Page 37 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
“I don’t know. I’ve never been able to describe it.”
“Could you try? For me?”
“I don’t know if I even have the words for it. All I know is I needed to listen to it. For a long time, I couldn’t go to sleep without replaying my favorite episodes. Something about hearing your stories and your voice told my brain,It’s okay. You can rest now. I’ll be here when you wake up.” She opened her eyes, ready to die from embarrassment. “Ew, sorry, that doesn’t even make sense. Please forget I said that.”
“Why would I do that? It made perfect sense to me.”
“It did?” She stared at the staircase.
“Yeah. It’s probably the greatest compliment anyone has ever given me about my work.” He paused. “I’ve never told anyone this either, but I think I’d like to write a novel.”
More silence and breathing and then, “I think I’d love to read it. If you’d let me,” she said, feeling so raw and exposed it made her chest ache.
Thinking of his podcast reminded her how bad things used to be. Living in a college apartment with two girls who relentlessly ostracized her had been hell. She walked on eggshells, kept to herself, and developed a severe case of anxiety. She literally needed his podcast, his voice, to help her sleep at night because she spent her days so wound up.
Maverick had no idea how much he’d helped her and was still helping her. So far almost every time Hennessee House shared something with Lucky he’d been there too, unintentionally splitting her focus or guiding her away. Making a habit of relying on him instead of herself to make safe choices seemed like a bad idea.
Besides, Lucky wasn’t used to needing other people anymore. She didn’t want to need it.
“I’m sorry but I have to hang up now.”
“Lucky, wait, no—”
“I’m sorry! Don’t call me back until morning.” She wanted to experience whatever Hennessee had in store for her with a clear mind—to comply or resist of her own volition. “I’ll see you at sunrise. I promise.”
She took several deep breaths and began walking up the stairs. Alone.
The passage didn’t have built-in lights to guide her. Dust had settled on every surface. “This is fine. This is good,” she whispered, carefully avoiding years-old spiderwebs and dead bugs. “There could be rats instead. Or jumping spiders. Oh god, why did I think of that?” Peppermint surrounded her every step of the way, easing her queasiness, but not erasing it. Just enough left to keep her steady and focused. As long as she felt that, she’d steer clear of true recklessness.
The red door appeared almost suddenly, burning in the near darkness. Her hand shook until it wrapped around the shockingly warm doorknob, which twisted with ease.
“Hello?” Lucky stepped across the threshold and found nothing but an empty attic. It was completely barren and swept clean save for one black fountain pen laid in front of a wall. She only spotted the pen because moonlight streamed in from the circular stained-glass window directly onto it.
She paused, giving herself a moment to check in. Sweating, sore legs, rapid breathing, stomach roiling…nerves steady. No indicators of fear response. Good. She reached for the pen—it rolled closer to the wall and flipped upright as if pointing.
“All righty then.” She almost laughed but sobered up whenshe noticed the writing on the wall. There were names,severalof them in a list. She held her light over each one to give the camera time to record it. At the bottom, one name had beencarvedinto the wood with short, slanted lines.
XANDER
13
Stephen finished inspecting the narrow staircase for the third time, entering the attic with a bewildered, “I cannot believe this has been here the whole time.”
“My guess is the others used the ladder. Like any normal person would.” Georgia filmed the wall with much steadier hands than Lucky used the night before. “Brian said he planned to lock himself in the suite on night three. Hennessee must have lured him up here somehow because by morning, he didn’t want anything to do with us. Not even a final interview.”
Stephen said, “We’ll need to compare handwriting samples before jumping to conclusions.”
“I didn’tjump.” Georgia whirled around. “You heard what she said. The goal was clearly to get her up here by any means necessary,whichincluded giving her access to a secret passageway because itknewshe’d willingly go for it.”
No objections to that. Hennessee had Lucky’s number and they all knew it.
“Whatever happened after that must’ve been what scared Brian off for good.” Georgia turned her laser-focused gaze on Lucky. “Why didn’t you write your name?”
“It seemed optional,” she lied. Frankly, she deserved an award for winning against her impulsiveness, especially while paired with Hennessee’s influence. The second she picked up the pen, the compulsion to write her name slammed into her like a sledgehammer. Resisting the orchard had primed her for that moment—she’d forcefully saidnoand walked back downstairs. “Nothing happened after I decided not to. I went back to my room and slept.”
“What are you thinking, Mav?” Stephen asked.
Maverick opened his mouth to speak but ended up pressing his lips together and shaking his head. He’d fallen into contemplative near silence from the moment she’d shown him the hidden staircase. Everything had been normal up to that point and then he changed, visibly shaken up. He even refused to let Rebel join them in the attic, banishing her to the backyard with Chase.
