Where The Heart Is: A Bay City Paranormal Investigations story

do you think—?” “I don’t know.” Rich looked up, dark eyes intent. “They had their own ways, you
know? They never did things like other people.”
Dean studied Rich’s face, looking for answers. “What do you think happened to
them?”
“Truthfully? I think they left. I think they went to find some private spot for Sunny to
die.” Rich shook his head. “I don’t know if they ever told Sommer his mother was sick,
but I bet they didn’t.”
The hard ache twisted Dean’s stomach again. “And you never mentioned it to
Sommer? None of you did?”
“It wasn’t our place,” Rich growled. “All we had was speculation. We had no
business putting our shit on Sommer. He had enough to deal with.”
“I know. I wasn’t judging. Anyone would’ve done the same, I think.” Rich settled against the cushions with a grunt, evidently satisfied.
“Is there any way of finding out where they might’ve gone?” Dean asked. “An
address book maybe? Anything?”
Shifting in his seat, Rich glanced at the archway again. “Uh, well, Sunny used to
keep a journal. It would probably say something in there. But I don’t know where it is. I
mean, I know where she kept it, I saw her put it in there a couple of times, but I think it’s
gone now. Sommer should’ve found it when he cleaned his mom’s things out, but if he
did he didn’t mention it.”
A sudden idea sent Dean’s pulse racing. If he was right… “Where did she keep the
journal, Rich?”
“In the dresser in her sewing room. In the bottom right-hand drawer.”
Chapter Eleven
    In the end, Dean decided not to go looking for the diary on his own. He owed it to Sommer to tell him and let him decide what to do. If he wanted to go looking for his mother’s journal, Dean would be right there beside him. If he’d rather believe it was gone for good, well, Dean would find a way to respect that.
    He was sitting at the kitchen table, still working out how to approach Sommer with what he knew, when he heard the sound of Sommer’s SUV on the gravel drive. Taking a deep breath, he stood and walked outside to help Sommer carry in the groceries.
    Sommer had the back of the SUV open and was pulling out crammed-full plastic bags. Dean stood and watched him for a moment, admiring the taut curves of his ass in the snug faded jeans. Just looking at him made Dean’s balls tighten.
    Shaking off the urge to tackle Sommer to the ground and suck him off right there in the driveway, Dean walked over and laid a hand on Sommer’s back. “Hey. Can I help with the groceries?”
    “Hi, Dean.” Sommer turned, six bags of groceries hanging from his arms, and gave Dean a swift kiss. “Help would be great, thanks.”
Dean hefted the rest of the bags out of the SUV, shut the door and followed Sommer into the kitchen. “Sommer, I—”
His words were cut off by Sommer’s mouth on his. The kiss was deep and aggressive, and Dean’s resolve to tell Sommer about the missing journal went flying right out the window. Dean’s hands opened, the bags he carried clattering to the floor. He had a split second to hope the eggs weren’t in one of those bags before Sommer’s arms snaked around him to pull their bodies tight against one another.
By the time Sommer broke the kiss, Dean was painfully hard and his heart threatened to drum a hole right through his sternum. He stared into Sommer’s eyes, feeling every bit as lust-drunk as Sommer looked.
“Take this,” Sommer murmured against Dean’s lips. He thrust a small, square something into Dean’s palm. “Go into the bedroom. Undress and lie down on the bed, face up. Leave the box on the bedside table.”
Dean swayed and grabbed at a nearby chair for support as Sommer drew away. “Uh. ’Kay.” He managed a couple of staggering steps, stopped and frowned at Sommer, who’d started putting away the groceries. “Sommer?”
“I’ll be there in a minute.” Sommer shot him a smoldering glance. “I plan to keep you occupied for a while, so I need to get the groceries put away.”
“I could help,” Dean offered, though he wasn’t at all sure he could even remember where everything went at the moment.
Sommer chuckled. “Go, Dean.”
Dean’s knees wobbled. Damn, but it was hot when Sommer ordered him around like that. He obediently turned and headed for the bedroom, the box Sommer had given him clutched in his hand.
The ceiling above him creaked, and he remembered with a jolt that one of the inn’s guests for the night had