The Line (Witching Savannah, #1)(34)

Freshly showered and dressed in jeans and white T-shirt, Peter was a fresh breath of air in the sepulchre that our home had become. He beamed when he laid eyes on me, and I noticed that the pulse in his neck became visible as he took me in.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be here today. I came as soon as I could.” I hurried over to him and kissed him on the cheek. As happy as I was to see on him, this wasn’t the time or place for more. His disappointed face showed that he’d been hoping for a more impassioned greeting, but he settled for it, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head.

“Well if it isn’t little Peter Tierney,” Uncle Oliver said, walking up from the direction of the library. “All grown up, and nicely too, might I add.” He gave Peter a big theatrical wink.

“Will you stop flirting with my boyfriend?” I blurted out. It felt odd to call him that…but appropriate. Somehow he was so much more to me than a simple boyfriend; boyfriends could come and go, but Peter was a true friend, a fixture, someone I’d always want in my life in some capacity. It wasn’t passion, but a conscious decision that had led me to choose him as my own. But simply saying the word had made me see him in a more romantic light, as sure as if I had uttered a magical incantation.

“Oh, now, Mercy.” Oliver feigned hurt. “I’m simply appraising, perhaps complimenting, but never flirting.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Taylor.” Peter laughed. “If I ever go gay, it will be for you.”

“I’m going to hold you to that,” Oliver responded. “But I’d rather you make that little girl there happy.”

“Gonna do my best to do just that, sir.”

“Sir.” Oliver chuckled and walked away.

“He can really be too much,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Ah, he isn’t that bad,” Peter responded. “And he sure does love you.” He wrapped his arms around me and nuzzled his face in my hair. I took a deep breath and let myself relax in his embrace.

“Yeah, I know he does,” I said. “In his own way at least.”

Peter spun me around in his arms. “I like the sound of that, you know. You calling me your boyfriend.”

“I kind of like the sound of it myself,” I responded and rose up on my toes to kiss his lips. I let my kiss linger, and then pressed my head into his chest. His T-shirt felt soft against my skin.

“Peter.” I heard Maisie’s voice call out as she descended the stairs. I turned just enough to see her coming down, Jackson following on her heels. Maisie had changed from her funeral clothes into a black cocktail dress. So she had chosen to go formal for the evening. Next to her, I would look totally underdressed, but next to her, I would always come in second place anyway. Even in an old gray T-shirt and cutoff shorts she was astoundingly beautiful. Dressed like this, it didn’t seem possible that any straight man could resist her. Flawless skin, a small straight nose, and heart-shaped lips that looked great even with no lipstick. Her honey blond hair hung loose, falling for a moment over her sapphire eyes. She brushed it back with her hand.

“Hello, Maisie,” Peter responded. I didn’t want to see his reaction to her—I was sure he’d be as dazzled as any other man—but I couldn’t help myself. I turned to look at him. And in his eyes I saw nothing other than an honest friendliness. Then he looked back at me, and I saw fire. Something rushed from my head all the way to the soles of my feet, and if he hadn’t been holding me, I could very well have keeled over.

“Jackson. Good to see you,” Peter said, his eyes still locked on me. I turned to face the staircase when I heard Jackson’s name. His beautiful features were twisted into a combination of jealousy and barely suppressed rage that I would only have expected if he’d walked in on Peter and Maisie going at it.

Maisie read something in my expression and turned in time to catch what I had seen on Jackson’s face. She swiveled around quickly, pretending not to have noticed, but I knew her too well. I had seen her angry often, and this kind of anger, the cold kind, was the most frightening. “If you are hungry, Peter, there are a ton of leftovers in the kitchen,” she said, descending the rest of the stairs. “You should hurry on back and have some before Iris chases you out of here, though. Family business is going on tonight, and Iris is very limited in her definition of family.”

“I was kind of hoping we could get you out of here for a bit,” Peter said to me. “Mom and Dad asked if we’d stop by the tavern for a while tonight to see them.”

“Nothing doing, son,” Jackson boomed. “Haven’t you heard? Killer on the loose and all that?”

“No, I haven’t heard anything. What’s the hell’s going on?” he asked, addressing me as if we were the only two people in the room.

“The police caught the man they think killed Ginny,” Jackson answered for me. “Some guy named Burke. But he escaped.”

“They aren’t sure he’s through with us yet,” Maisie said. Her mouth pulled into a slight frown and her eyes focused on an empty point a few inches in front of her. Perhaps she was trying to scry, trying to foresee any future danger.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Peter exclaimed, pulling my attention back to him. “How did he escape?”

“Detective Cook said that he just plain disappeared,” I answered.