Page 29 of The Roommate Lie

Before she climbs into the attic, Muriel opens an old trunk in the hallway and hands us a few supplies. None of them make me feel better. As much as I like this woman, as much as I want to protect her, I’m pretty sure the antique catcher’s mask and baseball mitt she gives me aren’t actually going to help. The pillowcase she thinks I should use to “capture our foe” seems equally ill-fated. Yet nothing is as bad as the swim goggles and winter scarf she hands Charlie.

He puts on the goggles without a second thought, but he hesitates at the scarf. When he tries to hand it back, Muriel shakes her head. “Trust me, dear. In case it goes for the jugular.”

The jugular?

My own neck is wide open, as bare as it gets, and I press my hand to my throat to protect it. Charlie holds back a smile as he ducks his head toward mine. There’s a faint glimmer in his eyes, a whisper of Dangerous Charlie, and I’ve missed that look.

“You’ll be fine,” he says softly, his breath teasing the side of my neck. “Squirrels don’t usually do that…unless they’re vampires.”

I elbow him, trying not to laugh. But mostly, I’m just happy to see old Charlie.

After he puts on his winter scarf, Muriel dons a catcher’s mask of her own, arming herself with an ancient tennis racket that was probably handcrafted by dinosaurs. “Don’t worry,” she tells us as she pauses by the attic ladder. “All my guests are out sightseeing for the day. If we scream, no one will hear us.”

This woman.

Everything she says is the opposite of comforting, even when she’s trying to make us feel better. “Sweet but terrifying” is her natural resting state. Once she starts climbing the ladder, I can’t stop shivering, and Charlie leans back in.

“Are you okay over there, Kilpatrick?”

Those words feel like a gut punch; I have no idea why. His demeanor is friendly, his voice kind, but that question knocks the wind out of me.

Carrots.

That’s what he should’ve said.Are you okay over there, Carrots?But he didn’t.

It’s not a big deal. Who cares what he calls me? We barely know each other, and we probably shouldn’t have special nicknames. But it still bothers me.

Charlie can tell something’s wrong, and his eyes find mine. “We don’t have to do this—you know that, right? We can say no and go home.”

I want to. No part of me is excited about capturing a squirrel today, ghost or otherwise. I’m all set to retreat, but Muriel is halfway up the ladder. She looks so small and vulnerable by herself in that old catcher’s mask. I can’t let her do this alone, not even if I really want to.

Shaking my head, I climb up next, going fast to get it over with. Then I’m in Muriel’s attic, trapped in a tight maze of boxes and old furniture, and I regret everything.

I’ve made aterrible mistake.

Chapter Sixteen

ALICE

The attic is dim at first, but more light doesn’t help. Muriel pulls a chain overhead to switch on the lone hanging lightbulb, and it sways wildly above us. Casting eerie shadows that dance like ghosts.

It’s way colder up here than it should be too; that’s the second thing I notice. It’s summertime, but Muriel’s attic is freezing. As if that squirrel really is supernatural, and his lingering spirit doubles as an air conditioner.

If Charlie wasn’t climbing up next, I’d make a run for it. I’d throw myself down that ladder so fast. Instead, I stand frozen in place, teeth chattering as he climbs up behind me.

“Are you sure about this?” he whispers. “It’s not too late to go home.”

The softness of his voice gives me even more chills, how close he’s standing. If he remembered to call me Carrots at the end, it would’ve been perfect.

Give it a rest, Alice.

I’m not sure why I keep overthinking this. Why I care so much about the word choices of a man I met yesterday—whyI’m thinking about him this much at all. But suddenly, I’m a stuttering, fidgety mess, as awkward as it gets.

Charlie glances down at me. His warm hazel eyes are full of concern, even while wearing those swim goggles, and I have no idea what to say next or how to act normal. So I scurry away, distracting myself the only way I know how.

By hunting a ghost squirrel. While rambling.

“You have a lovely home,” I call out to Muriel as I edge toward the rodent noises in the distance.

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