Page 138 of A Heart So Haunted
Her expression became wary. “Yes?” She drew out the word to three syllables.
Those stupid tears started welling again. I wiped them away angrily. How could I have cried more in the last summer than I had in my whole life?
“Landry?” she urged. “What’s wrong?”
What were the words for what I was feeling? What was I supposed to say? How could I explain—anything?
All this time, everyone had left. I’d stepped back and boxed myself into this one square, waiting for the day that people decided to stand beside me. It hadn’t worked. Because I was always pushing people away.
Out of what? Fear that they’d see my insides and leave anyway?
But Emma—she hadn’t left. Sayer hadn’t left. Hadrian hadn’t had a choice. I hadn’t, either. And at the end of the day, life offered cards and paths I didn’t want. That didn’t mean I could refuse them.
This was a card I needed to keep. I needed to forgive myself for the things I’d held onto in the fear of being alone, of being left. Just like Emma and Sayer hadn’t left me.
The words bubbled over. “He’s gone, Emma. Hadrian’s gone.”
Emma’s expression softened. She leaned her head on my shoulder, then wrapped her arms around me in a bear hug. My bones pinched, but I didn’t care. I let my cheek fall on her head with a sigh.
“What? Like he dumped you?” she gasped, eyes going wide. Then, they narrowed. “What did he do? Have someone on the side? Do I need to find a house and set it on fire?”
I offered a watery chuckle. “No. No fires.” Because if she set his house on fire, we’d have been homeless.
She didn’t pull back. Instead, she only rocked with me. “Then what happened?”
I kept one hand on the headstone. “Would you believe me if I told you the house was haunted?”
She bolted upright. “There was a ghost? And you didn’ttellme?” Her eyes went wide with offense.
“Not a ghost,” I said. “Hadrian.”
I told her everything.
Chapter Thirty
At least it got to keep the girl for a while longer. There was something about being heard that warmed a heart—any heart. She’d heard it, hadn’t ignored it, not like the ones before.
Harthwait relaxed at the thought. Yes, that would work. Borrowed time while the knot inside of its foundation settled.
It knew—itknew—as soon as Cadence had ushered the girl out during the day that she’d be able to hear the house, feel it, and that Cadence had known it, too. That the girl would come back to Harthwait, slowly but surely.
And now, it felt different. The air a bit lighter. The gnarled, jagged feeling inside of its walls smoother, less hungry.
He was gone, at least—that poor boy that had the atrocious father. Always a bad sore, that one, drawing in that darkness, or whatever his guardian had done to keep the boy anchored here. Harthwait never had minded him. He made it feel alive in a different way, but maybe now it was time to sleep. One day, Harthwait might miss that feeling. The starvation for attention, for life, for someone to give to it. If it ever gained that ability again.
Yes, that sounded like a nice idea.
Now, Harthwait felt their feet on the front porch steps. They’d been with Landry quite often the last few weeks. The sister, Emma, talked with her hands, hair bobbing as she spoke. The mourning doves called; the sky wasn’t quite dark, but near. In the driveway, the man with taped glasses attempted to gather bags in both arms and close the car door with his shoe.
Landry jogged back. He shook his head, but she took a bag or two anyway. Emma still talked, eyes wide.
A family. It was nice to have a family.
“And then,” Emma exclaimed, “he said my PTO days were included. Guess how many that left me? None. So you wanna know what I emailed back?”
Landry eased up the steps. What a familiar picture: her expression weary, lips parted, hands fisted at her sides, but with shopping bags this time. Her eyebrow quirked. Except now she was grown, her mother wasn’t in the driveway, and Cadence was gone.
Sayer waddled up behind them. Groaned. Closed his eyes.
