19. Tucker
The haunted house looked exactly like what I’d expected from a small-town setup in an old elementary school: low-budget, homemade, and about as terrifying as a cardboard cutout of Dracula. I stood outside in the long line, arms crossed, as a group of teenagers ran ahead of us and cut the line, letting out exaggerated screams before they even got inside.
The building itself was actually pretty perfect for this. It had probably been built more than a century ago and had definitely seen better days. The old bricks were chipped, the windows were clouded with grime, and a couple of plastic skeletons dangled haphazardly from the gutters in a way that made me a little unsure if they were put up for the event or had been there for ages.
Over the double doors that led inside, a sign, hand-painted in dripping red letters, read Beware: Haunted Schoolhouse . The handwriting was done in a way that probably would’ve been creepy to a kindergartner. But to me? It looked more like someone’s Halloween art project gone wrong.
I cast a final, skeptical glance at the building before leaning down to Dakota. “Are they serious? This is like being threatened by a damp paper towel.”
Phoebe and Austin were in line ahead of us, whispering to each other. She was all smiles, while Austin tried to act cooler than he felt, glancing around like he wasn’t sure whether to be unimpressed or nervous.
“I dunno, this place seems like it’s got real haunted house potential,” Dakota muttered, clearly trying to psych herself up.
I shook my head, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, maybe if the ghosts in here are afraid of being bored to death.”
She chuckled softly, clearly trying to keep her nerves in check. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, and she kept glancing at the fake werewolf by the entrance like it might come alive and bite her.
It was endearing, really—how someone who seemed so bold and fearless in her day-to-day life was rattled by the thought of a haunted house that could barely scare a toddler.
“Hey, Pheebs,” Dakota called out, “you sure you wanna go through with this? Austin might need you to hold his hand.”
Phoebe whipped her head around, her ponytail flying behind her as she narrowed her eyes at Dakota. “Puh-lease. I’m not your ticket outta here, Auntie Kota. I’ll be the one leading the way. Besides, Austin can handle it... right?”
Austin shifted, clearly not wanting to look weak in front of her. “Uh, yeah. I’m good.”
I could see Dakota’s shoulders stiffen slightly, like she was gearing up for something big. It made me grin just a little.
We approached the entrance, where an older man in a vampire cape half-heartedly waved us through with a plastic scythe. Why would a vampire carry a scythe? This town…
“Enter at your own risk,” the vampire-reaper drawled, looking about as thrilled as a kid eating raisins on Halloween.
Dakota inched forward and tried to look tough, but her eyes flicked toward the darkness inside the school with clear hesitation.
I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “What’s the matter, Wildcard? Afraid of a few homemade cobwebs?”
She shot me a glare, but her lips twitched. “I’m not afraid. I just think I’m allergic to fake fog. Or maybe it’s all the glow-in-the-dark paint particles in the air.”
“Right,” I said, smirking.
Her lips pressed together like she refused to give me the satisfaction of admitting she was scared. But when we stepped inside and the musty scent of decades-old building materials hit us, I noticed her hand brush against mine—whether by accident or instinct, I wasn’t sure.
Either way, I took it in mine.
For the witnesses, of course.
Phoebe and Austin were already charging ahead, Austin letting out a low whistle as we entered the first room. The whole place was lit with dim, flickering lights, and the walls were decorated with what I could only assume was supposed to be a crime scene—cheap plastic bones and chalk outlines on the floor.
A boombox in the corner played eerie music, and I had to do a double-take at the sight of it. Who still had a tape-playing boombox these days? Had it been in here since the school was open?
“Yikes,” Phoebe said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “This place is real spooky, huh?”
Austin snorted. “Yeah. Really creepy. I might faint.”
But Dakota wasn’t looking at them. She was glancing around the room, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow, like she was waiting for something to jump out at her.
I leaned in closer. “You’re really scared, aren’t you?”
She shot me a look, her eyes narrowing, but the slight tremble in her voice gave her away. “I’m not scared. I just don’t like?—”
Before she could finish, a loud crash echoed from the corner, and some sort of ghoul on a wire jerked toward us, shrieking like a banshee. I watched as Dakota jumped nearly a foot off the ground, her hand immediately clamping onto my arm, her knuckles white.
“Sure, you’re not scared,” I said after the wire pulled the ghoul back into the corner, biting back a laugh. “Just... allergic to that guy, too, right?”
