn and his to a perfect cloudless sky.
His lips curled up on one side, forming the cutest half-smile on Earth. The smile of my childhood friend killed the whole hot cowboy thing, as usual. His family had moved to Zoar when we were in fifth grade. We met when Dad bought me a pony. The Mazes taught horseback riding and performed at shows. They ran the only stables in town and made a killing. I’d sold the pony and kept Justin instead.
“What?” I looked around, avoiding eye contact. Allison was gone.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Can I walk you to class? It looks like Allison’s gone man hunting.”
I nodded.
“Let me.” Justin took my book bag and tossed it over his shoulder. He palmed two books in his free hand and headed to my homeroom. If I had giant mitts like those, I’d leave the book bag behind, too. Together, those hands spanned the width of my waist. In the past year, he’d touched me more often, more casually, more protectively and I liked it. In the weeks since my summer break up, he’d carried me, spun me and playfully tossed me over one shoulder with those hands and he’d set me down, carefully cradled in sculpted arms, pressed to his rock hard chest. My cheeks burned at the thought. I pressed my mouth shut, thankful he couldn’t know the things I thought about him or the way his confident touches made me feel. We were crossing a line lately. A dangerous one. Even my mom mentioned the flirting last weekend after Justin came by for lunch. Flirting with my closest guy friend was weird. Having him flirt back was flat-out bizarre. It needed to stop.
We cut through the lunchroom and skirted around a table of jocks befitting the title. One mimed the throwing of a football and a group of freshman girls clapped. Three guys in jerseys huddled up around a lunch table and made low, whooping sounds. I sighed, thankful for the freedom of my summer breakup. I used to be one of those girls.
Kirk Fennel called to Justin as we passed. “What’s up, Maze?”
Justin lifted his chin in acknowledgment. “Don’t pay any attention to him,” he whispered. “He knows what he lost.”
Justin’s breath warmed my cheek as he leaned in close to encourage me. The gesture provoked Kirk, my ex-boyfriend, King of the Jocks.
“Sloppy seconds, man,” Kirk scoffed.
My traitorous eyes brimmed instantly with tears. Justin flashed him a middle finger and kissed the top of my head. A hush rolled over the jocks. We turned the last corner to my classroom and I blinked back the emotion before tears spilled onto my cheeks and everything got worse. Justin slid my bag off his shoulder. I nodded a thank you; my throat was too tight to speak. After three months of taunting, I should’ve gotten used to Kirk’s ignorance, but instead, each new insult piled the stress higher until I wanted to implode.
I turned for homeroom and ran headlong into someone. “Sorry,” I croaked, careful to avert my tear-glossed eyes.
“Pardon me.” A deep, unfamiliar voice stopped the breath in my lungs. He moved away from me, sidestepping, as I swiped a renegade tear. Grr.
Justin turned around, watching the guy I’d collided with walk away. “Did you hear him talk?” Justin’s slow southern drawl made me smile.
“Yeah.”
Even in the space of two words, the accent was strong, nothing heard around Zoar or anywhere in southern Ohio. Truthfully, the only accent I’d heard in real life was southern.
I pulled in a long steady breath as my composure returned. “Did you see him? All I got was a close up of his shirt.”
Justin looked me over carefully. “No kidding. I think you’ve got a button print on your cheek.”
The second bell rang.
“Shit.” Justin turned and ran.
I barked a laugh and ducked into my classroom. Justin was guaranteed detention when he got to his homeroom unless those eyes and dimples could get him out of it.
Who was I kidding? He wasn’t in trouble.
Mrs. Forrester took attendance, opened a paperback, and ignored us for the next ten minutes. I doodled and eavesdropped. Word of the Hales’ reappearance had saturated the town. My classmates speculated not-so-quietly about the fancy black car in the student lot and where the Hales got their money. Mobsters. Crime family ties. Tax evasion. Royalty. I’d heard all the possibilities already.
“They’re Norwegian.” Rosie Krebs failed at her impression of the accent.
Kristy Hines fanned her face as she spoke. “And gorgeous. Did you see them? Drop. Dead. Gorgeous.”
My mind drifted to Kirk’s crude comment about sloppy seconds. We’d dated for two years and never made it past second base. This summer he’d had enough waiting. He started by pressuring me with the usual coercion tactics. I’d do it if I loved him. He needed proof of my feelings. Blah. Blah. Blah. When that hadn’t worked, he’d tried name calling. I was a baby. Immature. Chicken. Whatever. I’d considered breaking up with him but couldn’t bring myself to toss away two years of my life, even though the years weren’t awesome. I’d gone to the Fourth of July bonfire contemplating having sex with him to get it over with and end his nonstop begging and pestering. That’s how bad it had gotten. I’d been prepared to make a life altering decision out of annoyance.
Allison had run late, per her usual, making us late for the party. The bonfire had raged. Kids filled every square inch of light around the fire. I’d wandered through the field, checking my hair and breath. I’d never gotten so many weird looks. Twenty minutes later, I’d found him in his truck with Hannah Snyder’s face in his lap.
The bell rang and I dropped my pen. A few students snickered.
For the past three months, Hannah and Kirk had been the hot new “it” couple and I’d been the school joke. Somehow, probably to make herself feel better, Hannah insisted she’d found me in the truck with Kirk the following weekend. In her version, they were together and I’d made the disgusting effort to win him back with oral, but he tossed me aside. Hence the sloppy seconds comment. Me, Callie Ingram, possibly the least experienced senior in school, had become the class whore with a snap of Hannah’s fingers. Pure magic. Of course, Kirk made no attempt to disprove the ridiculous lie. Even his stupid jock friends who teased me and called me a prude for two years had suddenly believed the bullshit and everyone did their share to help spread the lies. If anyone other than Justin and Allison was unconvinced, they didn’t say. No one wanted Kirk’s or Hannah’s vitriol aimed at them.
