Page 62 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
She’d read through it ten times even though she’d memorized it after the first. “Right. Got it.”
“The most important thing is to follow Rebel’s lead. Georgia will keep you both on track.”
“Wait, where will you be?”
“Georgia and I have to wear multiple hats since we’re running this thing with a skeleton crew,” he said. “I’ll be scouting a second location that we got a lead on: a perfectly ordinary, abandoned office building. There aren’t any reports of supernatural activity, but it supposedly has a Backrooms feel. We agreed it would look good in the show, and I want to personally make sure it’s safe for Rebel to be there. Tomorrow, we’ll meet up for dinner before heading back to the park after closing.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nodded. The Backrooms was an internet urban legend about a seemingly infinite maze outside of reality. “Got that too.”
“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”
“I’m neither of those things.”
Maverick rubbed his face, grumbling as he looked out the window.
Lucky snickered. “Sorry. I’m working on the wholeaccepting your complimentsthing. Be patient with me.”
“That I can do.” He moved closer to her and frowned. “I didn’t notice this before.” His thumb traced the long, jagged scar on her arm. He didn’t ask.
She chose to answer the question in his eyes anyway. “I shredded my arm on barbwire while running from security guards trying to detain me for trespassing.”
“I’d ask why, but I don’t know if I can handle it.” His fingers passed her wrist and lingered near her palm.
“Investigating a lead. It all started with an allegedly telekinetic man and his goat and ended with a trip to the hospital for stitches and a tetanus shot.”
“The goat is the wildest part of that story, isn’t it?” He chuckled, unsurprised. “All that but no ghosts, huh? I was waiting for you to change your mind about coming here, right up until we boarded the plane.”
Penny Place was a bona fide hoax. Rooted in the false myth of a tragedy, the urban legend belonged to the town. Mostly tested by teenagers at night with nothing better to do.
“There shouldn’t be ghosts at the park. Besides, wanting to help Rebel outweighed my reservations.” She shrugged, but then eyed him seriously. “But if they are there, please understand that Iwillflee for my life. If we’re alone, I’ll grab Rebel and run, otherwise don’t expect me to stick around.”
“It’s that serious?”
“Incredibly.” She was always down for a supernatural adventure but could run faster than Jurnee Smollett did inLovecraft Countryaway from those monsters when she needed to. That scene had made her proud because it showed people how it was done. No tripping and falling and breaking an ankle—just pure purpose and an unbreakable will to stay alive.
“Why?”
“Because it is. It won’t make sense if I try to explain it.” Lucky leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She tilted her head upward until her face was in the crook of his neck and inhaled.
“Come here.” And just like that, she was in his arms again.Her new favorite place to be. He leaned back against the wall, breathing deep and even as if he were about to fall asleep. She faced the window, her legs across his lap. “Tell me anyway,” he said. His lips brushed against her forehead.
“Because they come from humans. I can read them.” She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut.
“And that’s bad?”
Might as well tell him all of it. “Ghosts are vessels for strong emotions anchored by unfinished business, but their cores are gone. That’s what I read. That’s what I take into me—copies of who people are. Ghosts don’t hold on to who they were. I can’t even describe what they feel like instead. I—”
He shifted slightly, pulling back until they faced each other. Him gazing down at her. Her looking up at him, framed by the clear night sky. “The words are there. I’ve seen you do it. The way you translate your impressions feels like a dream to me. I can almost imagine the storyline. How lives will play out, the choices being made, the way it all connects together.”
“But I’m so bad at it.”
“You’re not, I promise. There’s an undeniable art to your impressions, Lucky. Concentrate on the feeling and paint me a picture. Give it shape. Tell me its story.”
“It’s like…” Her gaze shifted beyond him. The answer gently came into focus. “Imagine space.”
“Okay,” he encouraged.
“There are all these beautiful stars exhibited in a perfect filing system.” She smiled but it didn’t last. “Then comes this black hole. It can’t touch the stars. It doesn’t even warp around them or bend their light. But when I try to touch it, I can feel something desperate to pull me in. It wants me inside of it.
