Chapter 11

“Oh my god.” Georgia paced in a tight circle. “Oh my god. How did you not see that? How did you not feel it? Oh my god.”

“Ehh, they seemed a little preoccupied,” Chase said conversationally.

Lucky glanced at Maverick, who stood with his arms crossed while staring at the playback. Stephen replayed it again as if they all hadn’t seen the window move the first four times.

“Does it mean something?” Rebel asked. Being in a demonstrably supernatural house didn’t seem to faze her.

“It means the house woke up.” Maverick covered his mouth with his fist.

Lucky said, “That’s so interesting. Are you all operating under the belief that the house sleeps during the day? Maverick said it was dormant-reactive—I’ve never heard of that before.”

“Xander explained that it’s closer to being in power-save mode,” Stephen said. “Daytime activity is exclusively reactionary. Something, usually intense emotions, triggers it to respond and then it quiets back down.”

Rebel stared at the footage for a moment before side-eyeing Lucky. She then squeezed closer to her dad, reaching up to hold his hand. “What triggered it to open the window?”

“Uh, we don’t know yet,” Maverick said, and Georgia coughed. “But you don’t have to stay. I’ll take you home the second you give me the word. It’s up to you, sweetie.”

“Mmm…I want to stay for now.” Rebel fidgeted. “The house is nice. It wants us to be nice too.”

What a strange thing for Shortcake to say. Lucky exchanged a concerned look with Maverick, who shook his head slightly, eyes tightening. A move she recognized from her nanny days. She’d leave it to him. Some things were better for parents to handle.

Maverick asked, “Did you get the pancake ingredients at the store?”

“And we got sprinkles too!” Rebel pulled her dad to the kitchen, bursting the bubble of the meeting.

Voice lowered, Georgia said, “You need to tell Xander about this. He’ll want to know.”

Stephen nodded, exhaling irritation.

Chase asked Lucky, “Are you really okay?”

“Totally fine.” She regarded him for a moment—he was wearing a dark gold long-sleeve top. “That’s a lovely shirt. The color looks fantastic on you.”

Georgia said, “You do understand that this is definitive proof that the house is targeting you, right? I sincerely hope you can handle what comes next because it’s going to try to take you out.”

“I appreciate your concern but I’m not leaving. So.”

“You say that now, but no one makes it past the third night for a reason.”

“Which is?”

Georgia hesitated, glancing at Stephen, who had nothing to say.

Lucky sighed theatrically. “Look, if you’re not going to tell me, stop bringing it up. Whatever is gonna happen, is gonna happen and I’ll deal. But I’m not leaving.” She turned on her heel, pleated skirt twirling as she walked away to join Maverick and Rebel.

Behind her, Georgia muttered, “Famous last words.”

Lucky volunteered to put the groceries away while Maverick and Rebel began cooking. The refrigerator had been stocked with the foods she requested during her onboarding. Basic items like bread, cheese, milk, eggs, and tofu. Pasta, cereal, and ramen had been stored in the pantry and there was also a full spice rack. She’d been on her own awhile and yet had never quite mastered the art of feeding herself. A compulsive snacker by nature, she often didn’t realize she needed to eat something besides Hot Cheetos until she was starving, and by that point her food had to be cooked as quickly as possible.

Rebel must have been in charge of the grocery trip. The team had purchased juice boxes, chips, fruit snacks, oatmeal cookies, and maple syrup. Kind of adorable the way they all doted on her, even after her stunt yesterday.

Growing up, if she’d done anything like that…she shook her head to clear the memories away. She didn’t get to choose her parents. They didn’t get handbooks on how to be perfect caregivers. They gave her what they could, and she appreciated them for it, but that was as far as their relationship went these days.

Lucky watched as Georgia sidled up beside Maverick, asking, “Ooh, can I have a triangle pancake?”

“Why a triangle?”

“Seemed like it would be difficult. Gotta keep you on your toes, Super Dad.”

Maverick scoffed and continued cooking. “Any other special requests?”

Stephen and Chase had already settled in at the dining room table, sharing the laptop between them. They both shook their heads, barely sparing him a glance.

About twenty minutes later, Maverick finished making the heart-shaped pancakes, which were apparently Rebel’s favorite, and placed one single triangle pancake onto Georgia’s plate.

