Epilogue

Early the next morning while Maverick was still asleep, Lucky snuck downstairs to call Xander.

She explained everything as thoroughly as she could and ended up pacing from the parlor room wall to the sitting room wall and back again while waiting for him to remember how to speak. Every so often she checked her phone screen to ensure he hadn’t hung up. Six minutes so far.

Lucky yawned, throwing her head back and stretching her face muscles. “Are you going to say something? Anything?”

“You mean to tell me, that all I had to do was think of someone else?” Xander asked.

“Anything else, really, but preferably a person.” She shrugged. “It became a haunted house for me, but I suspect that was an exception, not a rule.”

“I cannot believe we were all so completely off base,” he said. “It speaks volumes that we immediately assumed the worst. In hindsight, in what world would having a few final moments with a guinea pig be considered a torment?”

“It was the same with Eunice. The house didn’t do anything except try to calm her with her favorite scent until she decided to leave. It knew she wasn’t going to stay the moment she walked in.”

However, Hennessee most definitely found scaring people amusing because it liked exaggerated emotional responses. There was a fine line between annoying and spooky—the house won either way.

Xander asked, “Were you able to discover what happened with Brian?”

Lucky sucked in a breath. “Turns out Hennessee was not a fan. Didn’t like him at all. It was genuinely and aggressively trying to evict him. I couldn’t read any of the people I saw in the house’s memories, so unfortunately, I don’t know why. But I highly recommend never getting on the house’s bad side.”

Xander made a noncommittal noise. “What of the names on the wall?”

“Easy,” she said, still pacing for no particular reason. “By engaging with its chosen memory, it felt comfortable engaging with ours.”

“Chosen memory?”

“Hennessee has very fond memories of a certain small, pale, and dark-haired boy giving it a tattoo once upon a time. It didn’t use that word but that was the impression I got,” she said. “It wanted to relive the moment you wrote your name. It was only fair that it then allowed us to experience some of our memories too.”

“And it believed it was using our memories to make us happy. A peace offering that would hopefully lead to companionship.” Xander laughed, airy and brief. “Ah, Lucky Hart, you are a wonder.”

“Stop flattering me like that. It’s gross,” she joked.

“Have you decided what’s next for you now that The Caretaker is technically wrapped?”

“I have immediate plans to collect all the beautiful money you owe me,” she said. “I was also hoping to stay with Hennessee for a little bit longer. It feels wrong to up and leave it right now.” The house had already reestablished their connection. She fully expected to feel that familiar tug in a few hours.

“I unfortunately agree. It may take some time to find a permanent live-in caretaker. I appreciate your willingness to continue.”

“With pay.” She cleared her throat. “Willingness to continue with pay.”

Xander was silent for longer than she liked. “Of course.”

She punched the air. “You also wouldn’t happen to have any leads on wealthy acquaintances in need of someone with my particular skill set?”

“An associate of mine may have something in the works you’d be interested in,” he said. “But I’d rather hear what you would like to do.”

Upstairs, Maverick rounded the corner and began descending the steps. She grinned at the sight of him, topless in plaid pajama bottoms that matched the shirt she wore. His second night inside Hennessee House had been nearly sleepless again, but easier overall.

The house didn’t actually go to sleep. It had just said that as shorthand, so she spent some time coaching Maverick on how to choose his specter just in case Hennessee wanted to talk to him. She also gave him some tips based on her own experiences—he wouldn’t like seeing Rebel and he probably shouldn’t think about Lucky either because she was already there. But as the hours passed, it became apparent the house would keep its word and let them be. So, they shifted their focus solely to each other.

Without breaking his stride, Maverick gestured for her to follow and continued toward the kitchen.

Lucky nodded. “Keep investigating,” she admitted to Xander. “But with a team I can mentor. Maybe try getting into contact with young ESPers who are having a hard time like I did. Having someone to look up to would’ve been life-changing for me.”

“That’s ambitious.”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I can establish a summer camp for gifted youngsters.” She laughed. “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately. I have to go. Maverick is up now. So.”

“Up where?”

“Oh, did I not mention that? Maverick spent the night—okay, talk to you later, bye!”

Lucky sprinted to the kitchen, sliding the last few feet on the hardwood floor thanks to her socks. “Good morning.” She stepped into his space, sliding her arms around his lower back and lifting her head to kiss him. Dizzy and breathless from happiness, she knew she was down bad and wouldn’t have it any other way.

He whispered, “Are you hungry?” against her lips and kissed her again.

