Page 20 of Walking on Broken Paths

Chapter Fifteen

Jesse stopped dead on his porch, the handle of his carry-on in one hand, and stared at the box by his front door.

The haunted dolls were back.

How were they back?

One of them stared at him, her brown hair all matted, one blue eye lighter than the other. He would’ve sworn she winked at him.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” he asked the dolls, half expecting them to answer.

Dropping his carry-on at his feet, he video-called Parker.

“Miss me already?” Parker answered with a teasing grin. “You only dropped me off ten minutes ago, but if this is a booty call, I’m willing to run a few red lights and be there in five.”

Jesse bit back a laugh. Haunted dolls were serious business. “Parker.”

“Uh-huh?”

Flipping the camera around, Jesse aimed it at the box. “Why are they back?”

“What is that?”

With much reluctance, Jesse stepped closer.

“Is that...?” Parker gasped. “Gah! What the fuck, Jess? I told you I never wanted to see them again.”

He sounded almost angry. Jesse flipped the camera back. “You didn’t leave them on my porch then?”

“When the hell would I have done that?” Parker demanded, his brow knitted. “I’ve been in Toronto with you.”

“So... how did they get from the dumpster—” Jesse looked at it, an eyesore in his driveway. “—to the porch?”

“Oh my god. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod. Do you think they walked themselves there?”

“I do now,” Jesse muttered, only half kidding. “Why can’t I get rid of these fucking dolls?”

“Shhhh,” Parker hissed fiercely. “They’ll hear you.”

Jesse didn’t quite manage to bite back the laugh this time. He gave the box a light kick. “Back to the dumpster with you.”

“You should call that museum in Key West,” Parker said. “The one where Robert is. Maybe they’ll pay you to get them off your hands. It’s win-win.”

“I don’t even want to know the name of the museum some haunted doll calls home. Nope. These are going back in the bin.” Jesse narrowed his gaze on his screen. “You swear you didn’t put these here?”

Parker shuddered violently. “Fuck no. I want to see them gone just as much as you do.”

“All right, well... I’ll let you go so you can unpack. Have a good cruise tonight.”

They’d arrived back in Charlottetown in time for Parker to captain tonight’s dinner cruise.

“Hey, wait,” Parker said quickly. “What are you doing on Sunday evening?”

“Painting the corpse door, hopefully.”

Jesse had primed it three weeks ago, but he’d been so focused on renovating the inside of his house that he’d neglected the door. And although it was no longer a shade of just-been-murdered, he couldn’t help still referring to it as the corpse door in his head.

Parker sent him a hopeful smile that nearly broke Jesse’s heart. “Instead of doing that, do you maybe want to go on a date?”

Jesse’s brain stalled. “A date.”

“Yeah. You know that thing people who like each other do.”

“I only like you some of the time.”

“Liar,” Parker said with a laugh. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“Wear something nice,” Parker added, ignoring him entirely.

“Nice? I don’t do nice in the summer unless I’m meeting with a sponsor.

” Jesse hefted the box of haunted dolls in one arm and heaved it back into the dumpster.

“I do casual in the summer. And this year, I do island casual.” Which, Jesse had found, was different from West Coast casual in ways he’d completely forgotten about during his time away and wouldn’t be able to explain.

Parker rolled his eyes. “Just don’t wear a paint-stained T-shirt and holey jeans. See you Sunday.”

He signed off, and Jesse entered his house with its brand-new hardwood flooring in the living room that he’d installed prior to the trip—after inquiring about chalk line and underlayment at the hardware store.

He’d also given the walls their first of two coats of the Sunny Veranda yellow that Parker had picked out.

It was so much more inviting and homey now than it had been with its white walls and shaggy orange carpeting.

It looked bigger than it had originally too—he’d removed the curtains from the windows, opening the place up.

“Not bad, Mikey? Right?”

Of course, his brother didn’t answer. A current of air against the back of his neck was his only reply, and Jesse rotated on his heel to shut the corpse door?—

But it was already closed.

Huh. Was there a draft coming in from somewhere?

He made a mental note to look for it later, adding to a home renovation to-do list that was as long as his hockey stick.

In the bedroom, he tossed everything from his suitcase into the laundry hamper, took a quick shower to wash the airplane off him, dressed in a paint-stained T-shirt and holey jeans even though Parker couldn’t see him, then got to work.

He placed drop cloths on his new hardwood to protect it from paint splatters and retrieved the painter’s tray, paint roller, and a can of Sunny Veranda paint.

With his Bluetooth speakers blasting Nickelback at full volume, he rolled the paint onto the walls, not thinking about Mikey or his looming date with Parker or how it was probably a terrible idea.

Parker was fluffy clouds against a blue sky and ice cream on a hot Saturday afternoon and the sun’s rays reflecting off the ocean.

Jesse was the unexpected rain shower that interrupted a picnic in the park.

They couldn’t work. Jesse was too damaged to give Parker what he needed. Parker deserved... everything. Warmth. Joy. Safety. Love. The whole goddamn world.

There was a chasm in Jesse, gaping and bleeding, ragged-edged like a serrated knife. Broken pieces of him were littered on the island with his brother, and the glue to put them all back together again had drifted away with the salt-tinged sea breeze.

They shouldn’t have started anything in Toronto. That was too late now, of course, but this date...

God, he wanted it. Wanted it so badly he was afraid it would crumble in his hand if he got too close. But wanting it didn’t mean it was right. Parker would eventually realize that the fragments that made up the remaining pieces of Jesse’s soul weren’t enough.

But maybe they could have the summer.

With the current of air once again teasing the back of his neck, Jesse painted well into the night. Only when he could no longer see straight did he remember to open the windows to air out the paint-stench and fall into bed with an exhausted groan.