The *** House

I spent the rest of that night hiding from Tate. I didn't know what to think about what I'd heard, and I knew that asking him questions would get me nowhere. Still, I couldn't be upset with him. By the sounds of it, his past was more mottled than my stomach, and I couldn't blame him from wanting to escape the judgements that had followed him for all this time.

I left my makeshift bed in the study early the next morning, stepping outside and deciding to explore the backyard for the first time. A large wooden gazebo was nestled into the shade, though it appeared to be about a century younger than the house. It looked pretty, but out of place. I stepped inside and sat on the bench, looking out at the trees. This place really was beautiful, especially for a house in the city.

"Want to help me tear this piece of shit to the ground?"

I clutched at my chest as Hayden appeared next to me. She had a twisted smile on her lips. There was something sinister about her, and I felt like it wasn't just because she was a homewrecker. When I caught my breath, I scowled at her disturbed enthusiasm.

"I'm not planning on destroying anything."

"That's too bad," she trilled, getting to her feet and dragging her fingertips across the smooth railing behind her. "I really hate this thing. It's pretty much the most depressing tombstone in existence."

"You're buried here?" I asked.

"They had to hide the body somewhere, didn't they?" There was a morbid twinge to her tinkling laughter. "My family doesn't even know that I'm dead. My sister thinks that I ran away and got together with Ben. They think that I got my fairytale ending."

"Look, Hayden, I-" I stopped short when she vanished again. I let out a yell, and I watched a crow take flight from a nearby tree in fright. "I am really getting sick of being around ghosts. Can't somebody just stay where they are for awhile?"

"Right, because you're so good at that part."

I closed my eyes tightly, as if that would make Tate less real. After a long moment, I let out a breath and faced him. He looked hurt. I didn't like the feeling that came over me when he had that pained expression in his dark eyes. I didn't like being the one that made him look that way.

"I'm sorry," I said. I stepped up to him, but I could feel his hesitance lingering between us. "I didn't mean to stay away, but I needed some time. First they found my body, and then Constance came in all upset and accused you of killing me, and I... I just needed to be alone for a little while. I didn't mean for you to get upset."

"You talked to Violet about me," he said. His voice quivered, and I feared for a moment that he would break down in tears. "Why would you do that, Ainsley? Why couldn't you just talk to me?"

"Because you never give me straight answers!" I threw up my hands in frustration. "All I want is the truth, and you never seem capable of that. Whatever it is, I can handle it. I'll be here forever, Tate. Forever and ever. And you're the only thing that has gone right for me. So why would I hold anything against you? How could that possibly be good for me?"

He reached out then and touched my cheek carefully. His fingers brushed against my skin, and I leaned into the contact. I forgot to breathe for a moment. Tate leaned in toward me and let his lips press against my forehead.

"This isn't about you," he told me, letting his hand fall back down by his side. "This is about me. I'm not ready for you to know yet. When I am, I'll tell you."

I swallowed dryly, trying to recover from the tender moment. "Okay," I agreed. "I trust you."

A car door echoed in the distance, and Tate and I both looked toward the house, as if to view where the sound had come from. The clack of wood against wood reverberated around the yard next, and I slipped past Tate in order to check out the commotion. Footsteps followed me, and Tate spoke in a low voice.

"Don't be seen. But you don't have to hide from me, okay? Just from whoever is in the front yard."

I nodded, staying close to him as we rounded the corner of the house. A woman was standing in front of the For Sale sign on the front lawn. She had short hair, and her stature was tiny. She was muttering darkly under her breath as she attempted to attach a smaller sign atop the other one. It appeared that we were going to be subjected to an open house. I raised my eyebrows, and Tate chuckled lightly beside me.

"Crazy old woman. She actually believes that she'll sell this place? Not a chance. If she does, the Harmons will just scare them off again."

A wicked grin danced across my face. "Why wait for that? An open house could be fun for us, wouldn't you agree?"