“Now, that’s just rude. Show-off—you gotta be kidding me. Why does this taste so good?”

“Secret daddy recipe,” Rebel said, happily drenching her pancakes in syrup. Maverick settled into the seat next to her.

“Lucky,” Stephen began. “We were hoping we could talk about your interview yesterday.”

All eyes were on her. Just as she’d planned. “What about it?”

“You made a fairly interesting claim regarding having ESP. I’d love to hear more.”

“Not a claim,” she clarified, smiling. “Not a party trick. Not a hoax.” After thorough experimentation and research, she’d decided her personal flavor of ESP was a mixture of the following abilities:

Advanced explicit memory—her complex storage system of information

Eidetic memory—total recall of every first impression she’d read

Mild synesthesia—some cores and intentions had a smell

Temporary empathic absorption—short-term internalization of outside emotions

Intuitive body language and patterned behavior recognition

And a…little something extra. She was still working on defining what enabled her to access someone’s primary nature, as well as the magnetic compulsion to read them.

“My apologies.” For a split second, Stephen’s gaze twinkled briefly with amusement. He smothered it quickly. Interesting. “What I meant to say was you demonstrated your ability on Maverick, which he confirmed to be accurate. However there was a”—he paused—“discrepancy in how he reported it happening versus what was filmed.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“That’s what we want to know,” Georgia said, thankfully jumping in. Lucky appreciated the way she always cut straight to the heart of things. “Maverick made it seem like it was a once-in-a-lifetime, magical experience but it looked boring as shit. You two were just talking. There was more chemistry in the footage from this morning.”

Chase added, “We’d like it if you could demonstrate reading one of us with everyone in the room. For comparison.”

While Stephen was high drama, Georgia was as blunt as a court transcript. Chase seemed to ride somewhere in the middle, balancing them both out. Lucky exchanged a look with Maverick, who said, “Only if you’re up for it. You don’t have to.”

And he was the one who made sure everyone was comfortable. Safe.

Rebel asked, “Can you read me too?”

Lucky smiled. “I already did. When I first met you.”

“Oh.” Rebel pouted a little. “I didn’t feel anything.”

“Because you’re not supposed to.”

“What did you see?”

“Well, you…are a little troublemaker.”

“No, I’m not.” Rebel giggled.

“You’re going to give your dad a lot of gray hairs,” she teased.

“Noooo,” she giggle-whined. “Tell me good stuff.”

Lucky hesitated, unintentionally looking to Maverick for permission to translate for Rebel. He nodded. She didn’t need to remove her glasses to recall the reading but did it anyway for the drama. They were recording after all. She also wanted to try the technique Maverick encouraged her to use again.

“Look at me, please,” she said while focusing on Rebel’s face. Everything behind her instantly transformed into an impressionist painting, a blur of softening colors and shapes. “You possess a unique point of view. It will not age even as you do, but you will grow together. You’ll always see the world in a way that most won’t because they’ve forgotten how. They’re not going to like that you can do what they cannot so they will try to take it from you—in any way they can. Don’t let them break you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rebel agreed, eyes wide.

“And you’re an artist. You haven’t found it yet, but the medium you’re most drawn to won’t be a natural talent. You’ll have to work hard to master it even if it scares you, and it will sometimes.” Lucky inhaled, squeezing her eyes shut as the reading slotted back into its place within her memory palace. Glasses on, she blinked several times to clear her vision…only to see the entire table staring at her. Stephen was even recording on his phone.

“Oh my god,” Georgia breathed, before turning to Maverick. “You weren’t kidding.”

“What? That’s what I read—the gist of it, anyway.”

Stephen asked, “Did you know your voice changes when you do that?”

“Um, no? Changes how?” Stephen played his video, but she didn’t understand what he’d meant. “What are you talking about? I always sound like that.”

“That’s not how it sounded, though.” Georgia pointed to the screen. “This sounds normal. You didn’t.”

Lucky swallowed hard. Unease pressed against her spine like she was being backed into a spiked corner. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sorry,” Maverick said immediately, flashing warning looks across the table with ease. “It’s not a big deal. Thank you for demonstrating, Lucky. We appreciate you.”

“Would you be willing to do it once more?” Stephen asked. “Since you admitted to already reading Rebel, it might be a good idea to capture the entire process, beginning to end.”

