He holds up a hand. “I promise, Willow. I’m not going to make a sound.”
“I know. I believe you,” I say softly. “I just want you to be comfortable.” I don’t want him to feel like a criminal I’m trying to hide away. Even though…that’s exactly what I’m doing, isn’t it? Hiding him.
He’s not a bad person.
A tender smile touches his eyes. “Believe me, I’m the most comfortable I’ve been in a long time.”
His words hoist my spirits, and we both quiet when the porch door creaks open. He nods me on with his chin. Silently saying,go be with your family.
What does it say about me, if I really just want to stay right here?
My feet, heavy like cement blocks, shuffle towards the door.
* * *
Rain slams on the deck, the pitch-black night creating an eerie feeling in the living room. The perfect atmosphere for a slumber party—which Rose Calloway has turned into a séance. Leather furniture is pushed against wide, floor-length windows to open up the space.
I cross my legs on a red bear-patterned rug and try to enjoy the evening. It’s hard with the storm outside and my brain all the way back in my room.
My mind is on a 24/7 news cycle of Garrison Abbey. It’s just…I haven’t had much opportunity to check up on him. At least, not as much as I’d like. And I’m trying to stay in the moment and enjoy these gatherings. Many people wouldkillto playlight-as-a-feather, stiff-as-aboardwith the Calloway sisters.
I did just that.
The game ended with Ryke (who we were lifting) crashing down on Rose. Now we all sit in a circle, candles lit in the middle. It’d be scarier if we were trying to contact a demon or something. But Rose and her sisters just want to talk to their Old Aunt Margot, so it seems harmless.
That’s what I’m telling myself.
A storm rages, thunder booming. It’d tag the mood asdramaticandfrightening.
New eulogy:that Willow Moore, what a chicken—afraid of some raindrops.Hugging my arms around my body, I watch the candles flicker.
Coconut howls from the kitchen, paws padding along the floorboards. Daisy goes rigid, and her head whips around the living room quickly. Like she’s trying to mentally scan each nook and cranny.
I frown, worried that the dark, storm, and tiny bumps and bangs aren’t good for her PTSD.
Ryke pulls Daisy closer to him, his lips beside her ear, whispering. She seems to relax a little at his words.
My lip nearly lifts, happy that she has someone like Ryke who cares. The thought makes me glance up towards the balconies.
Garrison.
I hope he’s okay.
“Aunt Margot it is,” Rose declares, pulling the attention back to herself. I think, maybe purposefully. That’s just the kind of sister Rose is. She knows when to command the spotlight when others want to dip out of it. “Let’s all hold hands.” She extends her palm to me, and I take it.
Lily, Loren, Connor, Ryke, and Daisy complete the circle. The babies, Maximoff and Jane, are safe in their cribs upstairs.
“Close your eyes,” Rose instructs.
My eyelids shut, darkness cocooning me.
“Aunt Margot,” Rose begins the séance. “We’re calling you, Aunt Margot.” Rain hammers violently, the wind picking up. Goosebumps dot my arms. “We miss your beautiful, lost soul. Please come to us.”
Lo chuckles, and it’s practically contagious.
My lips threaten to rise, but I smooth them down.
Rose continues like Lo didn’t ruin anything. “Fight through the barrier of the afterlife so that we may speak with you.”