She hadn’t been to the grocery store in a while. The refrigerator was crying out for help, and the pantry was a picked-over wasteland. “I think I have some eggs left.”

He snorted. “I can work with that.”

“So can I,” she said to defend herself. “I’ve been learning how to cook. One new recipe every day.”

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “I’ll even cook this morning to prove it.”

Lucky kept an eye on Maverick as she made eggs Benedict, noting the lingering tension in his posture, the tightness around his eyes, and how much he worried at his palms. He insisted he was fine but nervous, convinced Hennessee was waiting for the perfect moment—for him to drop his guard—to launch the perfect jump scare.

But he trusted her more and would stay until noon. They had plans to pick Rebel up and take her out for the day. After plating their breakfast and feeding a yowling Gengar, they sat at the kitchen table together.

“I’m impressed.” He chuckled. “I thought recipe meant like…avocado toast.”

“I have a recipe for that now too. Well?” she asked expectantly after his first bite.

“It’s good. Really good.” He smiled. “I have some news. I didn’t get to tell you last night that they released the shooting schedule for the next season of BARD. It’s going to be the final one.”

“Did you?”

“I did. I’m retiring from hosting and transitioning to the new production unit as lead writer. Guess who’s our producer?”

She gasped. “Not Georgia?”

“The one and only. Shortcake came together beautifully. She got a promotion.”

“She didn’t tell me that,” she said with a slight pout.

“I don’t think she’s told anyone. She’s happy about it, but a little overwhelmed too. It’s a lot of responsibility. She’ll be fine.”

Lucky made a mental note to text Georgia later to check in. “When do I get to see the finished episodes? I can’t wait.”

“It’s officially set to go live two weeks before The Caretaker and that depends on when you wrap up here. But I’m thinking about hosting a private premiere for family and Rebel’s friends before it goes live. Make it extra special for her.”

“Any ideas for potential venues?”

“My apartment.”

“What if you held it here? Having a party would make Hennessee’s entire year.”

“I’d have to think about that.” He began pushing the food around on his plate. “Rebel would love it, but my family might not come. They wouldn’t understand. It would just freak them out.”

“Ah, got it.” She gently nudged his foot under the table and rubbed along his calf, nervous and needing to touch him. “Does the rest of your family know I have ESP yet?” Odds were good they did by now. Rebel or Silvia might’ve told them, and they already changed their minds about her and—

“You’re not a house, Lucky. You’re a person. They’ll deal.” Maverick stared at her, quietly contemplative. “Does your family really talk to you like you’re garbage?”

“Yeah. I mean, they did. I don’t talk to most of them anymore.” She sucked in a shaky breath and cleared her throat. “I don’t bother with my extended family at all. With my mom, it’s complicated but it’s also not. I decided I needed to let go and she let me. She didn’t fight for me. I realized I didn’t want her to. I’d like to talk to my brother, but I don’t think that feeling is mutual. I sent him an email the other day.”

His expression brightened. “Did he reply?”

“Yeah.” Xander had convinced her to send it after Specter-Brightly disappeared and they’d gone back to drinking. Reggie responded within an hour.

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t read it.”

“Lucky—”

“I know! I know! I just…I’m worried.” She whined, unable to help it. “What if it says Fuck off and never contact me again and I shatter into a million pieces?”

Maverick’s eyes flashed, his entire body tensing. She’d never seen him look like that before—fearsome with barely concealed anger. “It better not,” he rumbled. The implied threat was sure and steady as stone.

Lucky giggled, completely surprised by the sudden appearance of Maverick’s protective side. He wasn’t a fighter by nature. She had never even heard him raise his voice before. He thought and overthought until he was ready to talk things out, but he’d fight for Rebel and for her without hesitation. She got up and walked around to his side of the table. He opened his arms and she sat on his lap, holding him tightly and pressing their cheeks together.

“You should read it,” he murmured, relaxing against her. “What happened to almost fearless?”

Love honestly ruined that. It was easy to be almost fearless when she had nothing to lose but herself. Now the things that scared her made her feel alive in a way few things ever had.

“Do you want to read it together?” he asked.

“Okay.”

Lucky pulled out her phone, opening her email.

“Reggie,” Maverick read. “So many R names in our lives.”

“I know, right?” She laughed even as her hands shook.

“Whatever it says, you still have me,” Maverick promised. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”

Lucky kissed his temple, strengthened by his familiar scent and being in his arms. “You better get comfortable then.”

Reggie had only written three sentences:

Call me. It’s been too long. I miss you, Lucky Bug.