“I’d rather not.” No one was going to experiment on her. No one was going to pressure her to do readings. She did them on her terms only. “I’m not a party trick,” she repeated, tone firm as stone.

A low groan rolled through the ceiling overhead, spreading out and down the walls of the dining room.

“That better be the fucking pipes,” Georgia angrily whispered.

Lucky stood up, grabbing her plate. “Thank you for breakfast, Maverick. Excuse me.” She hurried away from the table, dashing through the kitchen and out to the backyard, not stopping until she stood on a dirt path between two orange trees, breathing in and out, trying to calm down. It took thirty seconds longer than it should’ve for her to realize she’d made it to the orchard.

She spun in a circle looking around—she didn’t even have shoes on. “Shit.” Cold mud seeped through her thin socks and in between her toes. “Calm down, calm down,” she commanded. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. “Walk yourself through it.”

She remembered standing up. Excusing herself. Picking up her plate…and now she was outside. Half-empty plate and all.

How did it pull her outside? Every second of every day she’d felt the tug of the orchard but had compartmentalized it to measure the duration of her resistance. It must’ve had enough of her doing that and found another way in.

Was the orchard separate from the house? Or did Hennessee want her out here? She sniffed the air—grass, dirt, flowers, citrus, sweet-smelling fruits, and the faintest notes of peppermint. It was fading fast as if it were running away from her.

“Lucky, hey.” Maverick hustled toward her, breathing as if he’d been running. “There you are. Are you okay?”

“I don’t…know.” She hoped she didn’t look as bewildered as she felt. “But I think I’m going to stay? Out here? And do stuff?”

“Why are you barefoot?”

“I don’t know. Yet.”

Maverick sighed, then pressed his lips into a firm line. “What kind of stuff?”

“Gardening? Trimming bushes, I don’t know—oh, pet house! I’m going to build a pet house,” she said confidently. “There’s a cat somewhere. That’s what’s in the box. Cat supplies courtesy of Xander.”

“Are you going to build it right here?” he asked calmly.

“No?”

“Okay, how about we set you up near the gazebo, then?”

“Well, I—”

“Distance doesn’t make a difference,” he said, gently taking her plate from her. “Let me guess: You got upset and don’t remember walking out here?”

Her reading and translation had gone so well with Maverick, and yet she still landed right back in the dark place she’d shaken loose after college. She thought she’d be able to handle being treated like a shiny new toy, but no. The second they started interrogating her, she’d felt cornered again, rapidly losing control of the situation. She wanted people to believe her without forgetting she was still a person with feelings.

Lucky eyed him, wary. “How did you know that?”

“Because it’s happened before,” he said. “I think, and this is the only time I will ever admit to this, the house thought being out here would make you feel better. It did the same thing to the first caretaker, Bobbi, when she was crying. She got news that her guinea pig died. Old age.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s it,” she said. “When I first arrived, it felt like it was pulling me outside. I ignored it and—” She stopped because Maverick was nodding.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but that happens to everyone. Xander suggests thinking of it as the house being proud and wanting to show off its best feature. Come on.”

Lucky groaned as she followed him back to the house. “Rational explanations are the worst.”

“To be fair, it’s only half-rational. The house temporarily hijacked your body to lead you somewhere it thinks of as peaceful.”

“In comes Maverick with the silver lining. What would I do without you?” Shit. Why did she say that?

He laughed. “Did it at least help? Are you feeling better?”

“Sure,” she lied.

“We’re used to working a certain way,” he said, apologetic. “I wouldn’t say we’re skeptics, I mean look where we’re at, but it’s not every day we meet someone like you. I’m sorry we got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I put myself in that situation by using a half-baked plan and leaving things too open-ended. I can’t blame other people for saying things they don’t know will upset me.”

The back of his hand brushed against hers. “What was your plan?”

“In hindsight, it was pretty bad,” she said. “I thought I was ready to share my ability with the world, but surprise, surprise, I can barely handle five people.”

“Everyone has to start somewhere.” He held a low-hanging branch out of their way, allowing her to pass under it first. “You just need more practice.”

“Maybe. Anyway, thank you for running out here to rescue me. The wilds of the orchard are fearsome indeed,” she joked.

He regarded her with a serious expression, eyebrows pinched with worry, but said, “Anytime.”