Page 41 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
“Ah, gotcha.” He breathed into the silence between them. “You have beautiful eyes.”
Her eyebrow quirked in response. “Maverick. They’re brown.”
“And I rarely get to see them.”
Lucky never wore her glasses when they were alone for that reason. Even now, they were sitting on the desk. She didn’t know if he realized it, but every time they made eye contact without her glasses between them, he smiled. Every single time.
She sighed, feeling a growing softness inside of her that matched his tone. “Don’t try to feed me lines, okay? That doesn’t work on me.”
“You think I didn’t mean that?”
“I think if you meant it, you could do better,” she challenged.“I’ve already read you. I’ve seen you. I know you. All up here.” She tapped her temple as she recalled the reading. “That was a line—you’re testing the waters to see how shallow they are. You’re cautious, almost to a fault…” And she wasn’t.
His caution mixed with her impulsivity like oil and water. They both inherently knew it, but he wanted to bypass it anyway because of how deeply he believed in people—in them. He would until the very end.
“Oh.Oh no.” She pulled away from him, saying, “It won’t work out between us. I’m sorry.” In a matter of seconds, she was on her feet and nearly out the door.
“Wait, hold on—”
Lucky rounded the corner, following the voices she heard in the sitting room. She needed an out, a way to avoid having that conversation with Maverick because she wasn’t ready. As annoying as they were, she’d rather keep her stupid crush-like feelings forever than deal with the certainty of knowing their relationship would end with him regretting everything and her being alone again. He couldn’t ask her to talk about it in a room full of people.
“Lucky!” Rebel spotted her first. She was sitting on the couch next to someone. An obviously tall, dark-haired, and pale someone.
Xander Hennessee had finally arrived.
And Lucky looked right into his eyes.
14
Xander Hennessee read like a skeleton. Harsh, clean bone structure, empty eyes, and bared teeth. Exposed and cold save for a fragile, friendly warmth using his rib cage as a shield from a snowstorm. Only certain people turned that single flame into a raging fire. And he was searching for them. Always searching.
But he wasn’t always that way—Xander’s core had changed. He’d been stripped down to almost nothing by overwhelming grief and steadily rebuilt himself one bone at a time. He nurtured an unmatched resilience buoyed by a sentimental and loving interior. And he had an inquisitive and understanding disposition.
Lucky had been right before about the snowstorm and his grief. But he was healing by embracing it. She barely had time to breathe before accidentally making eye contact with Stephen, too.
Stephen carried a soft determination that he wielded like a weapon. A pushover who’d learned to stand his ground, but whose heart would always be in the right place. He’d been bornwith a strong desire for knowledge and was burdened by the rigidity of his beliefs. His greatest motivations in life were connections and family and creating art that would outlive him.
Horrific pain bloomed in the center of Lucky’s face as if she’d been punched by a professional boxer. She simultaneously gasped and closed her eyes. “I need my glasses!” She used the heels of her hands to press down on her eye sockets to counteract the building pressure.
It’d been literal years since she’d felt so much agony. She’d forgotten how cursed she truly was. The throbbing dull ache in her forehead and temples, her inflamed skin stretched too tight across her face, the fire behind the backs of her eyes and the searing pain between them—
“Here. Come with me.” Maverick’s insistent, hushed voice sounded close to her ear. A hand on her waist and another on her back gently turned her around until she felt his crisp linen shirt against her forearms as he held her to him. His presence enveloped her, slashing through the pain. She inhaled—the comforting scent of cocoa butter soothed her like a balm. “Let me put your glasses on,” he said. “Put your hands down.”
“My eyes,” she whimpered. “Are my eyes okay?”
“I don’t know. Let me see,” he coaxed.
She lowered her shaking hands.
“Oh—shit.”
“Is it bad? Is it both of them?” Burst blood vessels should’ve taken more than two back-to-back readings to happen. Judging by Maverick’s expression, they must’ve looked terrible, but at least they didn’t hurt. The rest of her head, however, hadn’t been so fortunate.
“Yeah. It’s both,” he said, caressing her cheek.
“Shit.” She held still while he helped her with her glasses. “My head hurts. I need to lie down. And I need an ice pack. Please.”
“Bring her here.” Xander’s stoic ice-king façade had melted into pure concern. Maverick didn’t let go so they escorted her together to the newly empty couch.