Tate looked surprised, but not displeased. "Who knew you had a wild side, Ainsley?"

"Everyone who doesn't currently reside in this house."

"The Harmons will make sure that if the house sells, nobody will stay here more than one night. They even get Beauregard in on the action. He loves being able to help."

I shrugged lightly, leaning up against the brickwork of the house. "I'm not saying that we'll destroy anything. Old houses are weird, you know? Maybe someone will be crazy enough to buy it anyways. And then Beau can still have his day in the sun."

Tate smiled, and it melted my insides. He really loved his brother. I wondered what had happened to make him hate his mother so much. I decided then that his past with Constance didn't really matter. His past with anything didn't really matter, actually. All that I cared about was the kind of person that he was now. And as far as I could tell, there was nothing wrong with him. Everyone else who had issues with him had known him for a really long time. It was impossible not to find some kind of flaw with a person that you've known for several years. And as for the murder accusations, well I just found that I had a hard time believing that.

"In that case," he said as he watched the realtor struggle with the sign. "I'm in."

Marcy, the realtor, spent about an hour that day staging the house. It didn't really take much, since all of the furniture was already in place. All she did was add a bowl of fresh fruit to the kitchen counter, and scatter flowers in vases throughout the rest of the house. I noticed that she didn't even venture down to the basement, and I couldn't blame her. I was dead, and that part of the house still chilled me to the bone.

She locked the door behind her as she left, and Tate and I made our way to the study. Lately, he had been staying in there with me. It was nice that he was staying away from the other, darker spirits of the house. We sat down on the sofa together.

"So what are you thinking?" he asked, getting down to business. "What's your plan to mess with this open house?"

I didn't really have any concrete ideas. I gave him a sheepish smile. "I don't know. Ghost stuff? Maybe we could just move stuff around. To be honest, I'd have just as much fun messing with that realtor as with potential buyers."

Tate laughed, and there was something mischevious about it. For the first time, I saw him for how young he really was. It was easy to mistake him for someone older when he was acting so dark and tortured. I often forgot that he was the same age as me physically.

"You want to scare off Marcy? But if you make her too afraid of this place, she won't come back. And then we would have no new entertainment at all."

I frowned. "I see your point. So what do you suggest?"

Tate leaned back into the sofa and put an arm aroung my shoulders. "We'll figure it out. Even if we just decide things as we do them in the morning. Come on, you should get some rest. Tomorrow will probably be the most exciting day that you've had here so far!" Tate's fake enthusiasm brought a chuckle to my voice.

I leaned my head against his chest. "Every day is exciting here. I get to spend every day with you."

"Awww," Tate kissed the top of my head lightly. I noticed that he had done that twice to me today. I had no idea if he meant it in the way that I hoped he did. It seemed that he had forgiven me for talking to Violet, and he wasn't even aware that she had given me her blessing. "Things have gotten better for me since you've been here, Ainsley. I didn't want you here, when I first saw you on the lawn. This house is crowded enough, you know? I figured you would just be angry like everyone else, but you're different. You actually like talking to me. And I really like talking to you."

I closed my eyes and cuddled into his side. "I haven't missed my life as much as I should."

"Life is overrated. I hated my life. I'm not really a fan of this house, either, but it's proven to be a better alternative to life."

I didn't really know how to respond. I was a teenager; I had days where I thought that my life was the worst thing that anyone could ever experience. But overall, it hadn't been so bad. I'd had parents that were somehow still married after twenty-three years, which was almost unheard of these days. I had an older brother who had picked on me for my entire life, but he had taught me how to take care of myself and stick up for myself when other kids were mean. I hadn't been popular, by any means, but I had a couple of good friends who had stuck by me even when I got us all into bad situations. Even though I had always felt alone, I realized that I never really had been. And now, in death, I still couldn't honestly say that I was on my own.

Tate would never leave me to be on my own.