Chapter 27
“I am packed and ready to go!” Taylor pans her phone’s camera over the suitcase and carry-on stacked in the corner of her room.
I squint at her on my screen. “You still have three days.”
“I couldn’t wait any longer. I’m too excited to squeeze you.”
I smile. Sometimes, I need to hear that she misses me as much as I miss her. “How many things did you put in there that you’re actually going to need before you leave?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
We both laugh.
Taylor leans her face closer to the camera so her nose now takes up most of the screen. “Any more ghost activity?” she whispers.
After the doll incident, and our conversation with Loretta last week, I felt like I had to let Taylor and Nadya know what was going on.
It did not seem like good host etiquette to surprise them with a restless spirit.
Taylor had simply stared at me, bug-eyed, through the phone before finally declaring, “Anything that has you believing in ghosts, I need to witness for myself.”
She was supremely bummed when I insisted that there was no way I was freeing the dolls from the closet in the den.
“Nope. Things have been quiet for the last few days.” Enough so that I’ve stopped bunking with Mom in the living room.
Which, thank god, because she was starting to get a little too suspicious about why I was still sleeping out there.
I can’t imagine how many doctors she’d have me seeing if I told her the truth.
Taylor grins. “Clearly the spirit is resting so she can give me a big show when we get there.”
I roll my eyes. I don’t know what Mercy’s doing, but her inactivity has put me more on edge. I keep waiting to be swallowed by a shadow or fall through a hole in the floor or have my dolls tie me up in yarn in the middle of the night.
Theo says I’ve watched too many bad horror movies, and I think he might be right.
Taylor’s eyes narrow. “Then what about the boy? How’s that going?”
“He’s fine. We’re fine.” I try to sound upbeat.
“Sure. Sure. Now tell me the truth.” I never could get a lie by Taylor.
I flop down on my beanbag chair and sigh dramatically. “I made things weird.”
“What happened?”
I fill Taylor in on that night at Theo’s house last week, how I panicked and then couldn’t tell him the full truth when we talked. “Now I am completely in my head and don’t know how to act around him.”
Her face settles into a more serious expression than I usually see her wear. “You know you never have to do anything you’re not ready for—with Theo or anyone else. Right?”
“I know.” I let my body sink deeper into the chair. Maybe it can swallow me instead of Mercy’s ghost and I won’t have to keep dwelling on this thing with Theo every second I’m conscious. “He wasn’t pressuring me or anything. It’s me. I don’t know if I know what I’m ready for. If that makes sense?”
“What scares you so much?”
I groan. “That I’ll do something wrong. Or that he won’t want to be with me anymore if he finds out that I have no experience in any of this dating stuff.”
“If he’s as great as you say he is, he’s not going to care.”
Rationally, I know she’s right. The same way Arden was right when they said the same thing while we were thrifting. But I can’t get myself to believe it. It’s so much easier to imagine he’s two seconds and one wrong word from ditching me.
Like Marjorie.
Like my father.
“As far as doing something wrong, your body will know what to do when you’re ready.” A smirk creeps up Taylor’s lips. “There’s also tons of tutorials online.”
“I am not watching porn, Taylor.”
“For academic purposes.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“I love you,” she yells as I hit the end button.
I wonder if it’s too late to rescind her invitation to visit.
Wiggling up into a sitting position, I glance around the den.
It’s packed tight with all my boxes and furniture from the old house, plus everything Arden and I have found for upstairs.
Thank god Mr. Hargrave finally gave me the okay to start storing things in the big bedroom or there’d never be enough room for anyone to sleep on the floor.
Arden’s on their way over to help me move stuff, but I decide to get a head start. I want everything perfect for when Taylor and Nadya arrive.
The symphony of construction sounds grows louder as I make my way through the house. The buzz of power tools and the clunk of hammers and the rhythm of footsteps, all threaded through with voices trying to be heard over noise-canceling headphones.
