Page 19 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
She needed to read him. Soon.
Reluctantly, she said, “I used to be a nanny.”
“When?”
“During college. And after.”
“Stephen said you never had a job before.”
“I said, ‘according to my résumé.’ I never confirmed that. They hired me to be a storyteller. So, I made one up about myself.”
“Right.” His disappointment lanced through her, hot then cold.
“I really wanted this job and being a nanny isn’t relevant work experience,” she said quickly, eager to explain. “People see ‘live-in nanny’ and automatically reject. It’s not my fault society doesn’t value childcare.”
His eyes softened. “How long were you a nanny?”
“Six years, and I was damn good at it.”
He nodded, considering her answer. “Why the career change, then?”
“Because this is where I want to be.” With a deep breath, she took off her glasses and looked at him. “This is what I’m meant to be doing with my life.”
8
Maverick had a busy interior life. He was extremely guarded, and control and caution calmed him. He was driven by a type of raw, authentic honesty Lucky didn’t come across often. Desires mired by awareness. Darkness restrained by accountability. Neither taking the lead in favor of bargained coexistence. The empathy she’d sensed in him well before they met felt livelier, as if it routinely and frequently renewed itself. A constant work in progress.
“I was right about you,” Lucky whispered, feeling instant relief.
Now that she’d read him, the surface feelings that had transferred from him and into her faded away. A startling surprise, seeing as how she hadn’t even noticedsomeof them in the first place. She’d thought her flustered and embarrassed missteps all belonged to her, but no. That morning it was him too.
Maverick was attracted to herandsuccessfully hiding it.
“Right about what?” He smiled. “What did you see?”
“Well.” Lucky hadn’t tried to translate her readings in years.There were words, yes, but they also came to her as concepts with images attached to provide context. If she weren’t careful, what made sense in her head would break down into candor-flavored word salad coming out of her mouth.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes to concentrate, hoped for the best, and began, “Through your work, you aim to help people find their truths, just like you were able to. You search for the truth not because you’re scared you’ll die, but because youknowyou will. Being supportive is important to you—you want to do as much as you can for everyone while you still have time—but you’ll only allow certain people to return the favor.”
When she opened her eyes, Maverick stared at her with clear skepticism. “Their…truths?”
Heart in her throat, she tried to backtrack immediately. “I mean, that’s just what I think. Half the time what I read doesn’t make sense outside of my head, so my translations are off from time to time. I’m sorry.”
His brow furrowed. “Why are you apologizing?”
“Because it didn’t make sense?”
“Did I say that?”
“Your face did.”
He noticeably glanced at the camera. “Honestly, you sounded like a psychic. A low-grade medium, at best. Nothing you said felt like it was specifically about me. Am I allowed to ask questions?”
Low-grade mediumstabbed at her pride like a rusty serrated knife—and made her feel like she had something to prove. She nodded.
“Why did you close your eyes? It’s interesting that you have to look at me to perform the reading but not to relay it.”
“Oh, that part isn’t required.” She fidgeted and added quietly, “I was nervous.”
