Page 29 of If I Stopped Haunting You

“Skinner, there’s nothing there.” His voice was whisper-soft, a contrast to his sharp words earlier.

Something was changing between them, their pasts morphing into a present she’d never stopped to imagine, and although Pen wanted to ask what it was, she could think of nothing but the eyes in the dark. She was certain she’d seen something. She didn’t know what it was, but there had beensomething.

Hadn’t there?

Light leaked in from behind them, casting a bright glow down the stairs and into the cellar. Now Pen could see a string dangling from the bottom of the stairs, dancing in the air almost playfully a few steps down. Storm followed her gaze and reached out and tugged on it, his other hand still grasping Pen’s as light flooded the room.

“Are you okay?” Daniela called down, her curl-framed face appearing in the doorway.

“We’ll be up in a minute!” Storm said.

They turned in unison and scanned the cellar. Other than the wine and furniture and closed, labeled boxes, there was nothing else—no oneelse. Concern was written across his features, in the lines around his eyes and mouth, and her heart skipped a beat.

Imagining things, Pen was imagining things. Neil Storm could not possibly beconcernedfor her. Swallowing down her confusion, Pen tugged her hand free, swiveled back to the top of the stairs and jogged up.

“Are you okay?” Laszlo asked as she pushed her way past them. “We heard the scream…”

“I’m fine.”

Storm appeared a moment later with two bottles of champagne tucked under his arm and her phone in his hand. Why had he gotten it for her? She stared at him as he closed the door with his hip, shutting in whatever she’d seen. He held her phone out, and she took it, their fingers brushing and sending a shock of electricity up her arm.

She snatched her hand away, anxiety peaking. Ignoring her, Storm passed the champagne bottles to Daniela, and they followed Laszlo back toward the study. Pen lingered behind, fighting a shiver as she tightened her hand around her phone.

“Hey,” Storm started, reaching out as if to touch her, comfort her. “Are you okay?”

It was a loaded question. There were the stairs, the door thatled to the cellar and the thing that lurked below. Had she imagined it? Or had it truly been there, waiting in the dark for someone to find it? Fanny seemed to know more about this castle than she was letting on, and Pen was beginning to believe that there was a lot more to the stories Fanny had told.

“I swear,” she said, leaning close. “I saw something down there. The protector ghost Fanny spoke of.Something.I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Maybe you did see something.”

Pen wrinkled her nose, watching him closely, searching those green eyes that had become shockingly familiar in just a day. “You don’t believe me, do you?”

He sighed, running his fingers through his curls. “No?” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d like to believe you. Maybe I just didn’t see it. Maybe, if there was something down there, it didn’t want to be seen by anyone other than you.”

Pen shuddered and wrapped her arms around her middle. “Yeah, I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I can imagine.”

They stopped just outside the study. Inside, Daniela had slid back into her empty chair, and Laszlo huddled next to the fire for warmth, the couch empty. Pen glared at it, aware of the heat of Storm beside her, and she imagined, almost strangely, what it would be like to sit next to him, thighs squished together, their bodies aligned. Touching. It was oddly comforting knowing he was beside her even now. And perhaps he was right. Perhaps, if it had indeed been a ghost down in the cellar, it had only wanted Pen to see it.

“Maybe you’re right.” She smiled weakly, meeting his eyes. “I’ve always had an affinity for lost things.”

He watched her silently. Daniela and Laszlo laughed as they settled into their cushy seats beside the dwindling fire and passed the bottles back and forth, bubbly golden liquid spilling over theirflutes. But Pen couldn’t stay here any longer. She couldn’t drink champagne and laugh and smile as if she weren’t comforted by Storm’s presence, as if the electricity between them wasn’t transforming into something that scared her. As if she hadn’t seen the thing in the cellar.

Mind buzzing, she turned to go.

“Pen,” Laszlo started, standing.

“I’m just tired. I was up pretty early.” Pen faked a yawn, covering her mouth with her hand as she avoided their gazes. “See you all in the morning.”

They murmured their goodnights, and she turned down the hall, hurrying toward the stairs leading up to the second floor. The goose bumps wouldn’t go away. There was something so very wrong with this castle, and perhaps they never should have come here.

“Skinner, wait.”

She paused in the hall, peering over her shoulder to catch Storm as he stepped over the discarded bottles. His hair was disheveled, cheeks flushed. His fleece was unzipped, the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms and more of the tattoo that peeked out from beneath. It looked to be a feather, the black ink fading out, stippled.

“What are you doing?” she asked, flicking her eyes away from the ink.