The Haunted Heart: Winter by Josh Lanyon

Author:Josh Lanyon [Lanyon, Josh]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Erotic Romance, Paranormal, GLBT, gay romance, ghost, playwright, vintage, antiques, racism, connecticut, haunted, louisiana, creole
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

I woke to a sound like the Crack of Doom.

I tried to pry my eyes open.

Earthquake? Tornado? Demolition Derby?

No.

Snoring.

The kind of snoring probably not heard since the last woolly mammoth entered the deep freeze.

I sat up, dislodging what appeared to be a couple of small silver balls, which jingled merrily down the sweep of olive brown blankets till they hit the floor and, still tinkling with holiday cheer, rolled away under the coffee table.

Kirk, sprawled uncomfortably in a tangerine-hued “easy chair” that looked anything but easy, sat up with a snort. He peered at me through the gloom.

“Er, sorry. I think I was sleeping on your jingle bells,” I said.

He cleared his throat a couple of times and got out a scratchy, “You okay?”

“Disappointed Santa didn’t bring me a fire engine. Otherwise fine.”

Kirk didn’t say anything, and some quality in his silence, raised prickles of unease on the back of my neck.

“And how are you?” I asked politely.

“Fine.”

“What time is it?” I shoved the blankets back and another silver ball rolled down the slide of bedding, it’s jingle muffled by the folds. “What the heck?” I found my cell phone. 11:57.

“It’s practically noon!” I told Kirk. “I slept twelve hours.”

“Monday.”

“Sorry?” I began to think the trouble I was having reading Kirk’s expression had nothing to do with the poor light.

“It’s noon on Monday. You’ve been sleeping — mostly — for thirty-six hours.”

“What?”

“Check the date on your phone.”

After a moment, I looked down at the screen on my phone. Monday, February 13, 11:58. “That’s weird. I haven’t been sleeping more than a couple of hours at a time.”

Yeah. It was a lot weirder than oversleeping. That was more like a coma. Or catatonia. Or the first day of summer vacation.

Kirk tossed aside the blanket he’d been using, and rose. I saw that he was dressed in jeans and a corduroy shirt.

“I don’t understand.” I knew from the way he was acting there was something more at work here than me oversleeping. Mostly I was grateful that whatever had happened, he hadn’t phoned my parents.

“Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Go out?”

“Yeah. Let’s go get breakfast.”

“Well…but wait a minute. I have to shower. I have to brush my teeth.” My mouth felt like a moldy carpet and I urgently had to pee. “Is the mirror — where’s the mirror?”

“The mirror’s in the shed on the east wing, wrapped in a tarp. Not that it makes any difference.”

I was getting more confused by the moment. “How did you move it by yourself?”

“Using the tarp and a rope tied to my truck.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Just let me wash up and change my clothes.”

“You can wash up down here.”

“Now you’re starting to weird me out.”

“I think it’s better if we stick together.”

A cold sinking feeling washed through me. “Look, I know I was — I know I lost it last — Saturday night. But I’m okay. I’m not going to jump out a window or anything. Really.” Now I was worried that maybe he had reported my breakdown to my parents.

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