I woke to a painful bubble in my chest so I burped to release it. Pulling my covers up to my face, I buried myself deeper into the cool sheets. I always had bad indigestion after drinking that much.
"That was attractive." An uncomfortably close and familiar male voice said.
I shoved back with all the force I could muster and fell out of bed with my legs tangled in the sheets. Struggling to right myself, my eyes shot to where the voice originated.
Ian sat upright in my bed with one of my current reads tucked in his hands. He had a teasing smile plastered on his face as he took in my disheveled appearance. "If that's how you wake up every morning with a bedmate, it's no wonder it's been unoccupied for so long."
I wanted to retort with some snarky comment, but the fact that he sat there in my room, in my bed was still a difficult reality to accept. "Why?"
"Why indeed? Why are you such a bad big sister, Nicole?"
I gripped my forehead as my hangover headache began pounding. I did not want to throw up again. "That's none of your business. I know we've been getting along better lately, but this is too far."
"Let's see here. You're the one who wandered up to my place. The hall reeked of both you and alcohol. I couldn't help, but be curious about why you wanted to see me so I stopped over to find you delirious and about to walk out of your apartment at three in the morning." He slid out of bed, still completely dressed in now wrinkled khaki pants and a navy dress shirt. "You were a danger to yourself."
"So you stayed the night to keep an eye on me?" I asked, brushing my tangled curls from my face and trying to put last night's timeline back together in my head. "That sounds awfully nice of you."
"Yeah, well, you can just call me Mr. Freeze. And furthermore, you're getting into a really bad habit of not locking your door again. Someone could just waltz right in and rob you blind, or worse." He walked around the bed to my side and extended a hand to me.
I grabbed hold of his hand and pulled myself up, kicking the sheet off of my foot. "I'm not sure there's anything scarier out there than you. I think I might have lost a few years off my life waking up like that. What were you doing out at three am?"
"Coming back from work." He released my hand and took a step back. "You really should call in, by the way, it's almost nine."
"I took the day off." With that I wandered over to my dresser and grabbed a few articles to make an outfit. "Shouldn't you be passed out or catching fire or something?"
I froze, timidly peeking over my shoulder at him. "Um, sorry, that came out harsher than I intended."
He just smiled at me, impervious to my morning-hangover-grumpiness. "That's direct sunlight and I'm awake, aren't I?"
I continued to the doorway and paused so I could face him. "Please, tell me you don't sparkle."
"I don't sparkle."
I released a breath and my shoulders loosened. "Thank God. I honestly don't know what I would've done if I found out that was true."
He shuddered and followed me out of the bedroom. "Yeah, I probably would've tried harder to off myself if that were the case."
My feet fumbled and I stumbled into the door frame, tripping forward. The clothes flew from my hands as I attempted to catch myself on the sink.
"Are you sure you're not doing that on purpose?" There was a hint of annoyance in his voice. Ian had a hand tucked under my arm and righted me before my hand ever reached the sink.
"I'm sorry." It was all I could think to say. He'd tried to commit suicide. It hurt to think about, the pain from last night still burning my throat and pounding in my head. Had it hurt more because Ian intentionally did it? Why didn't it work? Did he give up because he still wanted to live? Did Philip realize he'd gone too far? Did he lie there praying someone would stumble upon him again and bring him back? Did he hate me because I never showed up that time?
"Hey, you okay?"
I didn't turn around as I nodded and closed the door behind me. I blinked a few times, but my eyes remained dry. I must have drunk so much that my body wouldn't let me waste any water on crying. The dull ache in my heart pounded in time with my skull while I splashed some water on my face, brushed my teeth, and changed into my jean shorts and wide strapped tanktop.
When I stepped out, I hadn't expected to hear a hissing sound from the kitchen nor the delicious smell of pancakes. I peeked around the fridge and saw Ian standing at the stove. "What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious? I thought you were supposed to have a great sense of smell?" He smiled at me over his shoulder, before looking back at his task.
There was no stopping it. My jaw dropped a bit, which was awkward because my mouth was watering at the smell of breakfast food, my favorite type. He stood there content with working even though he seemed a little concerned about whatever was happening to the pan. His arms flexed as he lifted it into the air and began scrapping eggs from the bottom of my stainless-steel pan. He'd probably forgotten to add more oil. The smile had faded from his lips and his eyes narrowed at the mess that he'd made.
Before my mouth could drip, my lips closed and curled into a smile. I walked over to him with a shake of my head and turned off the stovetop. "That's plenty for me. When was the last time you made breakfast?"
"1973."
He was full of surprises this morning and being so forthcoming with information was nearly at top of that list, following closely behind being in my bed when I woke up. That was probably going to haunt me later, but I didn't want to think about what that meant now. "Really? That's almost forty years ago."
