Page 43 of Lake Hollow Curses

One thing after another.

I look at Grady. “Where is Wilder and Charlie right now?”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Remington James

Ididn’t have to be drunk to sleep lousy last night, all I needed was my resident ghost being a little terror. The lights in the bathroom, the weird scraping, all that and it felt like someone grabbed my legs a couple of times startling me awake. Throwing on a Romantic Ruin shirt I nabbed from Keenan, I leave my bedroom to find Droolius laying on the floor with Squiggles on his back.

The sight of them tickles me to no end. “I am deceased. Do not resuscitate me. Leave me on the floor because I can’t! This is the cutest thing ever!” When I crawl to him, his tail goes crazy, his doggo smile makes me want to grab my marker. I am intent on drawing him on my calf.

I’m heading back into the bedroom to get it, noticing what looks like scratch marks on the wall near the hall closet. I’ve never seen Droolius do that, when I kneel next to it. They looklike five nails dragged across the panel of wood. My stomach flips as I sit back quickly in fear.

Running my hand over the mark, I get the creepy crawlies. I press the panel and around it only to realize this is a secret hiding space. Don’t blame me for the deep dread at what might be inside. The lights led me to the diary, the kitchen window to the missing pages. Whatever this is, is bound to be shocking. I contemplate finding Wilder or Grady to open it with me, because I’m actually scared.

While I brush my teeth, I keep looking at that spot near the floor by the closet. I change into my outfit for the day, still glancing at it periodically. I even nudge it with my toe, but I can’t do it. I just can’t.

The lake is inviting looking today, under the clear blue sky. I make my way to the end of the dock, taking a deep breath while stretching my arms out wide. From the moment I stepped into the lake near the Funpark I’ve felt an affinity with the water. The scandal surrounding the lake has never kept me from it.

Back inside the cabin, I open the trunk pocketing the necklace I’m returning to the Kelleys today. It won’t be easy explaining how I have possession of it, but I’m sure they’ll be happy to have their family heirloom back where it rightfully belongs.

Sitting on my bed, I draw a picture of Droolius, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. “I’ll miss you. I promise that Wilder will be the best dog dad.” He paces outside the room.

I’ve wasted enough time.

The panel moves easily, opening about three inches, I wedge my hand inside to feel around. At first, I feel nothing but dust. I push my hand in more, shoved to the back, my fingertips hit a book. My pulse giddy ups. I hop up to grab something to help move it forward in the cubbyhole. Finding a letter opener, with more groping around I confirm it’s just this book.

This happens to be the cabin that people hid journals in. The leather-bound book is filled with different people’s handwriting as I shuffle the pages through my fingers. Not ready to read a word.

Putting it on the floor, I notice the cover has initials branded on it. WPL.

No chance I’m reading this without one of the guys. Not after hearing what it was all about. This could be a book full of confessions.

I place the journal on the counter of the kitchen deciding it’s a good day to hang out on the dock. With my marker, I sit with my feet dangling in the water. A picture of Squiggles gets drawn on my thigh, while I hum Romantic Ruin songs.

I hear the creak of the dock behind me with footsteps. Immediately I assume it’s Wilder. When I look over my shoulder, I’m shocked.

“Well, look at yo-” My voice is swallowed.

Because look at him. Walking towards me, without a bit of fear. Not bothered by the lake or being on the dock.

In fact, something is different.

I scramble to my feet; my marker rolls into the water. I try to smile through the spreading misgivings, it’s hard to keep from shaking.

Without any doubt, this man is unrecognizable, not the one I got to know.

I handed him the blueprint to manipulate me.

A panicked scream stays trapped inside my throat, because I can no longer deny that I’ve been lied to.

MyCharlie never existed.

Chapter Thirty

Charlie Gibson

Water gives life and takes it away.

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