Chapter 35

Lucky awoke with a raging headache that her insensitive alarm clock could not care less about. Sunrise waited for no one, but Maverick waited for her.

Her mouth tasted like bitter ashes. “Xander, I hate you.” She dry-heaved and rolled onto her stomach for safety’s sake. “As soon as I remember how to walk, I’m going to destroy you and your evil brown liquor.” She spotted him half-seated, half-lying, but all strewn about the round table and chair in the back of the parlor. “Are you alive?”

“I am. Unfortunately.” He sat up, complaining about the ache in his back and neck like a stiff old man who’d lived a long and active life.

She looked him dead in the eye. “I’m never drinking with you again.”

“We should’ve just eaten the cookies. Are you all right?”

“No, I’m miserable.” She took her time standing, taking stock of her current condition. Headache. Foul feelings. Flutters of queasiness. “I’m going upstairs. If you suddenly hear me squealing in delight, no, you didn’t. Mind your business.” She wobbled toward the entryway, using the furniture to keep her balance, and turned to him for one more thing. “Thank you for helping with my experiment.”

In a wonderful turn of events, her personal crisis had been averted. Hennessee didn’t force her to communicate with a specter of Maverick or Rebel. It’d left them alone the rest of the night.

Xander scoffed, shaking his head, but said, “You’re welcome.”

In her suite, Lucky gently flopped face down on the bed and counted 113 seconds before her phone rang. “I’m hungover. Help.”

“Oh no, you sound pitiful,” Maverick crooned. “What made you decide to get drunk?”

“It’s Xander’s fault—he kept pouring drinks. Sipping bourbon doesn’t make you get less drunk. It’s still the same amount of alcohol in the end.”

Maverick was silent for several heartbeats and then, “Xander.”

Lucky smiled into her pillow. “Maverick.”

“Lucky.”

“Why did you say his name like that?”

“Why is he there?”

“He checks in once a week to make sure I’m not possessed.”

“That is not funny.”

“Yes, it is because that’s never gonna happen.” She giggled. “I showed him something and he started drinking to cope, I think. But ooh! We had a breakthrough last night!”

“We? You and the house?”

“All three of us. Xander was too drunk to drive so he slept over.”

“He could’ve called for a ride. He didn’t have to stay there.”

“Maverick Phillips, are you jealous?” she teased.

“Yes.”

Lucky laughed her heart out, headache be damned. “You know you have zero reason to be, right?”

“I know,” he said. “But he gets to see you, and I don’t.”

“I’m technically working. He’s technically my boss. Last night was the equivalent of after-work cocktails with a supernatural twist.” She closed her eyes, adjusting her position for maximum comfort. “I saw Xander’s specter. It’s his stepmom. He told me a little bit about her.”

“Oh, shit.” Maverick blew out a breath. “I know he’s been having a hard time since she passed.”

“You have no idea. I read it in him—he changed because of it.”

“Changed as in he’s—”

“No, not even close,” she said, quickly. “Xander isn’t rotting. He’s healing. I read the steps he’s taken since Brightly passed. He’ll be all right eventually.”

“You sound proud of him.”

“Because I am. You were right—he really is a good guy. Don’t be mad at him.”

“I’m not.” He sounded surprised. “I was just giving him a hard time. Georgia swears his sense of humor is underdeveloped and I’m starting to think she’s right.”

“No, it’s there. It’s just really dry,” she said. “His specter behaved differently than mine. As soon as my head calms down, I’m on the case.”

“Why don’t I let you go so you can recover?”

“No.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

His warm, soft laughter felt like a balm to her soul. She didn’t feel half as exhausted as she normally did after a night with Hennessee because Xander had been its primary focus. But if she wasn’t careful, she’d fall asleep on the phone anyway. “I read the chapters you sent. I’m letting my thoughts simmer before I read it again.”

“You’re going to read it twice?”

“Once isn’t enough. I don’t want to say too much yet, but”—she paused to tease him—“I loved it. I was expecting something similar to the style you used on the podcast but that wasn’t it at all.”

“I’m really proud of those stories, but I’d like to think I’ve gotten better since then.”

“You have. It was so good.”

“Thank you,” he said, and then delicately cleared his throat. “I’m sure there were some parts that were…not so good?”

Lucky covered her mouth and held the phone away from her ear. Hearing that voice again—so vulnerable, so nervous—made her want to scream because she almost couldn’t handle it. Allowing her to see this side of him meant she’d made it. He trusted her.

“It’s a draft,” she said carefully. “And yet, as a reader, I was fully invested by the time I finished.”

“Really?”

“Really. That’s why I want to read it again to focus on the craft stuff. I bought an ebook about plotting and character since I’m not familiar with all the terms.”

“You—you didn’t have to do that. General thoughts and feedback would’ve been more than enough.”

“Oh,” she said softly, hoping she didn’t overstep.

“I honestly don’t know why I’m surprised.” He chuckled. “Tell you what, after you’ve finished studying we can talk about it. You can ask me all the questions you want and I’ll teach you how I do it.”

