Fractured Legacy: Aicil Paranormal Files #1

Chapter 9

Kaylyn

Early the next morning, a buzzing sound infiltrates my sleep. I moan as a body moves over mine and grabs something from the nightstand near my head.

Behind me, Jonah whispers, "Hello."

Then, the bed shifts again, and Jonah disappears into the hallway.

Just as I begin to doze off again, footsteps reenter and cross the room.

"You awake?" he whispers from somewhere past the foot of the bed.

I moan and squeeze my eyes closed.

"I have to take care of something. I'll be back in a few hours, and then I'll take you to get your spare key. Kitchen is a mess but stocked. Make yourself at home."

I moan again, turning over and pulling the blanket up to my neck. I really just don't want to face him. Not that I'm a fan of mornings anyhow. The closet door clicks as Jonah turns the knob, then I hear small scratches and tings, and rustling of clothes.

Finally, after it seems to take him forever to get what he needs, I'm left in silence to drift off again.

Being told to make yourself at home and actually being able to do it are drastically different, especially when stuck in the home of a boss you barely know. By the afternoon, however, I can't relegate herself to the couch any longer. Nor can I call Jonah and ask him how much longer he'll be, so I break down and raid the kitchen. It's not as much a "mess" as Jonah had promised, at least not from my perspective. If he saw my kitchen on a normal day he'd probably have a coronary.

Avoiding the unopened boxes, I settle for a ham sandwich, which I eat standing over the counter. When I start clearing away the mess of crumbs on the counter, I finally hear a car pull into the driveway.

I lean against the kitchen doorway and watch him walk in and directly to the couch where he collapses.

"I take it whatever you went to take care of didn't go well?"

Jonah rubs the bridge of his nose. "Good guess." He let his head relax against the back of the couch and closes his eyes.

I need to say something. Or do something. The asshole has been trying to help me, I guess. "How about I fix you a sandwich? I'm not a great cook, but a sandwich, I can manage."

Jonah's chest shakes briefly as he chuckles, but he doesn't really move. "I'm not going to ask you to wait on me."

"You're hungry?" I ask.

"Starving."

"Then, don't complain." I pull together two more ham sandwiches, plop them on a paper towel—since I haven't felt nosy enough to look for plates—and delivered them to the living room.

I consider making a snarky comment as he takes the stack of sandwiches, but there's something redemptive about our momentary civility. Even though I still have the burning desire to call him an asshole, I also owe him, so I quietly take a seat on the opposite side of the couch and turn her attention back to the television while he eats.

"You feeling better today?" he asks in between sandwiches.

"Sleep can do wonderful things." I don't really have an answer for him. "Speaking of which, you could use some." I nod in his direction but try to avoid eye contact.

"That would be easier without a caseload as long as my arm, a dissatisfied Council watching everything I do, and crazy employees, one of whom showed up pounding on my door in the middle of the night."

I suck in a breath. I didn't miss the tone of humor in his voice, but part of me is jonesing for a release. "How'd you get put in charge here, anyway? You're what, three years older than me? Slight case of nepotism?"