Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 73683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Why is that?” I asked, tossing a look over at her before returning my eyes to the road.
I mean, if I thought I was living in a haunted house like I’d heard her and Turner say before, then I sure as fuck would’ve been at least wary.
I hated wearing my helmet, but it was nice to be able to communicate with Jubilee without having to wait for stoplights.
“You won’t believe me,” she said.
I grinned. “Try me.”
She squeezed my waist just a little bit tighter, and then said, “I feel like I’ve been followed around my entire adult life.”
I frowned, heart rate starting to pick up. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” she hesitated. “It started when I was about sixteen.”
My brows rose. “What started?”
“The feeling that I wasn’t alone,” she said. “Right after Annmarie’s death, it almost felt like she hadn’t left the earth, and instead stayed with me to watch over me. Except for her ‘watching over me’ creeps me the fuck out. Luckily, it wasn’t all the time. Only sporadically. Or at least it was in the beginning. Now it feels like I’m being watched constantly.”
I felt my stomach knot, and my hand burned to call my dad and tell him what I’d just learned.
“Tell me more of this feeling,” I ordered as I gestured to Liner, who’d decided to go with us, that I was turning.
He nodded and dropped back, following me when I turned down the road that supposedly led to the best haunted house in the south.
“What do you want to know?” she asked, her hands tightening as we made an almost ninety-degree turn.
“What makes you think that someone’s watching you?” I asked.
Other than having someone actually living in your attic.
“Well, when I moved into my house, for instance, it was a nice, comfortable place that I loved.” She paused. “Then I was living there for like a month, and all of a sudden I felt like it was too small.” She shrugged. “I always feel like someone’s there when I’m walking outside. Or when I’m running. That’s why I started running at the track. It’s so lit up and open most of the time, I can see someone for at least a hundred yards in every direction.”
That was understandable.
But, knowing that, I knew that she’d never run again without me there to make sure she was safe, even if I had to ride my goddamn bike beside her to make sure of it.
I pulled up to the haunted house and winced at the large line that was wrapped halfway around the parking lot.
“This is going to take hours to get through,” I grumbled, looking over at Liner who’d pulled up beside me.
Liner looked in disgust at the line as well.
“It’ll be okay,” she assured. “I swear to God, it’ll be fun!”
It was not fun.
Not even a little bit.
After spending two hours in line—not one like she’d assured us it would be—Liner and I finally got up to the front with Jubilee sandwiched between us.
At first, we’d been all together, but the closer we got to the front of the line, the more assholes turned into assholes and started to push and shove.
It didn’t help that the haunted house served alcohol to the line, getting them nice and drunk by the time they arrived at the front.
Meaning people didn’t have any sort of boundaries any longer to keep them in line. When the pushing started, Liner would glare at them at our backs, and I’d glare at them at our fronts.
Needless to say, by the time we got to the entrance, neither Liner nor I were in the mood.
Jubilee, though, was happy as a clam.
She had a beer in her hand, and she was laughing her ass off at the sign.
If you are not this drunk, you might want to turn around and wait in line for another hour.
“Oh, that’s a good one,” she giggled. “I think I’m good.”
She was.
Most assuredly.
“All right then, we can go.” I tugged on her hand and led her through the entrance.
It wasn’t scary.
It was funny, however.
Being sober as hell, and having Jubilee slightly tipsy, everything scared her.
Her bravado from earlier took a flying leap the first moment someone jumped out at us with a hatchet.
The only thing I could say was that they were lucky that it was plastic, because had that been real, I’d have laid the motherfucker out.
Liner grumbled under his breath.
“Fake shit,” he muttered. “I can’t believe I agreed to come in here.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t just scream like a girl,” Jubilee slapped her hand on her chest. “Jesus Christ, I swear to God, I felt my soul leave my body.”
I looked down at my woman.
And she was that—mine.
Everything about her was something that had always been just a little bit mine—even when she wasn’t technically mine—I’d just been too stubborn to see it. Plus, honestly, it had been harder every passing year to continue with our animosity.