Chapter 31

As much as Lucky hated it, Xander had been right. She’d never admit to his unnaturally passive face that keeping Maverick contained, so to speak, was the right move. Not because she was distracted, but rather because her desire for him would be too strong for the house to ignore.

Inside Hennessee House from sunrise to sunrise with the exception of a few sleepy hours at dawn, Maverick didn’t exist. She didn’t think or talk about him. She archived his first impression and resisted indulging in any memories of him. If she felt herself slipping up, pining and yearning for him, she thought of a brick wall instead—something the house instantly picked up on.

No matter how much she focused on Reggie, she knew that if Hennessee figured out the truth it wouldn’t hesitate to create Specter-Maverick.

“You’ve been keeping secrets,” Specter-Reggie accused. They sat together, alone in the hallway. Gengar was strangely nowhere to be found. He was probably outside terrorizing the gophers that had recently moved into the backyard.

“Have I?” Lucky played clueless, as she had for several nights in row. Sometimes, she even imagined spray-painting words on her brick wall like—

“I know what you did last summer.”

Lucky laughed. “I bet you do.” Her days were increasingly depressing. She amused herself whenever she could.

But Specter-Reggie had an iron will, staying on target despite whatever curveballs she threw its way. “We always shared secrets. We could start another journal. Do you remember our code?”

“I remember, but you’re mistaken. I shared secrets with Reggie. You’re not him. Why are you pretending to be? How does it work?”

“Your life is miserable, but you won’t do anything about it.”

She sighed. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

“That’s your problem. Negativity. Bad energy. Nobody wants to be around that shit.”

“I’m fully aware of that, thank you.”

“You’ll never change.”

“People rarely do,” she said. “But I am different now than when we first met. More myself.”

Specter-Reggie’s eyes brightened. “How are you different? Why?”

“There it is. You’re becoming so predictable,” she teased.

That had been a massive breakthrough—the house coveted information. More accurately put, conversation. Lucky noticed an immediate change when she stopped volunteering details about her life at present.

After gaining access to someone’s mind, Hennessee House wanted to have a discussion because it simply didn’t fully understand humans yet. But it wanted to, so much so that she felt confident in declaring that its primary driving force.

“Let’s play a game,” Lucky suggested. She sized up Specter-Reggie, quickly assessing her well-being. She had to perform multiple mental check-ins every session as a precaution.

Initially she’d anticipated an eventual desensitization to the specter process, but that hadn’t happened yet! Seeing it hurt! Every night! She suspected Hennessee had a hand in manipulating the experience, ensuring it never lessened in intensity. As equally clever as it was cruel.

“How’s my nephew?” Lucky asked.

“You’re so stubborn.”

“Interesting.” She jotted down the reaction in her phone and scrolled to the list of follow-up questions she’d been using. The “game” involved seeing if Hennessee could keep up continuity across specters. So far, the answer was no. “How old is Reggie Junior? You gotta give me something.”

Specter-Reggie rolled its eyes. “Always have to be the smartest person in the room.”

“Very interesting.”

It seemed incapable of using direct lies in its responses and it never responded to questions Lucky herself didn’t have the answer to.

She truly didn’t know if she had a nephew, therefore an answer wasn’t possible. So, it pivoted to insults—words Reggie had indeed previously said to her. Hennessee seemingly lacked a moral compass, willing to say anything to provoke her into continued engagement.

“Does my nephew even exist?” she asked while consulting her phone again. “You claimed he did while using a different specter.”

“Because you believed it.”

Lucky did a double take, eyebrows shooting up. Oh, that was new. She didn’t hate her family—of course, she wondered if she was an aunt and if she’d ever get to see Reggie’s kids. But she’d never said that to her mom and vice versa. She never said it Reggie either.

Those thoughts were private. Hers.

Lying was out. Speculation, however, appeared to be permissible as long as the information came directly from her mind. Suddenly fired up, Lucky opened a new document to create a game to help break this new discovery down further.

“You’re hopeless,” Specter-Reggie said, drawing her attention. “You don’t understand anything.”

“Oh, but I will.” She was running out of time.

Nearing sunrise, Specter-Reggie had begun to fade. Its face began to take on a tired look—eyes drooping and bleary, mouth relaxed, head bowed as it continued to watch her.

He became more transparent with each passing minute as she timed how long the disappearing act took. Whatever energy its existence used had limits. She suspected communicating with her for so long was draining for Hennessee. It wasn’t used to this much attention, needing to rest and recharge too.

“Good night, Hennessee.”

She watched as it struggled to reply, face pinching with determination before relaxing again. “Good night, Lucky Bug.”