"The concept is still the same, I'm just a little out of practice."
"A little?" I glanced up at him sidelong. His scent tingled my nose pleasantly as I stood next to him. I swallowed as my mouth had continued to water. "How about we just sit down to eat now?"
He chuckled for a second while that mischievous glint flickered in his eyes. "How about I grab something for myself from my place? Go ahead and start without me. I wouldn't want you to lose your appetite for some reason."
Whatever saliva I'd gathered evaporated when I realized what I'd said. I walked quickly away from him to the corner with my clean dishes and grabbed both a fork and knife. Was I going to turn into an undead creature like him if he bit me one more time?
Ian didn't even look at me as he set the pan down on an unused burner and left.
Thank goodness I hadn't done anything else idiotic like grabbing a butcher knife instead of a butter knife. He was being oddly friendly today so I shouldn't ruin it with paranoia.
Rather than sit down in my Recliner of Refuge, I instead chose to sit on one end of the couch. Placate, don't isolate. That thought ran through my head up until I heard a brief knock on my door and Ian popped back in with a silver thermos. I took a bite of pancakes and a scoop of slightly blackened, scrambled eggs.
He really was going to keep me company. What had I said when he showed up? He said I was about to walk out of the apartment when he'd intervened. Why'd he ask why I was a bad, big sister? My eyes widened, my breath caught in my throat, and I whipped around to stare at him.
He acted just as nonchalant as before. Here he was, his dark brown hair a bit tousled from who knows what and a fresh set of jeans and a gray shirt. He was so much bigger than Philip. How could I have mistaken him?
"Oh my gosh, I'm so embarrassed. Why didn't you snap me out of it last night?" My cheeks heated and I drew my hands up to them to cover my face.
"In my defense, I thought you knew who I was up until the line about failing me and being a big sister. Then I remembered you had a brother." He watched me as he sat down on the other end of the couch, leaving a whole cushion between us. "I take it something happened."
I looked back at my plate, unsure if I was more afraid of bringing it up or letting it simmer inside again. "Yeah, something happened."
"I'm a great listener." He said with a gentle smile and a shrug before taking a sip from his thermos. After I shot him my best disbelieving stare, he added, "okay, I can be."
"Something tells me that you're normally the one talking."
"Depends."
"On what?" I glanced over at him as he took another big gulp. Even though I knew what was in there, he just looked so ordinary, so human. At least until there was a smear of red on his lower lip that drew my attention. Realizing that I was staring, my eyes darted to my plate of pancakes and what had ended up as scrambled eggs.
"On if I allow the other person a chance to speak."
"I'm pretty sure that doesn't make you a good listener at all." I chuckled, taking a deep breath and forcing the image of his red tinted lips from my mind.
"Well, how about you give me a try then since you're so adamant that I'm human deep down." He teased me with a toothy smile.
"Insatiable little monster, aren't you?" I exhaled loudly, rolling my eyes and leaning back into the couch. Half a plate of food was a decent enough breakfast after nearly two bottles of wine.
"You forgot persistent, cunning, and sometimes downright diabolical."
I cocked my head and stared at him. He looked so proud of his description that I just shook my head and relaxed back into place. "I'm not really sure where to begin."
"How about with a name?"
"Philip." I closed my eyes and could picture his dirty blonde hair that was always swept to the side.
"Philip Cooper, sounds like a good guy."
"He was." I sighed, opening my eyes to stare at the blank TV screen. "Wait, how do you know my last name?"
"I make it my business to know who my neighbors are, Nicole Cooper, and how is that the thing that bothers you about me? Of all the things you could list off, the fact that I know your last name is the big one?" He leaned his back against the armrest and let his leg bend onto the empty cushion barrier between us.
How could he look so normal? I mean, wasn't he supposed to be some menacing creature that hunted down people? "It just surprised me. I figured you had no idea who I was other than the woman who lived downstairs. Why are you so worried about who your neighbors are?"
"Security. It's a habit from work." He replied with a shrug, then shifted and lifted his breakfast to within inches of his lips. "Anyway, how much younger was he?"
"Six years. My parents really spread us out, I think my mother had some fertility issues or something. She never talked about them though, it's not like I was seeing anybody seriously enough when we were still talking." I grabbed a couple of curls and began tugging them out into a straight line before they sprang back and I did it again.
Ian finished his sip and made sure to lick his lips clean this time. "Why don't you talk anymore?"
"Because of what happened to Philip." I tugged harder at the curls, pulling a few strands out. Then I leaned back into the couch cushions to settle in.
"What did happen to him?"
"He died." I could feel those eyes burrowing into the side of my head, but I didn't look at him. "Of alcohol poisoning."
Ian stared at me, a brow raised incredulously as he crossed his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep his mouth shut.
