16. Presley
Presley
I stare down at the form in annoyance.
I’ve read the same paragraph three times and still have no idea what it says.
“This is ridiculous. It’s a simple form telling me the title, author, and genre.”
Penny looks up from her bed behind the counter.
“I can’t concentrate.”
She stares at me.
“It was just lunch. With a man. People do that every day.”
Penny’s tail thumps.
“A slightly terrifying, very attractive man.”
Her tail moves faster.
“And you apparently love Hades.”
At the sound of his name—or maybe just because she knows I'm talking to her—Penny gets to her feet and runs out from behind the counter, as though checking to see if he’s here.
I shake my head. “He’s not here, Penny.”
She stretches, front paws extending across the floor, then trots toward me.
I scoop her up. “You know, you're supposed to be on my side.”
She licks my chin.
“I’m taking that as an apology.”
“Talking to yourself already?”
I jump at the sound of Margaret’s voice.
She laughs as she comes around the corner carrying a stack of books.
“I was talking to Penny.”
“Of course.”
“She’s a great listener.”
“I’m sure she is.”
“Terrible with advice.”
She sets the books on the counter. “I believe that.”
Penny wags her tail.
Margaret reaches over to scratch beneath her chin. “Especially when discussing handsome men.”
My mouth falls open. “Were you eavesdropping?”
“I own a bookstore. Eavesdropping is one of the benefits.”
“That wasn't in the employee handbook.”
“You didn't get an employee handbook.”
“True.”
She laughs and begins sorting through the books.
I set Penny back down.
I'm already more comfortable at The Crooked Spine than I expected to be.
Yesterday, I worried I'd spend the entire shift asking stupid questions or putting books in the wrong places.
Today, I've helped customers find three novels, rung up purchases without accidentally crashing the register, and recommended a thriller to a woman who returned twenty minutes later to buy the sequel because she'd read the first chapter at the coffee shop and was already hooked.
Basically, I'm killing it.
Or at least not getting fired.
I’m counting that as a win.
My gaze drifts toward the front windows, scanning the street outside. Again.
Margaret smiles. “He's not out there.”
I give her an innocent look. “Who?”
Her eyebrows raise.
I look away before I crack. “I’m not looking for anyone.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I was just looking outside.”
She smirks. “At?”
“The weather.”
She turns toward the windows. Gray clouds cover the sky. “Fascinating.”
“Very.”
“Looks like weather.”
“Exactly.”
She laughs under her breath.
I pick up the stack of books and walk away before she can say anything else.
Unfortunately, putting distance between Margaret and me doesn't put any distance between Hades and my thoughts.
I keep thinking about lunch with him.
His eyes on me.
The way his mouth finally curved into a smile.
The rare flashes of humor beneath all that intensity.
The way he looked at me when I talked about Grandma.
And especially, the way he asked when he was going to see me again.
Not if.
When.
My stomach does an annoying little flip.
I shove a mystery novel onto the shelf harder than necessary. “Stop.”
A woman browsing two aisles over glances at me.
I smile awkwardly. “Sorry. Book wasn't cooperating.”
She nods slowly and turns away.
Great.
Two days on the job and a customer thinks I’m crazy for talking to myself.
I finish shelving the books and return to the counter.
My phone is tucked beneath it.
I absolutely do not check it.
I checked it eleven minutes ago.
My fingers wrap around it.
I look at the screen.
Nothing.
Which is fine. Hades and I didn't exchange numbers.
So there's literally no reason for him to text me.
I mean, how could he?
“I’m hopeless.”
Penny sighs from her bed.
“I know.”
I slide the phone back under the counter.
Maybe I'll see him tomorrow.
Or the next day.
He bought a romance novel. If nothing else, he'll have to come back eventually to tell me what he thought about it.
Unless he hates it.
What if he hates it?
What if he never comes back because I recommended a terrible book and single-handedly destroyed his budding interest in reading?
I stop.
Oh my God.
I’ve known this man for a couple of hours, and I’m already having an existential crisis over his reading habits.
“Busy tonight?” Margaret's question pulls me from my thoughts.
“Nope.”
She places a small cardboard display on the counter. “Then you should go.”
I look down.
A grinning jack-o'-lantern fills the top half. Beneath it are the words:
HOLLOW CREEK HALLOWEEN WEEK
I pick it up. “What's this?”
“You've never done Halloween Week?”
“I haven't lived here full-time in years.”
“Well, Hollow Creek has apparently decided one day of Halloween isn't enough.”
“Obviously.”
I scan the events. Pumpkin carving. Ghost tours. Costume contest. Outdoor movies. Something called a Haunted Hollow Walk that already sounds like an excellent way to get murdered.
And on Halloween night… my breath hitches.“A costume party?”
“Yup. The official end of all the festivities that week. Businesses stay open late. There’s music, food, and drinks. Basically, the whole downtown turns into one big weeklong party.”
“That sounds fun.”
“It is.”
My gaze moves down the flyer. “Costumes required?”
“Strongly encouraged.”
“Meaning?”
“You'll be judged if you don't wear one.”
I laugh. “Good to know.”
“The Crooked Spine closes at eight that night. That gives us time to enjoy some of the festivities.”
“Sounds amazing.”
“It’s a good time. And dogs are welcome at many of the events.”
I look down at Penny. “I guess I’ll have to find a costume for you.”
