It's late when Nicolás arrives at the house, cutting the ignition and getting out to have a look around. It's large, reminding him of those old horror movies he used to watch in college, surrounded on three sides by dense woods. "Honey," he mutters as he opens the trunk," I'm home."
Nico shoulders his pack and grabs the box holding a few legal documents he has to look over, then slams the trunk closed and starts for the front door. It's going to be weird living so far away from California, but at least he'll be able to see his little girl in person again. He's missed hearing Taylor running through the house and the random hugs she likes to distribute, so it'll be nice to settle back into a routine.
Smiling at the thought of seeing her face light up, Nico unlocks the front door and steps into the front hall, gazing up at the curving staircase in wonder. His house in Cali had been pretty big, but this place really takes the cake.
He follows the sound of soft voices, coming into a nice living room that smells freshly painted, spotting Matt's sister sitting on the couch with a half-awake little girl lying nearby. Taylor has her head in Lee's lap, mumbling sleepily about something or another, too soft for Nico to understand.
"They got you on babysitting duty," he asks, grinning when Taylor's head snaps up and a smile brightens her face. Taylor's off the couch and hurdling towards him in five seconds flat, practically throwing herself forward with the blind faith that her daddy won't let her fall. He catches her with a grunt, hefting her up to sit comfortably against his hip. "Nice to see you again, Lee."
"Yeah, you too," she mumbles back, standing slowly.
"Where is everyone?"
"The hospital right now." Nico arches a brow and Lee shrugs in return. "Shelby ran off in a crying fit and Matt went after her. Apparently he found her a few minutes ago as she came bursting out of the woods like a crazy person before fainting. The text Matt sent me ended up waking Taylor and I was just explaining that things would be okay."
"There was bad people here," Taylor says, eyes shiny with tears. "They ran around the house and- and they pulled me out of bed by my hair!" She points to a spot close to her scalp and Nico can see flecks of dried blood interspersed in the blonde strands.
"Well, I'm here now," he tells her, pressing a kiss to her tender head. "No one's going to be hurting my girl again."
"You'll scare 'em off?"
"That's right, Princess." He sets her back down on the couch long enough to put the box on the coffee table before taking a seat himself. His daughter curls up in his lap, burying her face in his neck. "Why don't we go on upstairs and I'll read to you?" He'd hoped the suggestion would be met with agreement, but Taylor only tightens her hold and shakes her head. "It's almost three in the morning, Taylor. I get that you're worried about Shelby, but it's way past your bedtime."
"You can't actually get upstairs yet," Lee tells him. "The intruders strung up these weird dolls that crisscross all over the stairs and I haven't had a chance to take them down. I didn't want to leave Taylor by herself in case those freaks came back for a second round."
"Seriously?"
"Come see for yourself." He follows her back into the entryway, noticing for the first time that there are crudely made dolls hung up on strings that wind in between the balusters and dangling from the second-floor railing. "Corn husk dolls, like kids would make way back when." Lee shakes her head, the disgust clear. "And those hillbillies think that'll scare my brother out? If nothing else, he'll stay just to show those racists they're not scary."
"It wasn't the hillbillies," Taylor says.
"Then who was it?" She doesn't talk again, not even looking up to see the expectant expression on Lee's face. "She's the only one that got a good look, but I think she's too scared to talk about it. Can't say I blame her, I'd probably be scared if someone snuck into my bedroom, too."
"Let's just take this crap down so I can get upstairs," he grumbles, setting his daughter back on her feet. She doesn't stray far as he and Lee begin untying the intricate knots, Nico beginning to wish he had his glasses since the knots seem to get smaller and smaller the further up they get. By the time they make it to the second floor, an hour and a half has passed and his fingers are beet red.
"At least that's finally done. Now, if you've got Tay, I'm gonna go collapse in my bed for seven hours. If something happens before I wake up, then just leave without me." She disappears around the corner, leaving Nico and Taylor behind. The six year old is curled up on one of the steps, attempting to wiggle a finger into her cast to scratch at the dry skin there. He knows from personal experience how itchy casts are and makes the decision to dig a ruler out tomorrow for her to use until the cast is removed.
"How are you feelin'?" She shrugs in answer, not quite meeting his gaze. It takes his sleep-deprived brain a full minute to realize she's looking at something over his shoulder, but he finds nothing when he turns to look himself. Sure, there's an alarming build-up of dust on the floor, but nothing that would hold his daughter's attention so fully. He looks back to Taylor, but she's still not paying him any attention, laughing at something. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, Daddy," she says quietly, but she's still smiling. "Can we go to bed now? You can sleep with me until Lee goes home."
"Sounds like a plan."
She springs up and grabs his hand, leading him over to one of the doors and pushing it open. It's about the same size as her old bedroom, painted a pale yellow with white trim, a few posters of kittens and fairies tacked to the walls as decoration. Her bed is twin-sized, some old Christmas lights twined around the headboard and shining a beautiful sky blue color. The floor is the same wood as the rest of the house, though there is a fuzzy yellow rug right beside her bed and an old toy chest set against the foot of it. Shelby has done an excellent job replicating Taylor's old room, no doubt hoping it would make the transition easier.
"Come on!" It's only then he realizes he'd stopped in the doorway to examine everything, feeling as though he's been transported back to LA for a moment. His daughter pulling impatiently on his hand to make him come read her a bedtime story, the sound of footsteps just down the hall that means a woman is getting ready for bed, and the smell of strawberries lingering in the air from Taylor's lotion. It's almost too perfect, his eyes stinging as he blinks memories away.