"Look, I know what you're thinking, but I didn't drink nearly as much back then. I was basically a social drinker in college so I don't know where he picked it up. He was all about playing video games through elementary school so we bonded through those. I'd catch him up at three am on a school night because I'd log in at my dorm." I took a breath and stared at my hands in my lap. "Anyway, we first noticed his problem when he was eighteen. He'd raided the liquor cabinet at the house and smuggled it all to his room. Luckily I was home for the weekend so I found him passed out in a pile of his own vomit and called an ambulance."
"Lucky you."
A humorless smile graced my lips. "Yeah, that was a fun night. Well, I left him in my parents' care because you know, I had a life I had to get back to. I'd text him and keep up with him that way, but I couldn't be there all the time."
My fingers interlaced each other and squeezed. "He'd been doing really well for several months. Apparently he'd had therapy and was getting back into the groove of college, but something set him off and he spiraled down again."
"I see."
"You know, it's so easy to lie through texts. But I thought I knew him. How did I not notice? I was messaging him every day and had no idea he'd started up again. My parents found him. They called an ambulance again, but it was too late."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too. You should have heard the fight with my mother after I got to the house. She'd started yelling that it was my fault. All of my late nights out and my bringing up drinking in the 'House of No Spirits' was to blame. Even though, I didn't do anything that bad. Sure, I snuck out a few times and maybe there were a couple incidents of underage drinking and a case of parental disrespect and undermining from time to time. Being a teenager with siblings that much younger was tough. I was always the babysitter whether they were home or not. If I wanted to go somewhere, I'd have to take them along. So being alone or with people my age was something I relished when I could whether I got permission or not. Hell, half the time, I'd just drive to the next neighborhood over and hang out at the park after dark just for some peace and quiet."
I exhaled and pulled down on my jean shorts. They had scrunched up my thighs as I readjusted myself on the couch and I felt exposed. "She said I set the example for the rest of them. So because I was the bad apple, they began to rot too. If I'd been a better daughter, a better big sister, he wouldn't have hung out with the people that he did. Like I had any control over that after I moved out. I had my own issues to deal with: finding a job, finding a place to live, bills, student loans. They relied on me too much. She was just looking for someone to blame. We all were. But her words stuck with me. They wouldn't have if I didn't kind of believe them myself, right?"
"Is that why you don't have any pictures of family here?" He asked, not bothering to look anywhere else besides at me as he set his thermos on the coffee table.
"Why should I? We haven't talked since I moved here. It's been more than two years now and I'm sure she still blames me. In all of the times she's left me voicemails, she has yet to take it back, yet to apologize for that. Dad sure hasn't tried to speak up. Neither one of them probably want me around to ruin Isla, their last chance for a perfect child. I moved so I wouldn't have to see them. They don't know where I live now."
"But you still kept the same number? If you really wanted to disappear, wouldn't you have cut that last connection?"
"It was too much effort."
A cool hand brushed my shoulder, making me jump. He leaned closer so his fingertips could rest on my arms. "Or are you just trying to torture yourself with doubt and guilt?"
"Sometimes the world just gets a little overwhelming and you acting like you care is tipping it over the edge." I shifted my arm and shook him off, looking over my left shoulder at the empty kitchen. "Thanks, but shouldn't you get going so you can do whatever it is vampires do during daylight hours?"
"Nah, I have some free time so I may as well pester you while you wallow in misplaced guilt. Since you have a penchant for routines, do you want to lose to me in MarioKart again?"
I rolled my eyes and glanced at my open liquor cabinet. I was down to only three bottles of wine again. "I know it's stupid and doesn't make sense to you, but I can't just wipe my conscience clean."
The couch shifted as Ian moved closer. His hand gently grasped my chin and directed my gaze to his, where his eyes blazed in that beautiful steel blue color I'd grown to love. "Nothing you said leads me to believe any of that was your fault. We all make choices and you shouldn't let someone else's hold you down. You did your best to help him, didn't you?"
"But I let him down. I let them all down. Why couldn't I save him?" Tears started brimming in my eyes, blurring his image.
"Maybe he didn't want to be saved."
"Even more of a reason that I should have." I choked back a sob as I tried to avert my eyes.
"Regardless, it wasn't your fault. When did you become the sole care-giver for him?" He wiped away something from my cheek with his thumb and recaptured my gaze. "Stop blaming yourself, Nicole. It's eating you up and if you keep drinking this much, even I'll manage to get drunk off your blood."
Something warm squirmed in my chest as I stared into the eyes of this strange guy. Then a small half smile formed on my lips and I reached out to hug him, which he surprisingly allowed. "Does it really work that way? Can you actually get drunk off blood?"
"In more ways than one, yes." He said while taking a hand and brushing my hair repeatedly in a soothing manner.
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