Margaret smiles. “I have some ideas. Also, check with Gracie about Halloween night. She said she’s skipping the festivities after Bramble closes to stay home with Walter. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having a friend to keep him company.”
“Oh. Yes, that’s a great idea.”
She walks away.
I look at the flyer again.
Halloween.
I haven't really thought about what I'm doing that night.
Grandma always loved Halloween. She'd hand out candy from the porch while wearing some ridiculous witch hat.
My gaze moves back to the costume-party information.
Maybe it'll be good for me.
Better than sitting alone in that huge house thinking about everything that's changed.
And maybe—
I stop myself.
“No.”
Penny's ears lift.
“I am not wondering whether Hades will be there.”
Her tail starts wagging.
“Oh, hush. I didn’t ask you for your opinion.”
I swear, Penny gloats at me.
By the time I get home, the gray clouds have turned darker.
Rain hasn't started yet, but it's coming. I can smell it in the air.
Penny races across the yard while I collect the mail. “Don't go too far.”
She ignores me and dives into a pile of leaves. Only her tail remains visible.
I laugh. “You're ridiculous.”
Her head emerges with a leaf stuck to her nose.
My heart squeezes. “Come here.”
She races toward me.
I crouch and remove the leaf before scratching behind her ears.
For the first time since Grandma died, today felt almost... normal.
Not completely. I don't think normal exists anymore.
Maybe that's the thing no one tells you about grief. You don't get your old life back. You build another one around the empty space.
The thought follows me onto the porch.
My gaze automatically lifts to the ghost. Still straight.
I stop. The uneasiness returns.
For most of today, I'd forgotten about it.
The bookstore kept me busy. Then Hades kept invading my thoughts.
But now I'm standing in front of the decoration that’s still perfectly straight. And I don’t remember doing it.
I’m fairly certain I didn’t.
I look toward the woods. Everything is quiet and still.
I force myself to relax. “Come on, Penny.”
We go inside.
I lock the door behind us.
The rain begins shortly after seven, tapping steadily against the windows.
I curl onto the couch beneath a blanket with Penny tucked against my thigh. A bowl of popcorn sits beside me. Candy fills another bowl on the coffee table.
I grab the remote and turn on the television.“What are we feeling?”
Penny chews on the leg of the stuffed bat.
“Comedy?”
She continues chewing.
“Romance?”
Nothing.
“Horror?”
Her head lifts.
I point at her. “You have terrible judgment.”
Her tail wags.
“Fine.”
I scroll until I find a channel having a horror movie marathon.
Perfect.
Nothing says emotionally stable woman living alone in a Victorian surrounded by woods like spending the evening watching people get slaughtered.
I hit play.
The opening music begins.
Penny adjusts her position against me, still chewing on her bat.
For the first twenty minutes, I'm completely invested.
Then a man appears on-screen. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark clothes.
My thoughts immediately go somewhere they shouldn't.
“Hades would make a good serial killer.”
I freeze.
Penny stops chewing her bat and looks up at me.
“I cannot believe I just said that.”
She just stares at me.
“Just by his appearance. That's what I meant.”
Sure, Presley.
His smoky eyes flash through my mind. That intense stare. The way he leaned closer during lunch.
I stop the thoughts before they go further.
I grab a handful of popcorn. “Why am I thinking about him?”
Penny's tail taps my leg.
“You're no help.”
On-screen, the killer steps from behind a tree. He's wearing a mask.
The woman sees him through her window.
My hand stops halfway to my mouth.
Something cold crawls over my skin.
For a second, I'm not seeing the movie.
I'm seeing my own window.
The movement in the woods.
The shadow I convinced myself was an animal.
The ghost I convinced myself was fixed by the wind.
Stop. Everything’s fine.
I focus on the television. “It's a movie.”
Penny looks at me.
“I feel like I’m going crazy.”
She continues staring.
“Don’t judge me.”
The masked man disappears from the screen.
The heroine approaches the window.
“Don't do it.”
She keeps walking.
“Seriously. Don't.”
She pulls back the curtain.
I tense.
Nothing is there.
I release the breath I didn't realize I was holding.
Then the masked man slams against the glass.
I scream. Popcorn flies everywhere. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
Penny launches off the couch, barking.
My heart pounds.
She races toward the window.
“Penny!”
She stops several feet from it. Her body goes rigid.
My smile disappears. “Penny?”
A low growl rumbles from her as she stares at the window.
Every hair on my arms rises. “No.”
She growls again.
I stare at the rain-soaked pane.
The movie continues playing. Someone screams.
I grab the remote and pause it.
Silence settles over the room.
Penny doesn't move.
Neither do I.
Then something cracks outside.
Probably a branch.
My gaze remains locked on the dark, blurry window.
Stay where you are.
I know better than to investigate. I've literally spent the last hour yelling at fictional women for doing exactly this.
Penny growls again.
I slowly push the blanket from my lap.
“This is how people die in horror movies.”
Her ears remain pointed toward the window.
I stand. “Which means we're absolutely not investigating.”
I reach over and scoop Penny up. She squirms in my arms, trying to look over my shoulder.
“Nope.”
I carry her back to the couch. “We are intelligent women.”
She looks at me.
“Mostly.”
I sit down and pull the blanket around us.
My eyes drift toward the window.
Nothing moves.
No mask appears.
Eventually Penny relaxes, and so do I. Mostly.
I start the movie again.
And try not to think about what could be outside in the rainy darkness.