Lucky sighed in relief, pressing a hand over her heart. It was okay to be a lot. It was okay to be too much. It was okay to be herself with him. She felt relaxed, settling into the comfortable silence between them…sinking into the soft bedding…eyes drifting closed to the sound of his even, steady breathing as if it were music.

“You’re falling asleep,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

“Okay. One last thing—”

“No, many more things,” she mumbled.

He laughed again, making her sigh. Again. “I wanted to ask if you were still getting calls from that unknown number?”

“No. Why?”

“I think whoever is doing it moved on to me. I woke up to six missed calls.”

Lucky’s eyes shot open. She was up and fully alert as if someone poured cold water on her. “What time did they start?”

“Hold on—first one was at 8:43 p.m. I missed it because Rebel wanted to read a book with me before bed. I didn’t hear the others.”

“Can you do me a favor? If they call again, could you answer it? Tell me what they say?”

“Of course. Did you eventually answer?”

“I did. I think that’s what stopped the calls,” she lied. She didn’t mean to—that was genuinely what she’d thought at the time. Now she wasn’t so sure. “Thank you.”

Lucky’s brain whirred with new ideas, throbbed from the bourbon infection, and the combination had a devastating effect on her stomach. She rushed down the stairs anyway, hoping Xander hadn’t left yet. After searching in a desperate circle around the first floor, she found him outside in the gazebo with the bag of peas on his forehead.

“Is that a Bloody Mary? I had ingredients for that in there?” she asked.

“Would you like one?”

“Pass. I told you we’re never drinking together again.” She took the seat kitty-corner to him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Fresh air.”

“How are you holding up?”

“How do I look?”

Still in yesterday’s clothes with barely a wrinkle in sight. How rich, how annoying. “I meant emotionally.”

He glanced at her with reddened eyes. His skin had a subtle green tint, but other than that he seemed all right. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Oh, I’m not worried. You don’t pay me enough for that yet,” she joked. “Off-the-wall question: Do you ever get phone calls from an unknown number? Specifically one that calls at odd hours but noticeably more frequently at night.”

Those pesky peas blocked her from reading his expression as he asked, “Why?”

“Because I started getting the calls the weekend we filmed Shortcake and they stopped when I came back here. The last one I got was while at Maverick’s place, right before you put me on house arrest.”

“For the final time, you are free to leave. Do not imply I am your parole officer.”

“Focus, Xander,” she said, trying to keep a straight face. “I answered the last call but didn’t hear anything except clicking and static. If my suspicions are correct, then I’m right in assuming you’ve gotten them too. Do you answer?”

“No.” He sighed, removing the peas. “Two of the previous caretakers reported getting them from a short time as well.”

“I can’t believe this.” Lucky began to giggle. “The calls really have been coming from inside the house.”

Xander stared at her. “I will walk out right now.”

“What? Why? That was funny, come on.”

“I’m glad I’m not paying you to be a comedian,” he said with no bite. “What do you think it means?”

“My initial guess is the psychic link between Hennessee and its occupants doesn’t instantly vanish upon exit. It must fade naturally over time when the house doesn’t refresh its access.” She bit her thumbnail. “What about Stephen? Has he received any?”

“Not that I know of.” He pulled out his phone and fired off a text. “I suppose it’s calling us in efforts to get us to return?”

“That’s plausible, but kind of silly. It needs us present somewhere on its property to speak.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Ninety-six percent.” She grinned. “For example, I know how to make spaghetti. I have the memory, but if I don’t have the ingredients, I can’t cook it. Hennessee remembers who we are, the memories it absorbs, and its own experiences, but it can’t duplicate them from nothing. We are the ingredients. Frankly, I don’t believe the house is even strong enough for long-distance communication yet.”

“Yet.” Xander’s phone pinged. “No calls,” he confirmed.

“So, either he doesn’t have a connection to the house or it doesn’t have a reason to call him.”

So, why, then, would Hennessee call Maverick? What would it need him for? It had her and Xander last night.

“Oh, shit.” Lucky leaped to her feet, turning in a circle as if she were chasing her thoughts. If Xander hadn’t been there, she knew it would’ve used Maverick as a specter for her. It wasn’t strong enough to do both so it had to choose. She stared at Hennessee House as everything came together, slotting into place like puzzle pieces. Since it couldn’t give her a specter, it tried to give her the real thing. “Holy shit.”

“What? What is it?”

It made sense. All of it. Everything. She’d been partially wrong again, seeing what she wanted and misinterpreting what she didn’t. She looked at Xander, waiting with his eyebrows raised in question.

Lucky swallowed hard. He’d hired her, given her a chance, voluntarily helped with her experiments, but she couldn’t tell Xander. Not yet. Not first.

Maverickwas her person. Being with him felt the way she always imagined it would. There wasn’t anyone else she wanted to share her discoveries with more than him.

“It’s too early to tell. I need time to process and plan, but holy shit.” She hugged him and planted a kiss in the middle of his forehead. “Don’t bother me for the next several hours.”