Those home improvement shows Mom loves to watch on HGTV are lies. Big, fat lies. Renovations are not fun. Or relaxing. There’s no running off to a spa or swanky hotel for a few days while someone makes your home beautiful. It’s weeks and weeks and weeks of unending chaos and noise and messes.
So many messes.
When this is over, I’m writing someone at that network a letter. They need new programming that actually prepares us for this. It should be gritty and dark and full of characters who can’t keep to their spreadsheets.
I can barely see over the giant box of throw pillows I’m carrying up the stairs, so of course I run right into Theo as he comes out of the second-floor bathroom. He grunts at our collision.
He’s wearing his painting overalls again, only this time they’re covered in smears of grout from the bathroom tile he’s been laying all morning.
“Let me get this.” He lifts the box out of my hands before I can argue. “Oof.” He pretends he can barely hold it up. “How did you manage to lift this by yourself?”
Smirking, I flex my nonexistent muscles at him, then wave him toward the bedroom.
As soon as he sets the box down beside the door, he catches my hand and pulls me deeper into the room.
“What are you—” His hands slip my glasses into my hair, and I forget what I was going to say. I’m already rising up on my tiptoes to meet his lips when he cups my cheeks.
It’s become so easy to let myself get lost in the gentle feel of his mouth on mine. The solid press of his body. The warmth of his skin.
Eventually I have to break away to fill my lungs. “Your brother is right down the hall,” I whisper. My head tips forward so my forehead rests against his chest.
“Who cares?”
“I don’t want him giving you shit again about not working. Especially with your dad up here too.” Theo already has enough trouble getting his father to take him seriously.
He uses his thumb to angle my chin up. “Jesse is going to give me shit no matter what I’m doing.” A sly grin ticks at the corner of his mouth. “So I’d rather be doing this.” Then he’s kissing me again, and I’m letting him.
Because I’d rather be doing this too.
Ever since that night at his house, he’s very careful about where he lets his hands settle on me. Mostly they cradle my face, or his fingers weave through mine. Every once in a while, I’ll feel his palms, light as air, ghost over my waist.
But the deeper he kisses me, the more I sink into him, and the more I ache for the weight of his palms on my hips or my back drawing me closer to him. I think I might even want him to touch me the way he did at his house.
That thought snaps me out of the haze summoned by his mouth on mine. I brace my hands gently on his chest to put a little bit of distance between us.
“Do you have your EMF meter?” I ask.
He blinks at me like he doesn’t understand.
I nod toward the closet. “We should see if there’s still energy up here. Mercy’s been so quiet the past few days.”
Clearing his throat, he takes a step back. His brow is furrowed, and he rubs his hand over his face. “Uh, it’s in my truck.”
“Can you grab it on your next break?”
“Sure.”
I lift up on my toes again and kiss his cheek, then, calling out “Thanks,” hurry out of the room.
The last thing I need is for his dad or Jesse to discover me groping him (or letting him grope me). At that point, I’d be joining Mercy as a spirit haunting the Harlow Homestead because I would most definitely drop dead of embarrassment.
That’s what I tell myself the whole way back to the den. It was the lack of privacy. Not the swirl of nerves in my stomach, or the rush of my heartbeat, or the tornado of thoughts in my head.
A few minutes later, Arden shows up, providing me with a much-needed distraction.
“Are there outlets in the closet?” they ask as they balance a box of knickknacks on their knees.
“I have no idea.” Checking for electrical outlets never even occurred to me. “But I bet Theo’s dad can add one if we need. Why?”
They shrug. “I was thinking the shelves would look awesome lined with fairy lights.”
“We certainly have enough.” I accidentally bought them in bulk online. I shove the oversized box toward Arden with my foot. I could probably cover every inch of every wall in this house with lights and still have some left over for Christmas decorations.
They push the box aside. “I shall raid these later. First, there’s work to be done.” They adjust the box in their arms, grunting under the weight. “Ready?”
I gather another bunch of accent pillows.
“Right behind you.”
We trudge through the house and up the stairs. Twice, I tell Arden to leave that heavy box for Theo or Matt, but they mumble something about gender constructs and soldier on.
