All of the Voices by Bailey Bradford (little red riding hood read aloud txt) 📗

“I don’t mind at all.” Matt started the car and put it in gear. The ride back to his place was spent on small talk, the two of them getting to know each other better. They swapped stories from their childhood—Carlin had happier ones than Matt, that was for sure—and they went over their favorite movies, songs and books.

“Are you hungry?” Matt asked as he parked in his driveway.

“I could definitely eat,” Carlin told him, “but I can’t cook for shit.”

Matt laughed as he shut off the ignition. “No problem. Let’s get your bags carried into my bedroom and you can shower or relax while I fix some enchiladas.”

Carlin gave him a look of adoration. “Ohhh, enchiladas! I love enchiladas! Beef, cheese, or ch—wait, not chicken. Beef or cheese?”

Matt noted the feverish light in Carlin’s eyes and laughed again. “You really do love enchiladas, don’t you?”

Carlin nodded enthusiastically. “They’re my favorite. There’s this one little hole in the wall restaurant in New York…” The light dimmed in Carlin’s eyes and his expression became pinched.

Matt rubbed Carlin’s shoulder then leaned over and kissed him gently before unbuckling Carlin’s seatbelt and opening his door.

“It’s okay, Carlin, we both knew you weren’t staying here in McKinton. I meant what I said to everyone at the table today. You’ve always been up front about where you belong and I would never expect you to leave your dad alone in New York.” Matt unbuckled his own seatbelt and opened his door. “So, beef or cheese? You never said.”

“Beef, with lots of cheese.”

“Then that’s what we’ll have. Come on.” Matt got out of the car and walked over to the trunk. He hit the button on the fob and pulled the trunk lid up all the way. They grabbed the luggage and Matt slammed the trunk shut then walked beside Carlin until they reached the door. Maybe it was creepy, the way he wanted to touch Carlin constantly even though he refrained from doing so, but he couldn’t make himself keep what his mother would call a respectable distance.

“Can I ask you something?”

Matt set down the suitcase he was carrying and looked at Carlin. “Sure. Anything.”

Carlin sniffed then tipped his head to the side, reminding Matt suddenly of a certain rooster. “Why is it I smell cookies when I’m with you most of the time?”

Shit. Ask me anything but that. Carlin would definitely think Matt was off his rocker if he told the truth, but he didn’t want to lie, either.

“You asked me about whether or not I smelled cookies the first time you came to the motel,” Carlin mused. “I know it’s not your cologne. You don’t wear any, and if you did, I’d think you’d pick something that didn’t remind people of baked goods.”

Matt fumbled the key into the lock as he tried to think of a plausible explanation that wouldn’t make him come across as unhinged and wasn’t a lie.

“See? Or rather, do you smell it? It’s even stronger now.”

“Damn it all to Hell,” Matt muttered. The scent was stronger, almost cloying. He unlocked the door and opened it quickly, hoping the odor would dissipate once they were inside. “Come on.” Matt picked up the suitcase and carried it inside to his room. Carlin locked the door and was behind him, nearly stepping on Matt’s heels.

“It followed us inside,” Carlin pointed out. “It’s everywhere in here.” He walked around the bedroom then wandered out into the hall. Matt followed him and watched as Carlin opened every door and sniffed. “I haven’t seen any of those plug-in air fresheners, or potpourri, nothing like that. But every time I catch a whiff of that scent, I feel kind of warm and…” Carlin stopped in the middle of the living room and blushed to the roots of his hair. “This is going to sound crazy, but it almost feels like Aunt Mary is with me.” He groaned and walked over to the couch then plopped down. “God, I’m losing it.”

Matt’s stomach clenched with fear as he thought he might lose Carlin, but he didn’t have a choice, not when Carlin was so obviously upset and thinking like he was.

Taking a seat beside Carlin, Matt steeled himself for the worst. He took Carlin’s hand in his and cleared his throat. “You’re not crazy. Severo, he’s…” How the hell did he explain what Severo did? Matt plowed ahead before he could change his mind. “I guess you’d say he’s a psychic, though he really doesn’t like that term. He can, uh, he can hear ghosts, spirits he likes to call them. Says ‘ghosts’ reminds him of kiddie cartoons and Bill Murray.”

Instead of looking like he thought Matt was full of shit, Carlin was staring at him with a hopeful expression. “Can he really do that?”

“Yeah,” Matt said, thinking about some of the weird crap he’d seen in the past year. “He used to consult with police departments all over the United States. You can get online and type Severo Robledo and psychic and you will get thousands of hits. A lot of them are accountings of his work with the police, but he cut back on doing that once he and Laine became a couple.”

Carlin grunted and scooted closer to Matt. “I’ve heard about people like him before. Didn’t you tell me he came to McKinton around the same time Laine’s stalker did?”

“A little before. He said a spirit nagged him into coming but wouldn’t tell him why, or maybe the spirit couldn’t tell him, I’m not sure which. Turns out it was Laine’s deceased lover, Conner, who wanted Severo here to warn him about McAlister. Conner nearly froze Severo to death trying to get the message across, but things worked out in the end.”

“Except you were nearly killed.” Carlin smoothed a hand over Matt’s stomach. “And you had your heart broken by Rich.”

“Not broken,” Matt corrected, knowing that would come when Carlin left. “Just bruised, along with my pride. As for nearly getting