“Shoot. That was today? Sammy’s gonna kill me.”
“At least I’m not the only one who'll be rolling up late,” I mumbled under my breath, then called out, “Lock up when you’re done.”
Not waiting for a response, I walked out the entrance to the building, pausing briefly to breathe in the cool night air. The city of Huntington was lit up and buzzing with activity. It was a college town after all, which meant the bars and restaurants would be filled to the point of bursting for much of the weekend. While it was great for the local economy, it plucked my last nerve. I craved the quiet, which was why my house was located clear on the other side of town. Out there, I didn’t have to deal with things like “light pollution.” If I wanted to gaze at the stars, I just had to look at the sky. Simple as breathing.
I shook my head, grumbling to myself as I started down the steps. “Jesus, Duncan. You’re turning into a thirty-six-year-old curmudgeon.”
Halfway to the bottom, my phone rang. Expecting it to be Shayne or Waverly, I was surprised when “unknown number” scrolled across the top of the screen. My finger hovered over the green answer button for so long, the ringing stopped. When it immediately started again, I took a chance.
It was the wrong move.
I had no business showing up at Way and Finn’s party, not with how my day had turned to complete shit. Normally, I’d let unknown calls go to voicemail, but for some reason, I answered. Big mistake. It was Niall, my former handler. He was the one I got my orders from when I was undercover. He was also the one who ripped my world apart all those years ago.
When my cover was blown, I never expected to hear from him again, but apparently, I wasn’t very lucky. He called to warn me the group I’d been investigating eight years ago was ramping up for something big. I’m not sure why he thought I’d give a fuck. Those days were solidly in my rearview mirror. Whatever his reasons, all it did was bring up old ghosts I thought I’d laid to rest.
So when I pulled into Finn’s house, I wasn’t in the best mood. But I promised I'd show up, and I’ve only ever broken one promise.
Trudging up the stairs, a million excuses were already running through my head as to why I needed to leave early. I rang the doorbell and waited. A few minutes later, the door opened, but no one was there.
“You’re big.”
I looked down…way down. She was cute for a kid. Her dark hair was pulled back into two ponytails on either side of her head. She was hiding mostly behind the door, but I could see she was wearing fuzzy pink bunny slippers on her feet.
“And you’re short.”
Her ice-blue eyes widened.Fuck.I was scaring her. This was why I should’ve gone home.
“Reagan!” someone else shouted. Then I heard the pitter-patter of tiny footsteps running across the floor. The door opened a little bit wider and then there were two of them.
“Whoa,” the little boy said. “Who are you?”
“Duncan. I work with Waverly. Should you be answering the door?”
Apparently not, because the next thing I knew, the door was slammed in my face. I rang the bell a second time, figuring I’d give it two minutes before I took off. Thirty seconds later, I heard muffled voices on the other side of the door and when it opened, it wasn’t the kids standing there.
“I’m so sorry. They––”
My knees buckled slightly at the sight of her, and I braced my hands against the doorframe to keep from falling.
“Sloane.” It was my ghost. “They told me you were dead.”
“R-Rogan?” I hated that name on her lips, but it was the only one she knew.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“What the fuck?”
“Swear jar, Mom.” The same little boy from earlier came to her side.
“You’re a mom?”
She swallowed, looking between me and the kid next to her. “Rogan, go back to the living room with your sister.”
It was like a shot to the heart. I wonder how her husband felt about his name.Fuck. Did she have a husband?
“You named him after me?”
“I named him after his father.”