Chapter 7
Ever
It’s perfect.
You know, if I ignore the fact that it might be haunted.
“The den,” Ellis says with a flourish of his arm, and I nearly trip down the three steps into the recessed area in my excitement.
There aren’t any windows in here, shelving built into the longest wall.
I’m already creating a mental shopping list, but I’m pretty sure I can transform the space into my dream gaming setup for less than a grand since I already have the computer and monitors.
A new chair would be amazing, though. A glance up at the ceiling and I add a stepladder and polyfill to the list. I’ve always wanted to try my hand at one of those cloud ceilings with LED strips inside to give it that rolling electric storm look in fun colors.
And now, there’s nothing stopping me. No landlord.
No roommate. I can do whatever I want with my house.
Goosebumps appear across my skin as ghostly fingers caress my arm, and I head back to where Ellis is waiting with a shiver. “There are TV dinners in the freezer,” he continues as we reach the kitchen. “Nothing glamorous, but they’ll get you by for a week as you get your feet under you.”
Sleek stainless steel appliances, black and silver-flecked countertops, and hardwood floors have me swooning, but guilt is a close second. A kitchen this nice is completely wasted on me; I can’t cook for shit. But now I can burn things in style.
The rest of the place is equally as impressive.
A stone fireplace in the living room, full bathroom next to a laundry room on the first floor so I won’t have to deal with hauling baskets up and down from the finished basement that I’m going to transform into a tech workshop.
After all, I only have to finalize the controller for my game system before it’s out of my hands.
Soon, I’m going to need a new project to distract me from my pathetic life.
“Bedrooms upstairs then?”
Ellis gives me a mischievous grin and gestures to the staircase. “Why don’t you take a look?”
“After you.” I’m not crazy about having him at my back, no matter how friendly and helpful he’s been.
Everything about this house is too good to be true, and it’s making me nervous.
How can a place like this go for so cheap?
Maybe someone was brutally murdered in their bed, and that’s why it feels like I’m being watched.
All these little ghostly nudges are warnings to get the hell out of here before I get locked in a room with the rest of the realtor’s skeletons and starve to death.
Okay, that’s a stretch even for me. Sleep deprivation isn’t doing me any favors after the rollercoaster of stress.
“What do you think?” he asks, stepping aside after opening the only door at the top of the stairs.
Changed my mind, I don’t care if an entire family was butchered here. I need this house.
The entire second floor is one giant bedroom.
Off to the side is a walk-in closet big enough for five people, and on the opposite wall is an attached bathroom straight out of my dreams. A bath the size of a hot tub is recessed into the floor like a pool, and the shower is big enough for company.
Everything’s done in light shades of stone; greys, blues, and sandstone, giving it a clean, river rock feel.
It’s all the best parts of outside without ever having to leave the house.
Another cool brush of invisible fingers caress my jaw that actually sets me at ease, things clicking into my brain in a way I can make my peace with.
Everything about this place, this town, seems too good to be true.
If the catch is I get to live in my dream house rent free for three months, but it’s haunted?
Seems like a fair trade.
Returning to the bedroom, I take in the absolutely ridiculously sized bed, already dreading changing the sheets. How the hell did they even get this monstrosity through the door?
At the end of the bed is a cardboard box I missed at first glance. “Do you know where the previous owner moved? I can ship whatever they left behind sometime this week.”
Ellis chuckles. “No, no, my dear, every house comes with a care package. Most people moving here are running away from their problems, so many show up with only the clothes on their back. It’s why you don’t start paying rent for a couple of months; to give you a chance to get your life in order.
It’s not much, but a few items to help get you by. ”
As he talks, he unloads the box, laying things out on the bed. A brand new mattress cover, toothbrush and toothpaste, hairbrush, shampoo, etcetera. My stomach twists. Most of the foster homes I ended up in didn’t even try this hard.
“If you run out of food and still haven’t found a job, contact city hall and they’ll help you out.
