Kiss Me Forever - M.J. O'Shea Page 0,3
help with his workload.
“When did you get here?” he asked.
“Few minutes ago. You need help with the Roanoke papers?”
Avery could tell she was holding in a grin. It wasn’t every day that she startled him... but it had happened quite a few times. It had become a bit of a joke between them.
“Yes, please. I’d love that.” He handed her a stack of papers and one of his red pens and tried to shake off the overwhelming unease.
It was nearing sunset when Avery left campus to ride back to his house. St. Charles was beautiful in the evening. The wide boulevard was canopied by old mossy trees and flanked on both sides by incredible mansions. The antique streetcar that ran up and down the middle of it only added to the charm, as far as he was concerned.
Usually Avery appreciated every block of it. But he had an uneasy feeling that night, cycling alone in the growing darkness. He just wanted to get it over with. Get back to his house and lock the door.
The feeling got worse as he drew closer to home. There were shadows behind every tree, a weird tingling sensation on the back of his neck. He nearly got run over by a car crossing Canal, which made his heart race and earned him a jeer from an angry cab driver.
Avery breathed a sigh when St. Charles turned into Royal and signaled that he was nearly home. Of course, nearly home meant he was back in the Quarter, the site of most of his tales of creepy bloodsuckers and ghostly ghouls. He hadn’t even considered another part of town when he moved in. Sometimes he wondered if he wouldn’t have been a bit more at ease somewhere else.
The Quarter was fine in the busy areas filled with tourists in various states of inebriation, street bands and people milling about, but as always the crowds thinned after he passed the church, and soon it was just him and a very quiet street. Avery could’ve sworn there were eyes staring at him from every window and figures in the shadowy alleyways. He judiciously avoided riding under the breezeway at the LaLaurie mansion, but that was nothing new. It had nothing to do with the book falling earlier. Nope. He never went on that side of the street if he could help it.
Soon, though, he was pulling up to his cottage and wheeling his bike through the gate that always screeched when he opened it. Home. He pulled his key out of his bag and went to haul his bike up the stairs to where he kept it locked on his porch.
“You okay, sugar?” Etta’s voice made him jump.
It was just his neighbor. What was wrong with him? She was out on her porch with tea and a plate of cookies. Etta liked the quiet moments where the dark turned to dawn and the day faded into night. She’d told him that once, and Avery had thought it was a little poetic. She had her dressing gown on and a cap over what was certain to be a head of rollers. Her papery, crinkled face was friendly and warm, the closest thing to familial that Avery knew. He waved at her.
“I’m fine, Miss Etta.”
“You know, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Ghosts don’t really exist.” Avery tried to roll his eyes.
He wished he felt as sure as he sounded. He and Etta had had quite a few debates on that same topic over the years. They had to agree to disagree most of the time. Avery didn’t want to think of the possibility that she might be right. Everything around him was far too old for comfort if spirits really lingered on.
“If you say so, darling.” She gave him one of her knowing smiles. “Do you want some tea? I made lemon doberge cake.”
“That sounds fantastic, but sadly I have a pile of papers to mark.”
He held up his groaning messenger bag. He would have another pile of them to grade soon, and as much as Kelsey helped lighten his workload, he still had a long night ahead of him.
“Come catch up soon. And don’t work too hard.” Etta waved. “You always work too hard, sweetheart.”
“Promise.”
He always let out a sigh of relief when he got in the house. Avery had felt like he was at home the moment he’d followed the real estate agent in the front door six years ago. He’d had a big fat royalty check