“Shut up,” she muttered, her face flushed. “It was just... unexpected.”
I raised an eyebrow, not even trying to hide my grin now. I could’ve indulged her. I could’ve wrapped my arms around her and whispered soothing things in her ear until she felt more at ease. But… that wasn’t what she needed. I wasn’t sure how I knew it, but I’d been following my gut for as long as I could remember, and right now? My gut told me the only way to get this woman to relax and have some fun was to… Well, make her.
“Uh-huh,” I teased. “Unexpected. You know, we can turn around if it’s too much for you. Maybe there’s a coloring station in the back for people who don’t want to get scared.”
“You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned, though she didn’t let go of my arm. “I’m fine.”
Fine or not, she jumped again when a ghost on a pulley came flying out of nowhere. I couldn’t help it—I let out a deep laugh, which earned me another glare. On its heels, however, was a hint of that sweet smile she’d given me at the diner the first time she’d heard me laugh like that. Correction: the first time she’d made me laugh like that.
My plan was working.
“Okay, okay,” I said, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her a little closer as we walked. “I’ll stop messing with you... for now,” I lied.
Phoebe and Austin were laughing up ahead, clearly enjoying the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “Tucker, you better watch out,” Phoebe called over her shoulder. “Dakota’s gonna get you back for this. She’s got that look in her eyes.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll try,” I replied, smirking down at Dakota.
Dakota rolled her eyes, but I could see her mouth twitching, trying not to smile. “I think I don’t really like you anymore.”
“Liar,” I shot back.
As we moved through another dark hallway, the atmosphere shifted slightly. The decorations grew more elaborate, and the rooms darker, the air thick with store-bought fog. It was still cheesy, but I could tell Dakota’s nerves were starting to get the better of her. Her fingers tightened on my arm, and her steps slowed just a little.
“You okay?” I asked, my voice softening.
She glanced up at me, and for a second, I saw something vulnerable in her eyes—though she tried hard to cover it up with her usual sass. “Peachy. I just don’t like... jump scares.”
I chuckled, pulling her a little closer. “You’re safe with me, remember?”
She raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, I remember. I just don’t know if that means I should trust you or not.”
“Smart girl,” I said, keeping my voice low as we rounded the next corner. “But for what it’s worth, I’ve got your back. Even in haunted houses run by PTA moms.”
Her laughter broke the tension, and as we moved deeper into the haunted schoolhouse, I made it my mission to distract her. Whether that meant making jokes about the ridiculous decorations, teasing her about her various “allergies,” or pretending to be grumpy every time she jumped at a fake skeleton, it worked.
By the time we reached the final room, she was clinging to me but laughing just as much as she was gasping, and the flush on her cheeks had less to do with fear and more to do with how much fun we were having.
The air in this room was thickest with fog, and the dim lights flickered along the faux cracks in the walls. The music was louder now, too, and the sound echoed off the concrete floors.
It was clearly the event’s grand finale, but all I could focus on was the way Dakota’s fingers had relaxed around my arm as she laughed at something I’d said about the low-budget decorations.
“I think that skeleton over there owes me five bucks,” I joked, nodding toward a plastic skeleton propped in the corner, its jaw hanging open in a frozen scream. “I loaned it to him for the poker game with the Wine Club ladies last night.”
Dakota snorted. “Ah, so you’ve heard about the Book Club’s real name, huh?”
“Yeah, I’m a regular Charlotte Oakian with all I know now.”
She giggled, but then it kind of trailed off and died.
I cleared my throat, steering us away from that weird turn in the conversation. “I’m just saying, if they’re going for scary, they might wanna invest in a little more than spirit store leftovers.”
Before she could respond, the fog thickened, rolling across the floor in heavy waves, making it harder to see more than a few feet ahead. The eerie glow of red lights bounced off the haze, and I noticed the path in front of us splitting into two corridors.
Phoebe and Austin were already well ahead, their voices echoing somewhere in the distance as they disappeared around a corner. I glanced down at Dakota, expecting to see her usual playful smirk, but instead, I caught the brief flash of uncertainty in her eyes as she glanced between the two paths.
“Great,” she muttered, biting her lip. “Which way?”
I grinned, leaning down just enough to whisper in her ear. “Use your gut. One way leads to a safe exit, and one drops us into a pit of PTA vampires.”