Probably will slot you into the first available position to get you by while you look for something better, but nobody here’s going to let you starve.
” He pulls the curtain aside on one of the windows before breaking into a broad grin and waggling his eyebrows at me.
“You won the neighbor lottery, too. Could show up on their doorstep with an empty plate every night, and I guaran-damn-tee they’d load it up for you without batting an eye. ”
Do people really do shit like that? Just waltz over to their neighbors and expect handouts? How would you even start a conversation like that without coming across like an entitled asshole? “Oh, hey, I’m your new neighbor. Smells good, here’s an empty plate. Fill it up, will ya?”
I could never.
“Okay, where do I sign my soul away?”
Twenty minutes and a wicked hand cramp later, I hand him back his pen and the stack of papers.
“Here, this has all the information you need.” He passes over a thick manilla envelope.
“Where to pay utilities and the billing start dates, when trash pick up is, a town map, different resources, all that good stuff. My business card is in there in case you have any questions or problems as well.”
“Internet?”
“You’ll get something in the mail in the next few days with the new network name and password. At the latest, a week.”
I nod, but internally weep. A week without internet? I’m going to have to camp out at the library or the nearest coffee shop with free WIFI to get my fix.
Then again, I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with the onslaught of messages. I may have blocked Adam, but I’m not an idiot; he’s missing out on a massive payday by losing me as a client. I wouldn’t be surprised if he created new social media accounts to message me.
A few days off grid to settle in might not be a bad idea, actually.
Rising from the table, he shakes my hand and passes over the keys to my new life. “Welcome to Mercy Ridge, Ever. And good luck.”
With that ominous statement, he leaves, closing the front door behind him. The sound echoes around the empty space, cementing the fact I’m completely alone here. In a house bigger than I could have ever dreamed of, and it’s mine.
“I’m really doing this.” I clench my fist around the key ring, metal teeth digging into my palm, and as reality creeps in, I hold them a little tighter. I only have two keys to the house. If I lose this keychain, I’m fucked.
First thing’s first, I take one off the ring and add it to my normal set of keys.
The other, I tuck into my wallet. No point making copies when I’m going to get the locks changed ASAP.
Ellis seems nice, but I don’t really know him, and I'm sure he has a back-up set of keys for every house in town if he’s the only realtor.
Until I can get the locks changed, I’ll be jumping at every little noise, wondering if he or someone that the previous owners gave a spare key to is creeping around.
A wave of exhaustion hits me hard, but I shove away from the kitchen counter with a groan before I can cave into the desire to pass out on top of it.
Heading out to the car, I grab my backpack and triple check that everything valuable is covered in case anyone looks through the windows.
I’m running on fumes and just don’t have it in me to unload everything tonight, but I can at least minimize the risk of getting my SUV broken into.
Slinging my backpack on, I set the alarm, but I’m not overly worried.
This neighborhood is way nicer than any I’ve lived in before, and if my next door neighbor is comfortable leaving the windows down on his truck without fear someone’s going to steal the radio out of it?
I’m fairly confident I can safely procrastinate until tomorrow to unload my car.
Once inside, I go through my usual routine when in a new place.
Ridiculous or not, some habits are hard to shake, and years of dealing with cruel foster siblings and creepy adults have given me enough reasons to trust my instincts.
The main one? Better safe than sorry. I’d rather someone call me paranoid and crazy than wake up to someone trying to shave my head ever again.
Kids can be real assholes when they’re hiding under that ‘minor’ bullshit to get away with a slap on the wrist.
After all of the doors and window locks have been triple checked, I add a couple small traps.
Nothing that will stop anyone, but for peace of mind.
Tape strips on the windows, so even if someone snuck in and out, they wouldn’t be able to reset it as they left, and I’d know someone used it.
Same with a pile of salt at the doors. Discreet enough that someone won’t notice it in the dark, but obvious if disturbed by the door swinging open.
And again, they wouldn’t be able to reset it on their way out if they used a key to sneak into the house.