Page 97 of The Spider & the Storm

“Well, I—”

“I just need to know what I’m wearing. If we’re going out, I can throw something on. But otherwise, are you good with shitty old leggings and my brother-in-law’s sweatshirt? It doesn’t scream sex appeal, but I can promise a good time once I’m naked.”

Holy shit. I choked on a blend of nerves and amusement. “Um … your brother-in-law?”

“My sister and her family visited a few weeks ago, and her husband left his hoodie at my place, so I called dibs. The guy ishuge.It’s like wearing a fuckin’ blanket.”

Her penchant for cursing and lack of filters tugged at the corners of my mouth, pulling it into a sad, nostalgic smile.

In a way, she reminded me of Luke.

“Ah, I gotcha,” was all I said, my voice soft and wistful, even if a little melancholy.

“Anyway, so, yeah, whatever you wanna do, I’m down. Just let me know, presentable or bridge troll, and I’m good.”

I snorted a laugh. “Bridge troll works for me.”

“You know, I had a feeling it might.”

“If you wanna run out now, I’m just about to lock up,” I said, looking across the street and lifting my eyes to her floor of the hotel. “I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ll be right out,” she said in a softer tone. “And, hey, Charlie?”

“Yeah?”

“Is it weird that I can’t wait to see you again when I just saw you a few hours ago?”

***

I was leaning against the stone pillar outside the cemetery gate when Stormy emerged from the hotel's front entrance. She was dressed just as she'd described—tight black leggings, an enormous black hooded sweatshirt, and black high-top Chucks—with her raven-colored hair gathered on top of her head in what seemed to be her signature style. Her eyes lit up at the sight of me, standing with my back to the stone and my arms crossed tightly over my chest, but she kept her gait purposely casual and controlled, like she didn't want to seem as excited as she felt.

She looked both ways before running across the street, dodging a bicyclist on his way past the cemetery.

“Hi,” she said, breathless. “Sorry it took me a few minutes to get down here. I had to help some old lady get into her room. I was gonna just leave her standing there, struggling with her key card, but, man, she started to cry and how the hell was I supposed to leave her like that? Felt like bad karma.”

“It's fine.” I shrugged as I turned to unlock the side gate.

“I mean, I probably could've just let her stand there, weeping, but I would've felt like an asshole.”

I snorted a laugh as I worked the key into the lock. “Abandoning a crying old lady in a creepy hallwayisan asshole move, I gotta agree.”

“Oh, that's nice to know.” Stormy bumped her shoulder against me. “How a guy would handle a crying old lady says a lot about his character.”

I held the gate open for her to walk inside as I said, “I take it, I passed the test?”

She met my eye as she grinned. “With flying colors.”

We both entered the cemetery grounds, and I locked the gate behind me. Stormy didn't take a step further as she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, sweeping her gaze over the moonlit headstones.

“You cold?” I asked, doubting it. It might’ve been the very end of October in New England, but her sweatshirt looked too heavy and warm for her to be shivering like it was the middle of February.

“No, not really,” she easily admitted. “I’m just wondering how you walk around here at night without shitting your pants. That’s all.”

I grunted a laugh as my palm found the small of her back. “Actually, this is where I feel safest,” I admitted as I led her along the path to the waiting truck in the parking lot. “When there’s nobody here but me, the ghosts, and the security guard.”

And even though I said it without any qualms, my nerves jolted at the mention of those ghosts. Or was it only one in particular?

Is it even a ghost at all?

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