Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

"Dahlia!" I pounded on the wall and then put my shoulder into it. It still didn't fucking budge.

My heart slammed in time with each slap of my hand. "Are you all right in there?"

Finally, I heard her voice.

"I'm fine." It was quieter. Not the excited voice from before.

"Are you sure?" I flicked the latch again and nothing. Frustration lit me up and I dug my fingers into the crevices on either side of the doorway. My nails ripped, but it didn't matter.

I just needed to get to her.

I thudded my head against the wood. "I can't believe I let you go in there."

Suddenly, the doorway slid open. I shoved it wide until the hinges groaned with stress. She stood on the other side with a book clutched to her chest."I'm okay."

I rushed forward and cupped her face, pushing her hair back. "Are you sure?" I crushed her to me with an arm around her shoulders and the other at her waist, as I glanced down into the room. It was eerily silent from the last time I'd been inside.

No flying books.

No angry wind.

Just beams of sunshine from the stained-glass ceiling creating a kaleidoscope of colors across the floor and the dark bookcases. Dust motes rolled through the shafts of light, but otherwise, it was achingly still.

Dahlia's peach and honey scent filled my head and eased my racing heart.

She didn't hug me back, which finally knocked some sense into me. "Hey." I stepped back from her and cupped her face again. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"What?" She seemed to be in a trance.Or at least distracted as fuck, because I didn't want to think about trances and ghosts or I'd freak out.

"Are you okay?" I repeated. The edges of the room fuzzed as my adrenaline spiked again. She sure as hell didn't seem okay. "What happened?"

"I…" Finally, she seemed to snap out of it and met my gaze. "Harriette talked to me."

I must not have heard her right.

"Through a book again."

" Again? How?" I was lost, but beyond that, I was more worried she'd had an episode. She was far too attached to the story of Harriette. Maybe even more than she was obsessed with the house.

She hugged a soft leather-bound book against her chest. "It was strange and... wow."

"She talked? Let's get you out of here first. Then you can tell me."

She shook her head. "Not like that. It was so weird. She kept showing me books on the bookcase to pull out."

I frowned.

"I know it sounds nuts, but the last time I was in here, she showed me a journal to take with me. This time, she kept flipping pages to talk to me." Her eyes filled. "Her words were…"

Tears always took me out and no matter how many fights we'd had, there had never been tears. Now? I'd give anything to make them stop, but first, I wanted her out of here. I tried to draw her through the doorway, but she wouldn't be dissuaded.

"She had such a sad life. So many miscarriages."

I smoothed her hair back, trying to find a kernel of patience. "It happened a lot back then. They didn't have doctors who knew what they were doing, like we do now."

She sniffled and one fat tear trailed down her cheek. "No—I mean, yes, that was part of it, but not for her. I think something was wrong with her. She only managed to carry one baby, and it was stillborn." She looked back over her shoulder. "Probably why there's a single cradle in that window." She turned back to me with her eyes brimming with more tears. "Every word was so sad. And she kept pushing her husband away because she was so lost in her grief."

I thumbed away her tears. "You can tell me all about it, but I have to get you out of here."

She nodded and covered my hand. "Yeah."

I looked down at the book. "Are you sure you want to take that?"

"I need to read it. It's her last journal."

I sighed. "I don't know if you should, if it's making you this upset."

"I think it's just the room. I think I'm feeling what she was feeling in there, if that makes sense."

It did not, but I just wanted her out of there. And I was going to seal off this damn room. I tucked her under my arm and led her back into the tunnel. I was about to close the doorway when she stopped me.

"Don't close her in again."

Everything in me froze, but I couldn't deny her anything right there. "Okay." Instead of going back to thestaircase exit, I turned us into the tunnel to the tower room.

I didn't want to bring her around people just yet. She seemed shaky and out of sorts.

I slid my hand down to clasp hers and she held on tight.

When I got to the tower room doorway, I flicked open the latch and it swung forward.

She frowned. "What are we doing in here?"

"I just need a second with you."

She nodded. "Okay."

I'd brought up a couch to flop in there with the cat before the big construction started. A pile of blankets was crumpled in the corner of the leather love seat.

"For Gizmo?"

I shrugged. "We like to watch movies at night."

"You're a softie, Nolan Devereaux."

I bared my teeth at her. "Lies."

She gave a watery laugh as we sat down, but she didn't let go of my hand or the book. In fact, she stacked my hand on top of the book in her lap and cupped my hand with both of hers. "Harriette was sad."

"Yeah, you mentioned that."

"Not the usual sad. Like the kind that overwhelms and locks everyone out."

I knew a thing or two about that. Mine was more anger, but maybe there was a lot more sadness inside me than I wanted to own up to.

"Then she told me something."

"From the books?"

"I didn't get it at first. I still don't, but then again, when it comes to us, I shouldn't be surprised. Why would anything be easy? Since the first day I met you, we have been so very chaotic."

"I wasn't the one who vandalized a truck, Hellcat."

"Miscommunication."

"If that's what you want to call it."

She huffed out a half laugh. "Jumping to conclusions, more like. We both do that a lot." She squeezed my hand.

"What does that have to do with Harriette?"

"She wanted me to know something, and she wasn't letting me out of that room until I figured it out."

I frowned and turned my knees toward her. It seemed a lot more involved than just a sad story of a woman from over a century ago. "What is it?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm pregnant."

The room tilted slightly and the sunlight streaming through the tower room sparkled. All sound went to an echo that seemed so very far away.

"Nolan?"

I stood and paced away from her, then I came back. "A ghost told you that you're pregnant?"

