The Guidance - By Marley Gibson Page 0,84

smiles at me.

Yeah ... this house—and all in it—is at peace.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Like I do after any super-intense ghost investigation, I sleep like the dead—ha-ha ... get it? The dead ... never mind—Sunday morning, not waking up until well past noon. (Oops! Father Mass is going to notice my absence in the Moorehead section.)

After a near thirty-minute shower and an extensive blow-drying session, I slip on my jeans and my most comfy T-shirt. Celia sent a group e-mail out to everyone saying we were doing evidence review at Becca's house. Jason's giving me a ride over.

Dad's at the office—yeah, on a Sunday—and Mom's working on a science-fair project with Kaitlin in the den when I hear the tires of Jason's Jeep crunch on our gravel drive.

"You heading out?" Mom asks.

"Going to Becca's to look at what we captured last night."

Mom blinks hard. "Did you get enough rest? I know ... that sort of thing tires you out."

"I did. No worries."

I hear the tink-tink of the horn and I run over to kiss Mom on the forehead. "Love ya! Mean it!"

Outside, Jason steps from the driver's side and comes around to open my door for me. He lays a soft kiss on my lips before he shuts me in.

When he retakes his seat behind the wheel, I ask, "To what do I owe this honor?"

His eyes sparkle against the bright November afternoon. "Trying to be a gentleman."

"You always are, Jase. You're the best." I choke on my words. Not because they're not true, but because it's incredible that this amazing guy has stood by me through all of this stupidity.

He stares at me with those powerful blue eyes of his until I almost feel like he's the psychic one, reading my thoughts and emotions.

His fingers glide into mine; his thumb brushes the top of my hand. "I know I've been hard on you about all the investigation stuff."

"I know it's been—"

"Shhhh!" he says quietly. "I've been selfish and demanding in wanting a girlfriend who wants to hang out and do things just with me. What can I say? It's what I was used to. And I wasn't understanding enough about what you've been going through."

"Jason, it's been really—"

This time, his hand moves to cover my mouth. "Damn, Kendall. Shut it, will ya?" he says with a hearty laugh. "I'm, like, baring my soul here. Guys don't do shit like that."

I smile underneath his palm. I let him finish.

"The investigating is important to you and even though I've been skeptical, I enjoy being a part of it with you. What happened last night was ... whoa—I don't know how to put it in words. Even though I didn't see what you saw, or experience what you were going through, I could almost empathize with this awakening thing. I could see that you believed in what was going on. That you really helped that dude find peace. That you reunited him with the love of his life ... in death. It was unlike anything I've ever observed." He stops for a sec and brushes his knuckles under his chin like he's reliving everything. "You did something useful, even when it meant it might suck out all of your energy. And you helped Courtney, despite the fact that she's a roost-ruling bitch. That's classy, Kendall. Not everyone would have done what you did for her. She owes you."

He takes a deep breath and sort of holds it.

I wait a moment. "My turn?"

"Yeah," he says, his eyes sparkling.

I lean across the stick shift and take his face in my hands. I plant the fattest, wettest kiss on his amazing lips and then pull back. "You are the best boyfriend I've ever had."

His eyebrows rise. "Aren't I the only boyfriend you've ever had?"

"Semantics," I say, using Father Mass's word.

This time, Jason kisses me. The kind of kiss that makes me crinkle up my toes inside my Timberlands.

"This weekend," I say. "You and me. No one else."

"Not even Emily?" he asks.

"Sorry she's been so aggressive with you."

"She's protective of you."

I shake my head. "I don't need protection from you."

Jason kisses me again. And again. And again. Mmmm ...

We'll eventually get over to Becca's.

Taylor's exuberant smile nearly lights up the room. "I outdid myself, I must say."

"These pictures definitely don't suck," Celia notes.

We're spread out all over Becca's den with bags of Doritos, Tostitos, and Cheetos sustaining us through our evidence review.

"The temperature analysis I did throughout the night indicates areas with drops in degrees at the same moments