“I can’t go through his other files,” Cali said. “I only went through Stan’s because it involved me.” And what she’d read disturbed her. Yet, try as she may, she still didn’t think he’d killed anyone. From the written report, it seemed obvious Brit and the police felt differently.
“Brit won’t mind if you look at it.” Her mom’s gaze moved around the room. “Nice house. Do you know how much homes are going for in the area?” Even dead, her mom talked real estate. “Four hundred thousand at least.” She pulled a cigarette to her lips and stared at Cali. “I’m not just your maternal psyche.”
“Are you a ghost?” Cali asked, not that she would believe even if Mom said yes.
“No. You have to really want to hang around to go to that level. I’m just a not-ready.”
“What’s that?” Cali pulled her knees to her chest.
“It means I’m not ready to pass on. I’ve got unfinished business. There are a lot of us here.”
A tingle spread down Cali’s spine and she looked about the room. “Where?”
“Around.”
“What unfinished business?” Cali asked.
Her mother smiled and her bracelets played a soft jingle. “You. I need to help you.”
“Help me do what?” Cali drew a pillow closer.
“Well, at first I thought I was just going to help you move away from the grief, but then everything went to shit—Stan and the other murders.” Her mother frowned. “But I’m not any good to you if you don’t listen. I told you not to stay at that hotel again. If you hadn’t gone with Brit, Stan would have found you. And it wouldn’t have been good.”
“Great, nothing like knowing your dead mom has to haunt some guy to get you a date.”
“Please. I didn’t haunt him. He did that because he cares.” She chuckled. “He actually is really good at ignoring me.” She hesitated. “Seriously, you should see your auras. You two can’t be in the same room together without them practically attacking each other. And I mean in a good way.”
Cali blushed. “Well, I can’t control what my aura does.”
“I’m not saying control it. I think you should go for it.” She paused and looked back at the door. “I also said for you to call Sara again and remind her to tell her mom to get a second opinion.”
Cali stared at her painted toenails. “I’ll call tomorrow.” And not because her dead mom told her to. But because, well just because.
“Don’t be hard on yourself.” Her mother pulled a drag of smoke into her lungs. “We also talked about your father.”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” Cali said, surprised that she had spoken so bluntly.
“We don’t have to talk. You just need to know that it wasn’t your fault. He left because he didn’t have the balls to stand up to his responsibility. We both wanted to fix him, but we couldn’t.”
“I hardly remember him.”
“You remember.” The night’s silence followed. Her mom sighed. “You’re not a doormat. You have a weakness for the dominant male, but most women do. And most men have the tendency to be dominant. It doesn’t mean they are all abusers, like Stan. Or your dad. But like I told you, you’re more of a fixer than a victim.”
Her mother went to the window and stared out. “Think about those relationships again. They all had something you wanted to fix, didn’t they?” The lull of the night seemed to move her mother farther away. The dream almost faded when her mother said, “You can’t fix people Cali. Not even Brit. You can help him, but he has to fix himself.”
~
“Damn it.” Brit sat up and quit pretending he could sleep. He needed Cali to sleep. It was a king-size bed, and she wore his sister’s pajamas for God’s sake. He wouldn’t touch her.
Remembering his promise to keep his clothes on, he slipped on his jeans and shirt and crept down the hall to his room, ignoring his better judgment with each step.
Trying not to look at her, he pulled the covers back and slipped between the sheets. One deep breath of her sweet scent and the tension in his shoulders melted. The mattress shifted, he felt her roll over. Unable to resist, he turned to see her.
Her lashes, blond but long, rested against the tender skin beneath her eyes. Her nose, perky and small, tilted up ever so slightly. Her mouth—she had lips that could wet a man’s dreams. So lost in looking at her lips, he didn’t realize that she’d opened her eyes. But when he saw those beautiful orbs of blue, his breath caught.
She lifted up on her elbow. The flannel around her breasts tightened and so did he. He realized his mistake then; it didn’t matter who the pajamas belonged to, it was the woman in them that interested him. He fluffed his pillow, just to keep his hands from drawing her against him. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I thought you’d be at work.”
“I’m off tonight.” He looked at her and his chest swelled with fear that she’d send him away.
“Oh.” She looked toward the door. “I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
He frowned. “We’ve done this before.”
“Yes, but...” She sat up a little higher. “There wasn’t a sofa in the other room.”