Apollo's Ghost-Hunting Daughter

Chapter 22

When I woke, I was in the exact same position I'd fallen asleep in. Somehow, I could tell that it was late morning based on the cool light that slipped through the drapes as I came to.

Though my joints were stiff, I felt surprisingly rested. I twisted, staring up at the ceiling for a moment. Alistair still formed a buffer in the middle of the bed. Despite my better judgement, I glanced over at Kipps, who was still asleep. His auburn hair was lightly mussed and shone in the light from the window, which illuminated his profile majestically. I studied the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, the spray of freckles on his cheeks.

A horrifying thought occurred: I wanted to wake up like this every morning, feeling completely rested, totally at ease.

I scrambled to my feet, throwing off the bed sheets as if they had burned me. The sudden movement startled Alistair awake as I dashed to the bathroom, closing the door with a light thump. Unlike last night, color seemed to burn in my cheeks. I nearly vomited before pulling myself together. I peed, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. Then I turned back to the door and balked.

I could march into one of the most haunted houses in Britain without any reservations, but this terrified me.

If Kipps was still asleep, I'd leave a note and slip out of the flat. I was already coming up with excuses when I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob. Unfortunately, when I pulled it open, I spotted Kipps sitting on the end of the bed, petting Alistair.

"Morning," he said.

I flashed him an unconvincing smile and tugged at the sleeves of my sweater, unable to make eye contact.

"I'm going to...tea. Does tea sound good?" I blurted, pointing in the general direction of the kitchen with both hands.

It just felt awkward. Why was I so awkward?

"Sure."

He looked as if he was going to say something else as I bolted for the door. In the kitchen, I filled the kettle and set it to heat, busying my hands by preparing mugs and tea bags. I remember the sugar bowl for Kipps then stood, cracking my knuckles one at a time before staring at my hands as they gripped the edge of the counter, somehow holding myself up.

The floor creaked behind me and I swallowed heavily before glancing over my shoulder.

Kipps stood in the doorway, toothbrush sticking out his mouth as he studied me. There was a concerned furrow to his features.

"Is everything alright, Sloane?" he asked, holding a hand up underneath his chin to catch any toothpaste drips.

I turned back to the sink and tangled my hands in my hair as I chewed at my bottom lip.

"No." The word was barely audible.

"Would you like to talk about it?" His speech was slurred as he spoke around the toothbrush.

"No. I should...I should go," I said abruptly, pushing away from the sink.

"Go?"

"Yeah. Kat will be by later to check in...I'm sorry, I really...I really should go."

Kipps looked at me as if I was mental. I suppose I was, but in the moment, I didn't really care. I could scarcely breathe, cooped up in the flat. For days, I'd been suppressing my feelings and emotions, trying to avoid glancing at Kipps when he wasn't looking, thinking about how much I wanted him to notice me. It had been building, pressurizing.

"I'm not going to stop you, but I'd really like to understand what's going on," Kipps said slowly, as if he was speaking to a caged animal. I was acting like one, so it was fitting. "I'm going to go take of this--" he gestured to his toothbrush. "If you want to leave, leave, but if you want to stay, I'd love to listen."