Dakota rolled her eyes, but I could feel her laughter bubbling beneath the surface. “Let’s go left. I think that’s where Austin and Phoebe went.”
“Left it is.”
We started down the path, the fog growing denser with each step. But as we rounded a corner, the lights flickered again, casting strange shadows across the walls. Then, without warning, a figure in a tattered cloak jumped out of the mist, letting out a high-pitched screech that echoed off the walls.
Dakota let out a startled yelp, jumping back instinctively—right into a separate corridor.
I laughed, but the sound barely lasted a second before the figure blocked my path before disappearing into the fog.
“Dakota?” I called out, taking a step forward, my voice half-amused, half-curious. “You good?”
There was no answer—just the sound of her footsteps retreating down the other hallway, muffled by the fog.
I waited for a beat, expecting her to circle back around or shout something sarcastic in return. But when no reply came, I frowned, realizing she’d gone further than I thought.
I was sure she wasn’t too far ahead. Not in this homemade indoor maze. I wasn’t worried—not really. This wasn’t a high-end production at a famous theme park with actors trained in the art of actual terror. Dakota was just around the next corner. Probably waiting to get back at me for all the teasing.
“Wildcard,” I called out again, this time with full-on amusement in my voice. “You’re not gonna scare me, you know that, right?”
Still no answer.
I rubbed the back of my neck, chuckling to myself. She was probably enjoying this, making me come after her. “Okay, so this is your plan, huh? Get me lost in low-budget haunted house purgatory?”
I started down another hallway, my steps slow and deliberate, my eyes scanning through the fog as the path twisted and turned. The walls felt a little narrower here, the lights dimmer. She couldn’t have gotten far. There was no way she was actually freaked out enough to bolt.
Was there?
The thought made me grin. “Dakota, if you’re trying to get me to chase you, you could’ve just asked.”
But as I continued walking, the hallway stretched on a little longer than I’d expected. The fog made everything hazy, and it was hard to tell if I’d taken a wrong turn somewhere.
Still, no worry. Just mild confusion.
I rounded another corner, only to be met with an empty hallway, the lights flickering above. “Really? You’re gonna make me work for it?”
I chuckled to myself, but as I took a few more steps forward, something unexpected pierced the fog.
A scream.
And not just any scream—a bone-chilling, blood-curdling scream for help that sounded like it came from deep within the maze.
My heart leaped into my throat. “Dakota?”
The scream came again, more desperate this time, and I felt every nerve in my body go on high alert. Without thinking, I bolted toward the sound, my boots pounding against the floor as I darted through the fog-filled corridors. My mind raced with worst-case scenarios: Dakota, hurt, trapped, terrified. The cheesy haunted house suddenly didn’t feel so low-budget anymore.
“Dakota!” I shouted, my voice echoing through the maze.
Another scream, louder this time.
I sped up, my pulse pounding in my ears as I rounded the next corner, following the sound as it grew more frantic. “I’m coming! I’ve got you!” I called out, my voice more serious now, all traces of teasing gone.
Then, finally, I burst through the fog and stumbled into the source of the screams. But it wasn’t Dakota.
It was... Gertie?
There she was, frozen in terror, staring down one of the cheap, motion-activated skeletons with glowing red eyes. And she was screaming— literally screaming the word “help”—like a terrified woman.
I blinked in disbelief. Gertie, the freaking pygmy goat, was standing in the middle of the haunted house, making the most human-sounding scream I’d ever heard in my life.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, running a hand over my face as I tried to get my breathing under control.
Gertie let out another ear-piercing cry for help, her eyes wide with fear as she stared at the skeleton, completely petrified. I couldn’t help but laugh. There I was, running through this stupid broken-down school, actual icy fear coating the back of my neck, thinking Dakota was in trouble… and it was all for the pint-sized family goat.
I crouched down, approaching her slowly so I wouldn’t spook her even more. “Alright, alright, calm down. It’s just a plastic Halloween prop. Nothing to be afraid of.”
She let out a terrified wail, her little hooves rooted to the spot.
“Come on, Gertie, you’re embarrassing yourself,” I grumbled, reaching out and slipping an arm under her. She was small, but her legs flailed like she was trying to fight me off.
Her movements were completely futile considering the size of my hands relative to her entire body, and tucked her into my arms without incident. “Okay, girl, you’re safe with me, too, apparently. Let’s get you out of here before you give me another heart attack.”