I hustled to first period, head down, biting my tongue, and counting days until graduation. If Kirk confronted me again, there was no telling what I might say after ten minutes of fuming in homeroom. Anyone who stood up to his crew of jersey-clad jerks brought on the wrath of ignorance for all time. Smarter to wait them out than speak up. Let someone else cross their radar. Smarter, but there was my big mouth to consider.
Kirk appeared at my side, pulling me against him as I walked. “Hey, sorry about earlier. We’re cool, right?”
If “we’re cool” meant he was brain dead, then yes. I shrugged him off me outside my first period class. “Kirk, I know I broke your heart and you’re having a tough time getting over me, but I told you, we’re through.”
A round of snickers rose up around us. Kirk’s face twisted into a scowl.
I flipped my hair and strode into class. “Concentrate on trying to please Hannah, okay?” I’d pay for that later.
I slid into my seat, imagining ways Kirk might retaliate. To my chagrin, the next person through the door stared me down with a look somewhere between disdain and curiosity. I silently cursed my life. I locked stares with him, ready to tell him what I thought of… Wait, who was he? My mind puzzled, overlooking the obvious. To make matters worse, he was enchanting. I pulled in a breath when lack of oxygen insisted. Not male model perfect or Hollywood hunky, but…something. He was something. Not a guy I’d want asking too many questions about my contentious relationship with Kirk, for sure. He stopped at the teacher’s desk and handed her a slip of paper, glancing my way, as the teacher signed his slip.
“Hale.” Mrs. Potter examined her tiny laminated seating chart and pointed at me. “Take the seat beside Ingram. Welcome to Ohio History.”
Hale. My heart leapt. I should’ve expected he was one of the Hale brothers, but hating on Kirk had scrambled my brain.
His lips curved down as Mrs. Potter waved him off to sit with me.
I narrowed me eyes. Jeez. After all the awful things I’d heard about him, we had an even playing field as far as I could see.
He slid into the empty chair beside me. The room was small, set up for discussion, like most of the advanced classes. It was probably a closet a hundred years ago when the school was built. Two rows of tall tables and metal stools served as seating, repurposed from wood shop when that class got better ones. There were twelve kids in class now.
I smiled at the side of his head. “I’m Callie Ingram.”
He turned his face my way and lifted his chin infinitesimally. He lacked the honey hued skin of the other students, remnants of their fading summer tans. His jaw was square in an interesting way and his face composed of long straight lines. The misty green of his eyes was something I’d never seen before. Reluctantly, I dragged my gaze away from his face. His shoes were some sort of canvas loafer, nothing anyone I knew would wear. Jeans. Those were normal, though his were perfectly crisp, not wrinkled from spending last night on the floor, like mine. Above the waist, he wore a blue and green plaid button-down.
I swallowed hard and touched my cheek with one hand. His was the shirt I’d run into in the hallway. Maybe that was why he wasn’t speaking to me.
Hannah arrived as the tardy bell rang. Kirk slapped her on the rear as she sashayed inside, looking victorious.
The Hale guy clucked his tongue. “Looks like he took your advice and got over you.”
I whipped my head around and my mouth fell open. He’d heard me in the hallway and threw my words back at me. His clear green eyes invited a response, but his expression was blank and unreadable. What could I say? A dozen things ran through my mind, none of which I wanted to say aloud.
Hannah took a seat at the table in front of us and swiveled in her chair to smile at my new table partner. “Wow, Callie, stare much?”
I glowered in response. For some ridiculous reason, it irked me that their golden blond hair matched. Hannah wore hers with platinum highlights and a streak of blue underneath, taking team spirit to a new level in case anyone dared forget her status as the football king’s girlfriend.
I tapped my pencil erratically against the table, praying for class to start and the awkward tension to end.
She extended her hand to the Hale brother at my side, pointedly ignoring me. “Hannah.” She wiggled her fingertips when he didn’t respond. Her sparkle polish twinkled under ugly fluorescent lighting.
“Liam.” His voice was low and rough.
Nerves slicked my palms and I dropped my pencil. Again. Embarrassed and hurrying to pick it up, I cracked my forehead on the desk. Heat shot up my neck and scalded my cheeks. I forced my eyes open, despite the pain shooting behind them.
Hannah gaped at me, rolled her eyes, and turned away. Liam didn’t bother making eye contact, but his cheek lifted slightly in what I imagined was his wildest show of emotion.
Finally, Mrs. Potter started class.
“In the interest of keeping your attention and in the spirit of the season”—Mrs. Potter lifted a stack of books and moved to the front of her desk—“we’re going to spend a few weeks looking at Haunted Ohio.” She walked the aisle between tables, dropping small paperbacks on each as she passed.
“We’ll concentrate on the long and significant history of each location during class, not the wild imagination of those reporting apparitions and whatnot, but you’ll be permitted to include those details in your papers, should you choose, so long as the paper is based on historical fact and relevant to this class.”
“Now, who can name a historically relevant building in Northeastern Ohio and tell me why you chose it?”
Every hand went up, aside from mine and Liam’s, and I wondered absently if we had the same historically relevant building in mind. I ran my fingertips over the book sitting in front of me, eager to check the table of contents. I dared a glance at Liam. If Hale Manor was on those pages, as Buddy suggested, what else about Liam’s family was true?