Page 32 of Liars and Liaisons

“No one’s heard a note come from his study in weeks.” Micah squishes the goat’s face with her pale hands, kissing his nose, then releases him. He trots off, meeting up with a little brown-and-white-spotted friend before they disappear to the side of the house. “All he does up here is sulk in the dark and throw ragers. I can’t un-smell the parties, guys.”

As I consider that, my gaze slips slightly to the right, brushing the edge of a window a few feet from me. I’m not exactly sure where it leads since the porch is only accessible from the outside, but when the dark green curtain shifts, I get the sense that I’m being watched.

Which means that’s either Grayson’s bedroom or…

The noises I’m hearing at night really do belong to someone.

Something.

Suddenly, money no longer seems like a valid enough reason to stay. I should heed the girls’ warning, take note of the manipulation they say Grayson is capable of, and recognize that a house this big and lonely has to come with apparitions.

Even if it means not getting Nate back or not putting a dent in the debt that keeps me from going home.

Ishouldrun.

But I don’t.

I just go back to pruning, ignoring the bead of blood that materializes on my thumb when a thorn nicks me—even though it didn’t penetrate the skin.

Inhaling a deep breath as Micah and Willow begin arguing behind me, I wipe the crimson liquid on a rose petal and pretend I don’t find it alarming that the droplet rolls off, splattering on the concrete beneath me.

10

My fingers freeze,my pinkie flicking E in the third fret, as a warm presence appears in the room behind me.

“What is it, Micah?”

The fireplace flickers to life, and I turn to see my youngest staff member standing with a hand on one of the gas knobs, staring in my direction. Her hair hangs in straight, almost-limp strands down over her shoulders, and she crosses her arms over her chest in clear disapproval.

“Do you think it was wise to bring that girl here?”

“I think… I wasn’t concerned withwisdomwhen I paid her to accompany me here, no.”

“She’snice, you know. Even though you’ve dropped her in the middle of nowhere with no friends or resources, she’s trying to do stuff around the property to fit in.”

“Ah, yes. I’m aware of the time she’s spent on her knees in the garden.”

I shove the guitar from my lap, erasing the image of Violet kneeling from my rotting brain. Micah flinches as it crashes to the floor.

“How very magnanimous of our new guest. Do thank her for the time and effort for me, will you?”

“Why did you even bother dragging her up here if you just want her to sit around and do nothing?”

I stare at Micah for the first time in weeks, cataloging the pink in her cheeks and the angry scowl marring her eyebrows. It fucking hurts to look at her sometimes, but I don’t say that. She doesn’t even maintain eye contact with me, as if she knows the exact thoughts swimming in my mind, keeping me up at night.

“You know she hears things. Around the house,” Micah continues.

Anxiety clouds my chest, pressing in on my lungs. “What things?”

“Noises. Steps, groans, whatever else. Any idea whatthatcould be?”

Impossible. The ghosts in this house spend far too much of their time tormenting me. I can’t imagine Violet being subject to the same eccentricities.

Acknowledging that there’s a possibility means admitting what happened here. What I’m trying—still—to somehow correct.

It’d mean that I’m a failure, in more ways than one.

Sighing, I reach for the lit Cuban on the coffee table a few feet away. “Where is Willow this evening?”

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