Hennessee House “slept” deepest in the first few hours around sunrise—completely dormant and unavailable to Lucky. It came back around ten a.m., tugging at her mind as if it’d been startled awake and instinctively reached out to confirm she hadn’t left.

She suspected someone being there comforted the house, because once assured, it returned to its dormant-reactive state until sunset.

Unfortunately, that tug also woke Lucky up. Every time.

“Noooo,” she groaned, regretfully rolling over into consciousness. Her phone was in her hand, hopes sky-high before she could stop them.

No missed calls. One text message from [Redacted].

“Damn it,” she cried, plummeting into despair. “I hate everything.”

Gengar was awake and watching her—folded into bread-loaf mode at the foot of the bed.

“Not you,” Lucky said to him. “I love you very much.”

In between feeding Gengar and her breakfast self-tape session, Lucky liked to go on a daily walk around the neighborhood before it got too hot outside, to clear her head. Among other things.

Each house featured the kind of manufactured uniformity enforced by HOAs and there were at least two cars in every driveway—something big like a minivan or SUV paired with a sleek sports car, which was very telling.

Some of her temporary neighbors noticed her, pausing to point and whisper while watering their lawns, checking their mail, or power walking down the opposite sidewalk. She’d always thought neighbors in small communities like this were supposed to be nosy as hell, but no one dared to say anything to her until she beamed a sunny “Good morning!” at them as she passed by.

Lucky savored the warm air in her lungs and on her skin, the feel of her muscles stretching, and even the slight pain in her shins. She really needed to invest in a good pair of shoes sooner rather than later. But the best part of her walk? Finally allowing herself to think about Maverick.

[Redacted]:Good morning. Please let me know you’re okay.

She’d changed his contact entry to help her stay strong and even forbidden Xander from mentioning him during their meetings.

It’d be safe to talk to him at sunrise if he’d bother calling, but he hadn’t, and it’d been days. Were text messages all she deserved now? She was so devastated she almost didn’t respond the first time he checked in, but knew if she didn’t, he’d be at the house within the hour.

She could break his heart seven ways from Sunday but let her be in danger. He’d come running to her rescue because that was the kind of person he was.

Blocking her thoughts about him from Hennessee House wasn’t hard. He was too precious to her to fail.

Thiswas hard—not knowing if he was ready to talk about things yet. She hated obsessing over it. She just…didn’t understand how they’d gotten here. He knew how important her work was to her. He’d been worrying about her since day one and she’d proven she could handle herself. Why was staying a little bit longer suddenly an issue?

Restrictive clauses aside. She understood that part. That was all on her.

Lucky:I’m okay. Thank you for checking.

Maverick was in his feelings. He needed time. She just wished he would tell her how much.

She flipped her phone between her hands as she passed the neighborhood library. It had a fountain out front—the strong, nostalgic smell of its chlorinated water made her want to go swimming. She also wanted to call Georgia. But she worried she’d hallucinated the whole having a new friend thing.

Making friends had always felt like climbing an impossible mountain—every time she tried, harsh winds sent her stumbling back into a nerve-shredding and vomit-inducing free fall.

Initially, Lucky believed being rejected would be a singular occurrence. As the black sheep, her family didn’t consciously band together to isolate her. It was groupthink. Easier to roll along and use her as the scapegoat for their own issues.

Then she attended college, where it happened again. Instead of a mother hen, warning her dorm mates about the boys with bad intentions at parties, she was a jealous cockblocker. The weird girl with the neat party trick was so annoying when she decided she wanted to be seen as a real person.

They weren’t the problem—it was her. Lucky needed to change.

After graduation, she joined a neighborhood nanny clique and discovered how to convince people to like her. They gossiped, traded war stories, and covered shifts like real coworkers. None of them knew she spent her off days doing things like wandering around forests with alleged telepaths who made their names trying to solve cold cases. None of them knew she had ESP. She kept her two lives separate until one eclipsed the other.

But Georgia knew everything—and liked her anyway?! Impossible.

The line only rang twice before Georgia answered. “Hi, it’s Lucky.”

“Well, well, and it only took several days. Honestly, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d work up the nerve.”

Lucky snickered as she pressed the button for the crosswalk. She sensed the unspoken insecurity hiding behind Georgia’s bravado. At least they were somewhat in the same boat. “When you said we were friends, did you mean the dinner and small talk kind of friends, or we call each for support kind of friends?”

“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive. I like dinner and constant contact. I suppose I can make an exception for you when it comes to talking on the phone. I’m not against it, but I will say hearing your voice strangely makes me want to see your face. Might have to switch to video.” Georgia laughed. “I heard about you and Mav.”

“Heard what exactly?” She frowned and then quickly smiled at the prancing mini pinscher sniffing her ankles as it walked by with its owner. Good morning, she mouthed to them.