"Right, sorry." He follows her inside, tucking her in beneath the thick pink comforter. "What are we gonna do tonight?" It's an old tradition, one they've done Taylor's whole life, and the blonde's smile brightens even further.
"Have sweet dreams!"
"That's right, the sweetest of dreams ever had." She wiggles around until she's leaning half off the bed, scooping up a book before resituating herself so that she's comfortable again. Nico takes the book from her, letting out a surprised laugh when he recognizes it. The Princess Bride, Monica's well-cared for copy he'd sent with Taylor when she first came to stay with Matt and Shelby. "Alright, now that we know what kind of dreams we'll be having, let's find out how Buttercup's doin'."
He's barley found the right page and looks up again when the faint snoring reaches his ears, Taylor sound asleep with her hands fisted in her covers. She's completely relaxed, features softened and all traces of sadness washed away as she enters dreamland.
With a soft smile, he reaches out to adjust her left arm, careful not to wake her up as he pulls some of the comforter out of the purple cast. He studies it a moment, taking in the names printed in block letters across it, though his smile disappears when he makes it to the elbow. The name there is written in cursive with several flourishes to it, looking more like professional calligraphy as he attempts to make it out.
"Who the hell's Edward," he mumbles, leaning closer to get a better look. As far as he knows, there were no Edwards in Matt's family tree and there damn sure hasn't been any visitors to the house that would've had the chance to sign her cast without her telling him all about it on the phone. Sure, it could've been one of those police officers, but Taylor hadn't sounded very pleased on the phone when she talked about them, so he doubted it.
But the evidence is right there on her cast, signed using a black Sharpie and still looking beautiful. How is that even possible? He can barely write his name in Sharpie on a fucking box without it bleeding through and looking awful, but this man has managed enough swirls and loops to take up the entire elbow. He shakes his head with a sigh, deciding to just ask her in the morning and hope it isn't just one of her imaginary friends again.
With a grunt, he stands and places the book on top of her bookshelf near a Pooh Bear plushie before heading back downstairs. He's exhausted, but he knows the front door needs to be locked. His mind wont' let him rest until he knows the house is secured, so he goes down the list of things he would've done in their old house; lock the doors, check the windows and draw the blinds, and then going back to check the alarm system only to find it missing.
Nico pulls his phone out and types in a memo to buy an alarm system the next time he goes into town. With everything that's happened at this place, he isn't taking any risks when it comes to his baby's safety. Pocketing the phone again, Nico grabs up the box he'd left in the living room and heads up the spiral staircase.
Taylor is still sound asleep when he pokes his head in her room, so he feels comfortable enough to go up in the attic for a few minutes to sort through his stuff. The boxes are piled up against the far wall beneath a window, clearly labeled with black Sharpie that still bled into the cardboard no matter how careful he was. Maybe I should get some lessons from that Edward guy. He lets his box drop to the ground, ignoring the dust motes that sway in the moonlight as he begins digging around.
He ends up spending a good three hours in the attic just trying to find some clean pajamas and clothes for the next morning. One of the boxes has already been opened and Monica's book of poetry is missing, Nicolás' heart beating out a fast rhythm as he tries to find it. That is the one book she treasured above all others, so why the fuck isn't it here?
He remembers settling it carefully on top of everything else in the box and then sealing it twice with packaging tape to make sure it wouldn't fall out. Yet here the box is, both layers of tape suspiciously missing along with the book.
"No," he mutters, tipping the box over and dumping the contents out. "No, no, no. Where is it? Where's the goddamn book?" He's about ready to storm downstairs and wake Taylor up to see if she'd taken it when he hears a loud thump behind him, the noise like a gunshot in the otherwise silence of the house. Nico spins on his heal, short strands of his black hair hanging in his eyes hindering his sight. He pushes them back impatiently, letting out a whoosh of air when he spots a blue-green book lying near the stairs.
He doesn't question why he didn't see the book when he walked in or what made the god-awful loud noise at first, letting relief consume him as he grabs the book up and holds it tight against his chest as though it's his wife he is hugging instead of her favorite book. In fact, it isn't until he hears the pacing of footsteps nearby that he even bothers to look around.
The attic is still empty apart from him, the faint light not revealing the cause of the noise. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and a tingle shoots up his spine, a feeling a Déjà vu slamming into him like a truck. Suddenly he was in another attic and he was a little boy, talking to a woman that wasn't really there and no one but him could see. He knew she couldn't possibly be real, but his child's mind simply accepted the woman as fact.
With her floaty hair and kind blue eyes, how could she possibly not be real? Her name was Taylor Morris, she'd told him, and she liked to play on the old tire swing in the back yard. She'd mussed his hair the first time he'd acknowledged her and spoke in fluent Spanish like his abuelita, telling him how happy she was that she had someone that could see her again. He remembered the smell of honeysuckle that was prevalent in the south during the summer months, the warmth that filled the attic, and the absolute heartbreak when he had to leave again before school started.
His abuelita passed away soon after that and her house was sold to a nice white couple, so he'd never seen the nice dead woman again. It seems she'd never really left his thoughts considering he'd named his daughter after her, the name carrying a sense of nostalgia even if he wasn't sure why at the time. Now it's clear and he can't help a smile as he comes out of the memory, honeysuckles following him back. Nico takes one last look around the dusty room, tightening his hold on the book.
"Thank you," he says to the dead man just barely visible in the shadows.