With Gertie starting to relax in my arms, I trudged through the fog, my heart rate finally calming down as I realized how ridiculous this whole thing was. I thought I’d been rushing to Dakota’s rescue—whether from real or imagined danger, I hadn’t known—but now I was carrying a goat through a not-at-all-haunted schoolhouse.
Who am I, and what has this town done to me?
I wandered around, trying to find my way to the exit, relieved when I heard muffled voices. Laughter, even. I followed the encouraging sounds, weaving through the hallways until, at long last, I found the way out.
And there they were—all three of them.
Dakota, Phoebe, and Austin stood outside the old schoolhouse, casually munching on candy apples like they’d been there all day. They were huddled together by a booth in the parking lot, completely oblivious to the fact that I’d just risked life and limb—okay, that was a little dramatic—on a rescue mission through a haunted house.
I strolled up, still cradling the goat, and stared at them, my brows raised in disbelief. “Seriously?”
Dakota turned. “What took you so long?” she asked after a beat, her mouth full of a candy apple, standing there so casually it was almost as if she hadn’t just vanished into the fog.
My jaw clenched as I set Gertie down, her hooves tapping against the pavement. She seemed no worse for wear now that she was safely away from the horrors inside.
“What took me so long?” I repeated, glancing between them and the goat. “What took me so long is that I thought I was saving your life.”
Dakota blinked, her brow furrowing as she exchanged a confused glance with Phoebe. “Uh, from what?”
“From this.” I gestured to Gertie, who had now started nibbling on a piece of apple that’d fallen from Austin’s hand. “I heard a woman screaming for help, and naturally, I assumed it was you... Turns out, it was this drama queen.”
My little brother burst out laughing, nearly dropping his candy apple for the goat to enjoy. “Wait, Gertie? You thought Dakota was Gertie?”
Phoebe doubled over, barely able to contain her giggles as Dakota’s confused expression morphed into an amused grin. “Wow, you seriously think I would sound like a goat if I needed help?”
I scowled at all of them, trying to maintain at least a little bit of dignity. “No—I don’t know. It was more that I thought the goat sounded like you... screaming for help.”
This only made Austin laugh harder, and even Dakota’s eyes started to glisten with unshed tears of amusement. She reached into the bag she was holding, pulling out a perfectly candied apple. “Well, hero, I guess you’ve earned this, huh?”
I took the apple from her, staring down at it like I wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or even more embarrassed. Gertie bleated again, sidling up next to me like she was expecting me to protect her from anything from now on.
Dakota stepped closer, her smile softening as she bumped me with her shoulder. “In all seriousness, I appreciate you comin’ after me, even if it did turn out to be... well, Gertie.”
I sighed, running a hand through my hair and glancing down at the apple. It did look good.
Austin wiped a tear from his eye, finally catching his breath. “I’m just imagining you sprinting through that haunted house, thinking Dakota’s in danger, and then just... Gertie .”
Phoebe grinned, finally regaining her composure. “So... did you carry her all the way out?”
“Of course I did,” I muttered, feeling the heat rise in my face. “What else was I supposed to do? Leave her there to scream her lungs out and scare some other unsuspecting fool?”
Dakota let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You know, for all your tough-guy talk, you’re really just a big softy, aren’t you?”
I shot her a look, half-serious. “Don’t push it.”
She grinned wider, stepping closer as she leaned in and whispered, “Admit it—you’re Gertie’s knight in shining armor now.”
I groaned, taking a bite of the apple she’d handed me, hoping the crunch would cover my frustration. “If you ever tell anyone about this, I’ll deny everything.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a wink. “This one’s just between us... and the entire town. These things have a way of gettin’ around no matter who promises to keep their lips zipped.”
Phoebe nodded eagerly, already pulling out her phone. “Look at the bright side: Gertie finally has a new nickname. It’s been a while.”
“Oh yeah? What’s the nickname?”
“Princess Gertie. Ya know, since you’re her knight in shining armor.”
I shot them all a glare, but it was no use. “You’re never gonna let me live this down, are you?” I muttered, taking another bite of the apple.
Dakota leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek before stepping back with a grin. “Not a chance, hero.”
And just like that, the embarrassment faded, replaced by something warmer, deeper. Because honestly? I’d rescue goats all day long if it meant seeing her smile like that. Not that she was stingy with those smiles. In fact, I hadn’t been around any woman who smiled at me that much—or made me smile at all—in a very long time.