Falling into Forever - Delancey Stewart Page 0,49

the glare of the phone light, the darkness at the top looming as Michael led us forward. Scarier still, the noises continued as we approached in our socked feet.

At the top, Michael made a motion for us to stop, and I waited just behind Daniel, who seemed to have finally gained an appropriate level of fear about the fact that we were about to confront whatever was making all the noise up here. Michael swung his light around, and I heard him sigh heavily.

“Holy cow,” he said. “No ghosts, I don’t think. They’re gone, if they were here. And they must have been really mad. Or maybe they’re the spirits of messy toddlers. Come look.”

The attic, illuminated in the light of Michael’s phone, was a disaster. The boxes that had been stacked into the bookshelf had been pulled out, their contents flung wildly around the space. The dressmaker’s form, which had stood eerily in one corner, had been knocked over, and a jagged slash now ran the length of its torso.

What was all this? These ghosts weren’t just angry—they were furious! Was the dress form supposed to represent me? My blood iced and my breathing became shallow.

“Creepy,” Daniel said, his voice full of awe.

There was also a smell that permeated the space, something that reminded me of wet dog. I tried to slow my breathing. Hyperventilating would only let me smell more of the fetid perfume the ghosts had left.

“Do ghosts have a smell?” I asked, trying to remember if that was something I’d heard, along the lines of haunted spaces feeling chillier than the rest of a room.

“I guess so,” Michael said.

There were no ghosts here now, but clearly something or someone had been here. We had proof. I wasn’t crazy. But a search of the house revealed—unsurprisingly—nothing at all.

17

Drool Can be Sexy

Michael

Our late night adventures might have led to a late morning sleeping in, only the sun streaming in through the filmy bedroom windows had us stirring at the crack of seven.

I watched Addie for a few minutes, lying on my side on the floor not far from her bed. The morning light was illuminating her golden skin, and her dark hair spread across the pillow. Her dark lashes fanned across her cheeks, and her lips were rosy as she frowned the tiniest bit in her sleep. The tiniest little drizzle of drool left a dark spot on her pillow, and something about that—about seeing something that reminded me that for all of her seeming perfection, she was very human—it made me feel closer to her.

The dark eyes fluttered open as I watched, and I rolled to my back, stretching and trying hard to pretend I hadn’t just been watching her sleep like some kind of creeper.

“Morning,” she said softly, her voice still dreamy.

“Good morning,” I said.

She glanced at Daniel, who lay sprawled, arms flung over his head, one leg kicked free of his sleeping bag.

“He won’t be up for hours,” I told her. “His record is two p.m.”

“Wow.” She chuckled and sat up, stretching her arms overhead in a way that made her long-sleeved T-shirt pull across her chest. I forced my eyes away as she slid from her bed, still in the sweats she’d worn to watch the movie. They were casual and cute, and I had a fleeting feeling that we were playing house, that maybe this is how it would be if we were really together. Not the waking in separate beds part, but waking up together, getting to see one another in those pre-breakfast moments when we are all just human.

“Shall we knock out the rest of the floors?” She asked. “I’ve totally mastered that sander. Made it my bitch yesterday.”

“Oh really?” I asked, laughing at that statement coming out of this particular woman’s mouth.

“Totally.”

“Breakfast first. Coffee,” I said, wishing I could pop out of bed feeling ready to conquer the world. But I was fueled on caffeine, and there wasn’t much to be done about that.

“Meet you in the kitchen in ten,” she said. And the most impressive thing about Addie Tanner? She let me have the bathroom first.

Ten minutes later, I entered the kitchen, embraced by the scent of coffee and the sight of Addie at the sink, holding a mug and gazing out the window at the side yard.

“Those floors look good,” I told her. I’d walked through the parlor and foyer again before coming into the kitchen. Addie had done a good job. “You weren’t kidding about telling that

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