“All of it. He tells me almost everything and Rebel fills in the rest.” Lucky could practically hear Georgia’s nonchalant shrug. “Oh, Silvia wants your number. Can I give it to her?”

“Why does she want it?”

“Why do you think?” Georgia scoffed. “You’re her brother’s girlfriend. She wants to get to know you. Really, Lucky, are you okay over there? Usually you’re quicker than this.”

“I’m—” She paused, deciding to head for the park to sit down for the rest of the call. “I feel like I’m going through a lot, and I would like to not be.”

“Hmm, yeah. Xander played the role of wealthy benefactor in a soap opera quite well. It’s a shame he doesn’t date. I would’ve married him yesterday.” Georgia snort-laughed. “For what it’s worth, I’m with you. That man is magic—he always finds a way to give people exactly what they need but he does not help everyone. You’ve made it to the inner circle, babes. If Xander’s decided he’s on your side, that shit’s for life.”

“Magic? Do you think he has ESP?” She hadn’t read that in him. Granted, she’d never read a fellow ESPer before. Not enough data to make a comparison.

“If you asked me three weeks ago, I would’ve said no. Now? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. I think he thinks of it as a really strong sense of intuition.”

“Interesting.”

“Ah, there’s my nerdy babe.” Georgia sighed, and then said, “Oh, shit, I really do miss your face.”

“No video. I’m, like, super sweaty right now.”

“Ooh, I have a better idea. Xander never said you couldn’t have non-Maverick company.”

Lucky almost got her hopes up. “You’ll come to Hennessee House?”

“I have to switch some things around, but…maybe? I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

In the afternoon, Georgia graced Hennessee House’s doorstep as promised, dressed in an electric blue short suit set with sunglasses holding back her hair. Lucky grinned at the sight of her. She’d unexpectedly missed her face too. “I’m leaving at seven o’clock sharp,” she said, striding through the door. “I decided we’re having a Get to Know Georgia session by watching my old videos. A cringey but necessary step in cementing our friendship.”

Lucky closed the door behind her. “Do you do this with all your friends?”

“Absolutely fucking not.” Georgia cackled. “I’m doing this to help you. A little miss who shall not be named instructed me to give you vlogging tips.”

She’d already warned Georgia about the brick wall rules.

Their quality time session was filled with popcorn, embarrassed laughter, guided lessons, and Gengar snuggles. He jumped on the couch and sat right next to Georgia as if people no longer bothered him. Lucky realized that was a part of Georgia’s charm—the ability to make anyone feel special and like they belonged whenever she wanted. She also realized that wasn’t something Georgia knew about herself yet.

“You’re going to make a great director someday,” Lucky said quietly. Her friend had the vision, talent, and compassion to lead a crew to greatness.

“Because of this?” They’d reached Georgia’s senior year of high school and third year vlogging overall by then. “Don’t be so easily impressed, babes. I’m way better than this now.”

A few hours after Georgia left, Lucky walked to the back of the orchard for the first time.

Neat rows of planted trees made it easy enough to find. No twist, no turns, no secret shortcuts hiding under large leaves that needed to be pushed back. Even so, the orchard still felt enchanting—if she took one wrong step, she’d fall into a new realm. Walk too far and she’d be in a fairy hill. She found the bench, intricate white wrought iron and earthly wooden planks, nestled in the center of a pumpkin patch. Thick green twisting vines and leaves had begun crawling up the sides.

Sitting down, only the second floor of Hennessee House was visible. She could see her suite room window—but couldn’t see the bench from there. Interesting.

Specter-Reggie appeared as expected, silently and right next to her. Fitting, as she’d chosen vow of silence as her first game of the night.

“Lucky Bug.”

She refused to respond. Instead, she set up her camera to film herself. Even after Georgia’s lessons, she hadn’t gotten the hang of vlogging yet. It just wasn’t the same without [Mini-Redacted] there with her, but getting footage of her reactions was better than nothing.

She sat resolutely listening as Specter-Reggie’s frustration grew and grew until he began spewing every fear, weakness, and horrible thing she’d ever thought about herself. With increasing hostility.

Specter-Reggie wasn’t overly talkative—a very Reggie-like quality. He was outgoing and personable but preferred to listen over being the loudest one in the room. But Hennessee House had a temper and was letting it fly something fierce. A very un-Reggie-like development.

Interesting.

Hours later, when Lucky had had enough, she’d said, “You don’t believe those things about me.”

It blinked at her, a smile tugging at its lips.

“Those memories, those insults were mine. Before tonight, you only repeated things Reggie had actually said to me,” she said. “You need to wear someone’s memory to be seen, I get that. But why can’t you speak for yourself?”

Specter-Reggie’s face went slack, and it made Lucky shiver—from anticipation.