Ghost Hunter by Serena Akeroyd

Author:Serena Akeroyd [Akeroyd, Serena]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Drake

The banging of pots and pans calms me. When yoga doesn’t work, and I’m stressed out, I cook.

It’s probably useful that Jayce is an eater. She’s not the kind of woman who picks at her food. Nor is she the type to question what I feed her.

If I put a plate down loaded with calamari, she’ll eat first, ask questions later. I once made a rabbit stew, and she only asked what it was when she broke out in hives.

Who knew you could be allergic to rabbit meat?

Still, she’s the source of my irritation today.

Or is that agitation?

All afternoon, I’ve been thinking about what she’s going through, and I hate the fact she’s been shielding this from me.

We’re a team, she and I. At least, that’s what I thought. Now, knowing she’s been hiding this from me, even if it’s for my own protection, I feel like she’s kept me out of the loop and undermined what we have together.

After my nephew died, things got a little dark for me. I can’t lie. I had some very bad days. I tumbled into depression, and I just couldn’t get out of the black hole.

Knowing how to treat myself, what I’d do with patients of my own, didn’t help. Seeing a shrink didn’t either.

It was a real shitty way to see, firsthand, that psychological treatments don’t always work.

The idea that my nephew had overdosed on drugs, when I’d always believed him to have never tried anything like that, felt like more than I could handle.

I’d needed closure. I’d needed to know, once and for all, if he had taken drugs. If he had overdosed. And as I just couldn’t believe that of him, the only alternative was that it was no accident at all. But murder.

Learning the truth, that I was right to have faith in David, had helped. Not being able to get justice had knocked me back, but Jayce had been the bright light to help me out of the darkness.

Maybe it was stupid to rely so much on her, but she’s exactly what I needed to free myself from the grip grief had on me.

I got involved with her cases, am involved with her romantically… my life is completely different than how it was, and I like it.

I like where we’re going.

At least, where I’d believed we were going.

My stirring skills leave a lot to be required; I toss more onions out of the pan than I manage to sauté.

A red sauce from scratch is today’s meal plan, and as I chop up fresh tomatoes and use canned San Marzano tomatoes too, I try to work off a little of my irritation.

When I hear the door bang close, I don’t call out a greeting. That’s how angry I am.

The passive aggressive technique maddens me, but I’m incapable of anything else.

I guess I’ve worked myself up into a temper, and I just have to process it.

She wanders in, bringing sunshine and the scent of sweet, musky femininity. If the

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