She held the book close to her middle. "I know it sounds crazy."

"Oh, it's a bit more than crazy." I raked my fingers through my hair and paced to the plastic-wrapped windows then I returned to her. "A baby."

"I'm late. I didn't even realize it. Things have been so busy with Shelby being sick and then all the things for this house and our usual summer business." She set the book onto the cushion beside her and stood. "I don't expect you?—"

I whirled around. "You don't expect me... What?"

The anger that bloomed inside my chest shocked me.

"I know we aren't...a thing. I don't expect you to?—"

"Don't expect me to what?"

"Look, I know we just kind of did the hook up thing. You don't have to worry about me. I'll figure it out and maybe we can split the cost. I know you aren't really interested in anything emotional. You made that abundantly clear."

"Split the..." I stalked over to her. "I'm not going anywhere."

She blinked up at me. "Well, I appreciate that. And if you want to be in the baby's life, I'll absolutely be on board with that."

Panic clawed at my chest. Not just a baby, but Dahlia's baby. My baby.

"I have to take a test, of course. Pretty sure this is the first time anyone has been smacked upside the back of the head by a ghost to tell them they're pregnant." She laughed, but it was a strangled, nervous sound. "I can't believe I didn't even pay attention."

She assumed I wouldn't want anything to do with her.

I bent at the waist and focused on the striations in the wood floor. A baby.

"Nolan?"

I straightened up. "Marry me."

"What?" Her huge eyes widened as she paled.

"Marry me." I crossed to her and took her hands. "I know I'm a bad bet. Everyone knows I'm a bad fucking bet but marry me, anyway."

"I'm not marrying you."

The quick stab of pain sideswiped me.

She pulled her hands from mine. "What, because I'm pregnant? Just because you live in a Victorian house doesn't mean we're living in the dark ages, my guy. Hell, no."

"Not just because of that."

She lifted her chin. "I'm only doing the marriage thing once and it has to be because of love. This baby will be loved, regardless if you want to be in their life, but you and me?" She shook her head. "Every time I tried to get close to you, there was a wall as tall as this mansion. I deserve better than that."

She did deserve better than me in every way.

But I was done running away from everyone and everything. There were roots here in this house, in the town, and with what was left of my family. Now this?

I didn't want to run.

This woman might be carrying my baby, but nothing had felt right since I'd shoved her away that last time. The baby was only one part of her, and I had the chance to show up. To prove to someone that I could be depended on.

"You're right. You deserve miles better."

Her mouth dropped open, then shut. She swallowed and nodded slowly. "Right. Then we're in agreement."

"Nope."

"What do you mean, nope?"

"You deserve better, so I'll be better." I crowded her back toward the window.

She kept backing up. "That's not what I meant."

"I know, but I'm not giving you up and I'm not giving up on that baby." I cupped her face. "You are the most maddening, incredible, stubborn as fuck, stupendous, irritating woman I've ever met."

"You don't have a choice here." Her hands remained locked at her sides. She didn't touch me.

"Let me prove it, Hellcat." I lowered my mouth to hers. "Give me a chance to show you."

"What, with sex? We don't have any problem with the sex part, Nolan. At least the one-sided kind. But you don't share with me there, either."

"You're right. Because under these clothes, what I see is a monster." I dragged in a slow breath. I had to share something, or I'd lose her. "I used to be an artist. It was the only thing that I could focus on to get me out of the pit that was my life. My dad was a junkie, and my mom was...addicted to him . He was her drug."

Her eyes softened and she touched my sides. "Why does that make you a monster? You got out. You were brave enough to do something with your life."

I swallowed down the bile that rose up. I wasn't brave. I'd been a coward every damn day. "I ran. I sold out. The minute I got the least bit of notoriety, I sold my fucking soul."

She frowned. "Being a starving artist is only romantic in books. So what if you got paid for your artwork? I get paid to do my version of art. Does that make me a monster too?"

"You don't understand. I sold out and worked on commission."

"So? That's what all artists do if they can manage it."

Was she being deliberately obtuse? God, this woman was so maddening.

She pushed me back. "That sounds like shit you need to figure out with a therapist, Nolan."

"I stopped caring. I stopped getting inspired. And I got burned for it. Literally." I flipped off my shirt.

She didn't look at my chest, just kept her gaze on mine. "You had a terrible accident."

"I deserved it!"

Dahlia folded her arms and looked me over. "You deserved to be cut open? You deserved those... what? Skin grafts?" She stepped toward me and lifted a hand to my scar on my cheek and trailed her fingers down my neck to the jagged line that went down to where I'd been opened up with the sheet metal.

I was practically vibrating with the pain of her soft touch. "I almost died. And no one would have known because I'd pushed everyone away. I don't want to do that anymore. I won't be like my father. I won't abandon my kid. And I won't abandon you."

"Comes back to the baby." She let her hand fall.

"The baby is only part of it. This house is part of it. The damn cat is part of it. But it all comes back to you, Dahlia. You're the one thing that makes it all come together."

Her eyes filled. "And what if I'm not pregnant? What if I'm just late because of stress?"

I drew her hand back onto my naked chest and covered it. "I want you . I don't know much about love, but when you're not around, I feel like something is missing. When I think about you, there's a spark of something inside of me I didn't know was possible."

"I don't know, Nolan."

"Just give me a chance. That's all I ask."

She nodded. "Let's take it one step at a time. First up is a pregnancy test."

"One step at a time sounds good to me."

She was still frowning when she lifted her hand from me.

I just had to make sure I was worthy of giving me a chance.

Everything that mattered was on the line. Everything.