At the end of the hall, Jesse and two workers have set up sawhorses to cut molding.
I can hear other people in the far bedrooms, and when I glance in the bathroom, Theo’s back to grouting tile over the sink.
Our eyes meet, and a million worries swarm my mind like mosquitoes.
He must be so annoyed with me for the EMF meter thing.
What if he thinks I don’t like kissing him anymore?
Or that I don’t feel the same about him? What if I ruined this?
I force a smile, and he returns it, but that furrow still pleats his brow. I turn my back on him to guide Arden into the big bedroom.
As soon as we unload our arms, we head for the closet.
They step in first, their fists on their hips as they inspect the space. “We could outline all the shelves with lights if you want. Or…” They pause to survey the layout again.
The overhead light doesn’t quite reach the back of the closet, forcing Arden to venture deeper inside.
They half disappear into the darkness, like they’re entering a cave.
It creeps me out enough that I make a mental note to ask Theo if I need to add more lights or a stronger bulb or something.
Otherwise, those last few shelves are going to display nothing but dust.
Arden leans their shoulder against the wall, directly under the spot that once held Mercy’s portrait. The first thing Theo did this morning was cover over the cubbyhole, but I can still spot the outline of the opening beneath the spackle.
Arden drums their fingers on their nose. “It might make more sense to just line—” Their voice cuts off abruptly, like someone snipped the end of their sentence with a sharp pair of scissors.
I squint into the dark. “Line them with what?”
Silence.
“Arden?” It doesn’t look like they’re moving. I fumble my phone out of my pocket and toggle on the flashlight.
They stand in the right corner of the closet. Even when the light engulfs them, they don’t move. Their spine is unnaturally rigid, and their arms are glued to their sides. The muscles in their cheeks and jaw twitch uncontrollably.
“Are you okay?” I step a little closer and press my hand to Arden’s arm. Is this what a seizure looks like? I try to remember if they ever mentioned being epileptic. Should I be calling 911? Shoving something in their mouth so they don’t bite their tongue?
“Theo! Mr. Hargrave!” I don’t know what else to do but call for help.
Taking a deep breath, I raise the light higher to see if Arden’s pupils are dilated. I feel like I read somewhere that happens during a seizure.
I see it as I shine my flashlight on my friend, and with a gasp, I stumble back until I am outside the closet.
A shadow surrounds Arden’s frame, and the light is doing nothing to break it up.
This isn’t a seizure. This is Mercy Harlow.
“Theo!” I yell louder.
He rushes in a second later. “What’s wrong?”
“Arden.” I point dumbly ahead of me. It’s only as I lift my phone to help Theo see in the dark that I realize the shadow is gone.
Theo grabs Arden’s arm and pulls them forward into the room’s natural light. Then he lowers them to the ground.
At first, nothing happens. Arden keeps twitching. Their expression remains lifeless, their eyes staring ahead into nothing.
My heart screams in my chest and I want to do the same with my throat but no words will come out. I’m too panicked. I can only suck in deep breaths and watch Arden with wide eyes.
Something like a groan escapes their mouth, and then their body spasms, the movement traveling like a wave through each segment of their frame, as if some kind of nuclear-level chill is leaving them.
For a second, I’m certain I see a shadow spill from their fingertips like water, and my heart hiccups. Is that what happened to the dark spot on the wall? Did it go into Arden?
Arden sits up stiffly, and all I can think is they’re okay, they’re okay.
They rub at their eyes, then try to focus on my face. “What…” They clear their throat. “What the hell?”
“Oh my god.” I wrap them in a hug.
Their hands tap my back. I can feel their confusion in the movement.
“What happened?” Theo demands.
When I step away, Arden slowly shakes their head, making the icy-blue tips of their hair dance. “I don’t know. It felt…” They stop, swallowing hard. It almost seems like they don’t want to say.
“Arden…” I urge.
“It felt…” Their eyes cut to Theo. I don’t think I’ve seen Arden blink since they came out of their trance. “It felt like someone else was inside me.”