Page 20 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
He gave her the softest, most reassuring smile, but it was so quick that if she blinked, she would’ve missed it. Without breaking eye contact, he shifted in his chair and leaned toward her. “Try it again.”
“Translating?” She searched his face, unsure what she was looking for.
He nodded. “But don’t close your eyes this time. Look at me.”
She couldfeelherself breathing too fast. Her cheeks were overheating, which meant her armpits were next, and what in the hell made her wear a sweatshirt in the summer? Her gaze dropped to her knees.
“Don’t look away. If you’re talking about me, you should focus on me. Again,” he persuaded.
Her heart rate accelerated as he delicately lifted her chin, winning her attention.
“Tell me again.”
She knew his eyes. Before that, she knew his voice. And now she thought she knew what to say. Familiar, calm purpose settled into her bones. She leaned in too, but only enough to meet him where he was.
“Your caution will be your undoing. You have a deep-seated fear of disappointing people that will only fester into resentment if you don’t do something about it. Running away and isolating yourself will only make things worse because that’s how you cope, but you don’t like who you become when you’re all alone, and if you don’t like yourself, you will lose hold of the shields you built.”
“That won’t happen.” His gaze flicked to her mouth andabruptly back up again—his restraint on display, banishing his thoughts.
The tension in his denial beckoned her nearer. She balled her hands into fists to keep herself from touching him. “The monsterswillget out.”
“What monsters?”
“The monsters in your dreams. Isawthem.”
Maverick’s sharp inhale caught her off guard. He jerked backward as if he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. “How did you know about that?”
She sat up straight, setting her shoulders back and lifting her chin. “Apologize for calling me a low-grade medium.”
“I’m sorry,” he said instantly, but the sincerity in his voice couldn’t be plainer. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Apology accepted.” She grinned, feeling splendid. “Are you okay to finish the interview? We could take a break?”
“No. No, let’s finish. I’ll count us down.” He shook his head, slightly clearing his throat and righting himself in the chair. “Three, two, one.” With a deep breath, Maverick effortlessly slid back into interviewer mode, as magnetic as ever. “As of this recording, Lucky, you’ve spent one night in Hennessee House.”
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
She hesitated, for show. “I don’t think there was another human here with me, no. Something is definitely amiss in Hennessee House.”
“Could you elaborate?”
“I think it’d be easy for someone to think their mind is playing tricks on them, but I have an exceptional memory and I trustmyself.” She recalled the night before—the orchard, the bath, the flower—in an animated style, speaking quickly but clearly and emphasizing with her hands. She’d practiced her delivery in the mirror.
He asked, “Were you afraid?”
“No. Almost nothing scares me.”
“Everyone is afraid of something,” he pressed. “Nothing disappoints you. You don’t get flustered. Now you’re telling me you’re fearless.”
“Unlike most people, I am exactly who I say I am.” Lucky shrugged. “Also, I said ‘almost nothing scares me,’ which to me, doesn’t equal fearless. I have limits.”
“But those limits don’t include haunted houses?”
She thought about her answer carefully, wanting to make sure she expressed her stance clearly for the show. “People get scared when they have a supernatural encounter because what they’re actually facing is their own limited view and mortality. They’re being forced to confront being wrong and sometimes, one of the worst things that can happen to them: they’ll die. I think that’s why people scream or go into shock during those moments—they don’t have the words to express all that existential dread. I’ve already faced those things. Dozens of times with my own eyes and through others.”
“Your gift.”
