Page 13 of Witchy Chick

“Don’t answer it,” she said quickly.

I couldn’t just ignore his calls because then he’d know something was going on. I frowned at her then pushed the button. “I’m driving with the kids so I can’t talk.”

His low voice was almost startled. “Oh. Is it Sage’s volleyball game?”

“No, we’re just having a fun family outing,” I said, forcing a smile. They said you could hear it when someone was smiling.

“I got fries!” Jerome cried, leaning forward and spilling fries all over the console.

It was silent for a beat while I stared at those fries and felt like my skin was coming apart. Jerome started wailing about his precious fries then Jackson joined in because apparently Jerome took some of his.

“Sage, can you clean that up? Clark, I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later.” I hung up without waiting for him to say anything else. I couldn’t bear it. The screaming was bad enough, but everything was so unreal. Normal. And yet impossible.

“I already blocked him,” Sage said, picking up each individual fry like it stank and throwing it into the backseat at the boys, who were sharks in the water, catching the fries and forgetting about screaming.

“You shouldn’t block your father,” I said, frowning as the lane widened out to a gloomy clearing with the house sitting in the shadows of the trees.

I pulled up to it, all of us staring at the place. A figure stood on the porch, long black hair, long leather coat, looking like a vampire cosplayer. A light was behind him, warm, welcoming, which was a relief. Had I actually kissed that guy? Impossible. And yet…

“It’s so creepy!” Jerome said then threw his door open and launched out of the car, Jackson close at his heels. They ran for the woods screaming instead of toward the house, like two escapees from prison.

I guess I couldn’t back up and drive away until I got them in the car.

“There’s something wrong with that guy,” Sage said, frowning at the figure on the porch. I’d texted the number on the flier asking if I could see the house, and someone had texted back, but I hadn’t expected the person I’d kissed in a bar to actually be here. I might die from humiliation. If only humiliation was a quick death.

I squared my shoulders and straightened up. “Don’t be rude. We shouldn’t waste his time.” I opened the door and stepped out in the drizzle, walking quickly over the soggy ground that sucked at my loafers until I stepped onto the porch. It was like stepping through a bubble from the cold world to a warm haven of safety. It felt like home.

“Can I see the flier?” the guy said, hand out, suspicious, like he hadn’t been the one to give it to me.

I stared at him, remembering the kiss with that beard nest as I slowly pulled the flier out of my bag and handed it over. He unfolded it and frowned at the sheet. “That’s the rate? And there’s an option to buy or rent-to-own?”

“You sound surprised. Didn’t you make the flier?”

He glanced at me, dark brows over dark eyes. “No. My sister.”

“Oh. You have a sister?” He seemed like the type of person to spring from the primordial earth, complete with tattooed knuckles.

“And a brother. We live down the road a bit.” He nodded in the direction of the cemetery.

“All together? That’s amazing. Most siblings fight too much to live together.” And most people didn’t have to see the people they got drunk with in bars the next day.

His glower was impressively dark while his eyes glimmered dangerously. “It’s not by choice. My sister’s the oldest, and she fought to keep us together when our parents died. My brother’s still in school.”

I blinked at him, trying to see past the beard. His brother was still in school? I’d assumed he was in his thirties or forties, but on closer examination, he had no eye crinkles. He had a world of weariness but not a single permanent wrinkle, although, with the way he scowled, he was working on it. “How old are you?” I asked, which was rude, but I needed to know that he was in his thirties so I didn’t feel horrible about kissing him.

He shrugged. “Nineteen.”

I died. I dropped dead and my soul flew away like a miserably infected robin. I’d kissed a nineteen-year-old? That made me a predator. A cougar. That’s what they called older women who preyed on the young, right? Although he’d hit on me. But I should’ve asked him for his ID. Drinking was the worst idea anyone had ever had.

I sputtered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to⁠—”

Sage came onto the porch, giving the guy a sneering once-over before nodding at me. “Are we going in or what?”

“In? Where?”

She cocked her hip and crossed her arms. “The house. That we came to see. Remember?”

I took a step away from the child vampire cosplayer, stumbling on a loose board. “Maybe this is a bad idea. I don’t know you, and I don’t think there are any good elementary schools around here.”