But instead of an intruder, a gust of wind blew toward her as if she were standing directly in front of an air conditioner. It cut straight through her, making her shiver, and instantly cooling her bathwater.
It disappeared as quickly as it had arrived but left something behind.
In the bedroom, a mason jar with a purple flower inside sat on top of the old chest directly at the foot of the bed—the same kind of purple flower as on the wallpaper downstairs.
She grabbed her towel, thinking quickly as she headed into the bedroom. That jar hadn’t been there before. Shewould’venoticed.
A welcome gift?
Awarninggift? No different than an abusive partner trying to soften her up for the blows to come later.
Her hand stalled with hesitation before ultimately reaching out to pick the jar up. She’d started with respect and would see that plan through. “Thank you.” She swallowed hard, forcing her uncertainty back down. “This is so nice. I’ll put it on the dresser for now.”
Bath ruined, she dressed and unpacked her picnic basket, ate dinner, and swapped the cotton pillowcases on the bed for her satin ones to protect her hair. She’d always been a light, restless sleeper. Bonnets, scarves, wraps, you name it, never lasted longer than an hour on her head because she tossed and turned so much.
Her eyes had begun to drift closed as she read a book in bed when her phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Lucky? It’s Maverick.”
She sat bolt upright instantly, stomach somersaulting into oblivion. “Oh. Hi.”
He laughed, a husky and amused staccato chuckle. “You sound disappointed.”
“I’m not. It’s a defense mechanism. Can’t be let down if your hopes are never up,” she answered without thinking and squeezed her eyes shut in regret. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, that’s fine and smart. Although, I don’t know if I could live like that. For me, having hope makes life worth living.”
She smiled, lowering her head as if she wanted to hide thesudden burst of expression. Unexpectedly, though, her brain betrayed her by deciding to answer his honesty with nihilism. “The only thing that makes life worth living is the fact that I’m not dead. It’s like I’m being forced to survive.”
He laughed again, softer that time. “I definitely have questions about that, but I think I’ll save them for tomorrow’s interview.”
“Will you really be here at sunrise?”
“That’s the deal. How are you settling in? Still nervous?”
“All settled and tucked into bed.” Nerves got to her all the time. She’d felt them in the car, but so far, not at all in the house. Creepy or unsettling feelings weren’t following her like a threatening shroud. Getting the flower was…strange, at most. Fighting against her desire to do as she pleased had been the most distressing part. “The house hasn’t gobbled me up yet.”
“I told you nothing happens on the first night.”
She glanced at the mason jar. “You sure about that?”
“Did something happen? Wait, no, you can’t tell me. I shouldn’t even be calling you right now.”
“Then why did you?”
“Honestly?” He exhaled into a sigh. “I was…worried.”
“You…you were worried about me?” After three hopeful beats of silence, common sense kicked in. He didn’t mean that personally. “Oh, because I’m number four, right? I know my predecessors didn’t last long.”
“No,” he said matter-of-factly. No room for anything else. “I didn’t call them. I didn’t even think to. Earlier, you sounded a little panicked and I honestly haven’t stopped thinking about it.”
“Shit, sorry. I promise that wasn’t because of the house. I’m fine here. I don’t feel unsafe. I don’t feel scared. It’s a little jarringbeing somewhere with so much space and no one to share it with because I’m used to my tiny room in my tiny apartment, but other than that I’m okay.”
“If it wasn’t the house, what made you so nervous?”
She sat stuck in the moment, struggling to find her next words. How could she explain to him that her dreams, plural, were literally coming true without giving herself away?
