Page 55 of Haunted Hearts
Will: I’m so fucking sorry.
Will: I need to talk to you. Answer the phone and you’ll never have to hear from me again. Promise.
Will: Goddamnit. Please, Lydia.
Iwake up to the sound of pounding on my door. At first, I think I must be dreaming it, like I’m caught somewhere between sleeping and waking, and my mind is going haywire. So I roll over, bury my face into the pillow.
But then it comes again.Bam.Bam bam bam.
This time, I jerk awake. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I stare groggily at the clock on the nightstand, willing the numbers to make sense. It’s two thirty in the morning. I’m not sure what woke me, but I lay awake, mind racing and tears soakingmy pillow, until almost two—so I know it had to have beensomething. I listen again. Someone’s pounding on the door.
Fear seizes my gut. Frantically, I swipe through my phone and pull up the Ring doorbell app. No way am I, a single woman home alone, going out there to answer that damn door without knowing who’s out there.
When the camera comes on the screen, my heart speeds up. Because there, right on my front step, is Will Holloway, looking raw and undone and as ruggedly sexy as ever. Pounding on my door. There’s something electric about him I can’t quite place—something in the way he carries himself, the broad span of his muscular shoulders. Or maybe it’s his deep blue eyes that somehow manage to sparkle despite the fuzzy camera graphics. I don’t know.
I run to the kitchen and grab a rolling pin. I don’t know what he’s here for. The tender man I thought I knew would never hurt me, but now… I’m not sure I ever knew Will as well as I thought I did. And it never hurts to play it safe. Still gripping my rolling pin, I stand on the inside of the door, trying to find my voice. I’m not stupid enough to just open the door when a man pounds.
“What do you need?”
The pounding stops, and I hear Will’s voice from the other side of the door. “Oh, thank god. I thought you’d never wake up. Lydia, I’ve got to talk to you. Please open the door.”
A harsh laugh escapes my chest. “Why should I? So you can break my heart a little more?”
“No. So I can look you in the eye and tell you what a complete fucking asshole I’ve been. That I’m crazy about you. That I’vebeencrazy about you from the minute you spilled that damn coffee all over me and stole my heart.”
I unlock the door. Open it. And there is Will, staring out at me from the most broken, sapphire eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. Just takes me in, hisgaze clinging to mine in the most disarming way possible. The electricity that radiates off him is absolutely intoxicating.
The corner of his perfect mouth turns up slightly. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey.”
I have no idea what to say. With the way he’s looking at me, I can barely think.
“I’m sorry.” Will rakes a callused hand through his hair. “You have no idea howfuckingsorry I am. And I know there’s nothing I can say that will fix it. I fucked up. You gave me your trust, and I broke it—and I get it if you want me to get the fuck out, so you never have to see me again. I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
Will pauses. The moonlight filters down through the brittle, bare branches of the trees, casting a silvery glow around us. The neighborhood is quiet. There’s no world in which his wild pounding didn’t wake anyone else up, but so far, no one’s stirring. It’s just me and him.
Will continues, and I swear I hear his voice crack. “But Lydia, I have to tell you something—even if you don’t forgive me—because you need to know. It’s important to me that you know.”
I swallow. No one’s ever looked at me the way Will is looking at me right now. “Know what?”
“That I will do whatever it takes. Be whatever you need. Give up whatever I have to. Because you’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for. You’re worth everything.”
He takes a step forward, closing the space between us. He looks down at me, runs a gentle thumb along my jawline. His chest is so close, so warm even in the bite of the autumn night air, I can feel his heart beating.
“Lydia.” His voice is soft, rich. And his eyes. Fuck. They’re like ocean waves, and he’s gazing at me so tenderly I can hardly breathe.
“Yeah?” My lips move, but I’m honestly not even sure if I’m making sound.
Will tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingers tangle in my loose hair, cupping the back of my head gently. “I’m done trying to fight it. I’m crazy, off-my-rocker, seeing-things madly in love with you.”
His lips skim my forehead, and he pulls back to look at me. He’s got this small, almost nervous smile going, but he doesn’t wait for me to speak. He presses the pad of his finger to my lips. “I had some help tonight. From someone who knows you really well. I’m going to give you two some time, okay? If you want to see me at some point, even years down the road, I’ll be here. And if not…” He runs a hand through his hair. “If not, that’s alright. I’ll respect it. Just love yourself for me, okay?”
All I can do is stare at him. My body’s all tingly, my heart’s racing, and I’m met with the overwhelming urge to chuck the rolling pin away and wrap my arms around his solid waist. Pull him close and bury my face in his chest. Breathe in his spicy, pine scent.
But Will just presses something into my hands, kisses the top of my head, and turns and walks back down the sidewalk. I watch him get into his pickup and pull away before I look down at what he just gave me. It’s a worn, faded copy of the twenty-first Nancy Drew book:The Secret in the Old Attic. I’d know it anywhere—it’s just like the one my mom and I used to read together all those years ago. I suck in my breath. Is this…?
It has the same frayed corners, the same half page ripped out in the back. TheMon the title is almost completely rubbed off, just like in the copy we used to read. Holy shit. How did Will know my mom and I used to read this book? And how the hell did he get his hands on it? And who the fuck was he talking?—
