Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,134

stay here with you.”

I loved Eddie, I did. I knew exactly why he’d decided to take over the house with me for the last three weeks.

Uninvited.

The lake house no longer held Zora’s special touch. It didn’t smell like pineapple or citrus in the bathroom anymore, or in the sheets. There was no more music, no Stevie Wonder, Aretha, Coldplay, Maroon 5. No more dancing in the kitchen while her pie cooled on the windowsill.

Just Eddie’s shit all over every surface, his loud snoring from the guest room down the hall, and his insistence that I fix things with Zora.

As if it was that easy.

Even Sir Duke had been in a serious funk. He lifted his head from the corner of the kitchen, where he lounged on a cushy dog bed.

His canine expression clearly telegraphed, How could you do this to us?

I realized Eddie had turned my laptop around, typing something at full speed.

“What are you doing?”

“Done. Alright. Your secretary is clearing your schedule and having mine do the same.”

I scowled. “Why?”

“Because you shouldn’t be allowed around other humans until you figure your shit out. And I’m tired of waiting for you to figure it out, so I’m stepping in.”

“Stay out of it.”

“I’ve been deputized by Aunt Nan and Mrs. Leffersbee. Resist and it will get back to them. Now. Go get your ass in the car.”

I was going to choke the life out of him. “Where are we going?”

He grabbed my keys off the wall.

“You’re going to show me where you grew up.”

I guided the car down a vaguely familiar street. Gradually, the streets became increasingly familiar, with all the updates and modernizations twelve years brought. The parked cars along the streets got newer, the lawns and house exteriors more polished. What was a fledgling middle class neighborhood many years ago had clearly come up in the world.

I coasted to a stop in front of a ranch style home fronted by an immaculately manicured lawn. Precise diagonal stripes evidenced the current owner’s care for the property. I slid the gear into park and just sat, taking in my childhood home.

My mother had saved for years to make the down payment. I still remembered when she’d surprised me as a kid one evening after baseball practice. “Just taking a drive,” she’d said when I’d asked her why we’d deviated from our normal route home. She’d worked hard to sound normal, but I’d spotted the telltale curl at the corner of her mouth.

I’d known her so well.

For a time.

She’d pulled into this same driveway and parked. My mouth had fallen open when she reached for the overhead visor, and just like magic, the garage door ahead of us began a slow ascent.

“You’ve got a yard to practice in now, baby,” she’d said. As I sat there taking in the shy pride on her face, I’d known I’d never forget the moment. I’d flown out of the car, rounding to her side to hug her.

Then we’d cartwheeled all over the grass until our new neighbors came over and introduced themselves.

Thinking of it now, recalling the brightly colored plants that once filled the now-empty flower bed, an anchor dropped in my chest.

Damn, this hurt.

“Let’s get out.”

I’d forgotten Eddie was in the car.

“Why?”

“It’s a rental now, and it’s empty.”

I frowned. “How do you know that?”

He fished in his pocket, pulled out a key ring. Separated a worn, silver key.

“I looked into it. The owner was fine with us taking a look around. You know, for old times sakes.”

I gathered myself. Debated.

Did I really want to go back in there?

Eddie clapped a hand on my shoulder. “C’mon, man. You got this.”

We got out, made our way to the house. Eddie handed me the key.

Just the act of sliding that key into the lock almost leveled me. I remembered to jiggle the key just right—the lock stuck at times—and winced at the familiar shape of the doorknob in my hand.

And then we were inside.

It was strange, seeing my childhood home this way. It was much smaller than I remembered. The interior was empty, but memories echoed back, filling my mind’s eye with where things used to be.

Eddie asked questions. I took him on a tour. I pointed out my room, my mother’s room.

He made me talk for almost an hour, answering his questions. About Christmases, birthdays, special events. Watching TV with my mother.

Remembering it all hurt, but I was surprised by the reluctant peace that settled over me as I remembered all that had happened in this