Page 108 of If I Stopped Haunting You

Eyes crinkling at the corners, he kissed her slowly, lips lingering before he pulled away and disappeared down the hall. She sat and waited on the stairs as Neil grabbed their bags, packing away their meager belongings. She stopped in the foyer on their way out, squinting up at the portrait.

“There’s one last thing I need to grab,” she said, shuffling toward the study.

“What are you grabbing?” Neil called.

“You’ll see!” she called over her shoulder, limping around the corner to the study. She paused in the entryway, her eyes trailing over the study. So many things had changed because of this room. She and Neil had opened that liquor cabinet together. They had played truth or dare. She’d learned about his family and the sweat lodge he’d grown up with because of that fireplace.

And the journal had brought them together.

“I’ll always be grateful for you,” she whispered, patting the wall fondly.

Pen crossed the room, careful to keep her weight off her ankle. She stopped beside the desk in the back corner where Neil had placed the journal and letters, and Pen gathered them into a pile, her hands skimming over a love story for the ages. She wanted to tell Georgina and Archie’s story; she’d never wanted anything more in the world. She scanned the desk until she found the red journal, and she stacked the letters atop it, turning to go.

“It’s okay. Ye can take it,” Fanny said.

Pen jumped in surprise, pressing the journal and letters to her chest. Fanny was seated at the windows, tucked in with the curtains, the incoming light casting a bluish tint over the woman. Pen hadn’t seen the groundskeeper when she’d come in.

Clearing her throat, Pen said, “When you gave us the tour and said you hadn’t seen the woman in black, you meant that you’d seen the woman in white, right? Have you always seen the ghosts?”

Fanny tapped the glass on the window, expression wistful as she glanced out across the snowy grounds.

“I’ve been seeing the ghosts in this castle since I was a wee one and my father was the groundskeeper. I dinnae ken who they were, had always feared them too much to spend any length of time here, and my father always warned me nay to stay past sunset. That’s why it’s falling apart. This castle has been falling apart because of my and my father’s fear.” She smiled sadly, meeting Pen’s gaze. “I wish I had taken the time to ken who they were and why they were still here. I wish I’d been less of a coward. Ye taught me that.”

Pen blushed, tightening her hold on the journal. “Well, you have nothing to fear now. They’re gone.”I think.

Fanny stood and motioned to the journal and letters. “Yer friend told me yer a bunch of writers. Will ye be telling her story, then?”

“If you’ll allow me to.”

“Aye. I cannae imagine anyone more deserving.”

Pen didn’t know how to respond, so she nodded her thanks before limping out of the study and back toward the foyer.

Neil raised a brow as she rounded the corner. “Are you allowed to take those?”

“Yes, I have Fanny’s permission.”

He grunted, and Pen touched his cheek, warmth blooming in her chest as he looked down at her.

“In the last five years,” she started, “I’ve never felt this way about a story. Maybe because it feels like I’m telling a story that was meant to be told. Maybe it’s because it’ll practically write itself for me, but I feel…” She trailed off, shrugging. “I feel at home.”

He smiled, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. “That’s really great, Penelope.”

“So, tell me one thing,” she said slowly. “Tell me why you love to write.”

Neil frowned at her, scratching his chin. “I feel like I was bornto tell stories, that if I don’t, I’ll lose a part of myself.” He paused, searching her face.

“Go on,” she urged, hands tightening around the journal and letters.

“There are stories I want to tell, a writer I want to be, but I’m worried that I still haven’t found my story, not like you.”

“Neil Storm, are you jealous?”

“No? Yes,” he conceded with a sigh. “Georgina and Archie’s story is… it’s everything someone could want. It has all the elements of a wonderful book.”

“You know, we did figure this all out together, and there are two sides to the story,” she said, taking a step closer.

“And?”