Page 116 of Looking for Love in All the Haunted Places
“The house’s true voice,” she said, rubbing his back. “You’re okay. It says something similar to me every night too. I’ve been spinning in circles trying to figure out what it means.”
“I think that scared me sober.” He laughed weakly, but it was good to hear. “You do thiseverynight? I am not paying you enough.”
Lucky laughed, scrunching her nose at him. “At least something good came out of tonight,” she joked, patting his arm. “Welcome tomyinner circle.”
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 ofqueasiness. “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 isnotfunny.”
“Yes, it is because that’s never gonna happen.” She giggled. “I showed him something and he started drinking to cope, I think. Butooh! 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.”
