Page 37 of Haunted Heart
He glances up toward Julia’s house. “I am really sorry about everything I did in Hell. I like girls—which, apparently you do, too—and I may have a bit too active of an imagination.”
“We’re in college, we’re supposed to be horny, right?”
He snorts and claps a hand over his mouth to smother his laughs, shaking his head in a way that leaves me wondering if he’s ashamed of me for saying it, or himself for laughing at it.
“I’d still like to hang out, if you want. Just as friends. Zero expectations now or in the future. But after all of that,” he waves vaguely at the ground and then back toward Dylan’s car, “I’ll understand if you’d rather not.”
“I guess we’ll see what happens.”
SIXTEEN
I feeleach creaking joint as my house settles again.
I feel the house more than my own body anymore, and it’s been so long since I’ve broken anything… I’d forgotten how it takes from my soul every time I take from it.
Hell weakened me. Killing that boy only made it worse.
But there is no rest for the wicked, as they say.
I pull my cellar doors closed, leaving a piece of myself behind to keep the broken boards held tight together.
If it snaps, I’ll know.
Rising through the floor takes more effort than it should.
Genevieve’s friend isn’t the only one who’s soul weary. I could sink into the bones of this house and let the joists or rafters be the coffin I wasn’t given.
I wonder if she’d let me.
I’ve haunted her, I’ve given her so many reasons to leave, and yet…
I look at the rug at the base of the stairs and the vase of flowers that have only just begun to wilt.
She’s here in little places… Fingerprints in disturbed dust, a piece of red hair caught in a hinge, the windows scrubbed clean to let the outside world—her world—in to mine.
She’s made her presence known in big ways too. The piano she insists on playing, despite it needing to be tuned, is fully dusted, a new cushion on its bench. She cleaned the kitchen cupboards last week and brought home dishes in patterns that didn’t match and sizes that barely stack.
This house is hers as much as it is mine.
I don’t want to give into this weariness. I want her.
I want to keep her, and wanting makes it easier to go on.
“Genevieve Delany Humphries.”
I look up to find one of my grandmothers standing in front of their house, broom in hand, a scowl on her lips.
“I think you have some explaining to do.” She glances at Jonas and then back to me.
“I definitely do,” I say. “Gran, this is my friend Jonas. Jonas, this is my Grandmother Collette.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Jonas,” she tips her head toward the front door, “the couch is already made up for you.”
He looks at me and then back to her. “Th-thank you.”
“There’s a protection spell on the pillow case, so you shouldn’t have nightmares,” she comments as he goes.
He gives me one last dazed look before disappearing, and my grandmother turns her attention fully to me. “Where is The Book?”
