Page 73 of Some Kind of Haunted

I swallow at the lump of emotion that takes up residence in my throat. “You can be there and still complain. You usually do.”

He almost smiles. “I’ve scheduled my complaining for the morning. I’m at my best then.”

Logan exits, and I can hear the low voices of him and the others talking while Logan collects whatever else he needs.

I might as well bring everything I brought from New York in the first place. God knows what some ancient antique store is going to have as far as amenities go, even if there are beds. Antique beds. Donated by God knows who and now for sale. I’m sure I’ll sleep better in the middle of all that discarded history with my travel mask.

It takes me a while to pack up my suitcase. I’m just about done and then I remember the locket Harrison gave me that I’ve been keeping under my pillow. It’s supposed to give me protection, and I certainly need all I can get. I lean over the bed and shove my hand under the pillow, expecting to close my fingers around cool metal.

Instead, I feel something . . . furry.

I let out a screech as I jump back and then stumble even more because my suitcase is behind me.

Jack is the first one in the room, taking up the entire door frame. Logan is right behind him, and I can hear Nora demand to know what’s going on from even farther back in the tiny hall. They’re all concerned about me—my safety, not my sanity.

It’s almost disorienting. I send Jack a sheepish smile.

“Sorry. I just felt—”

I shake my head and move back to the bed. Gingerly, I pick up the pillow. I try not to flinch as I brace myself to find some kind of dead animal.

Visions of that shredded raccoon and writhing possum tail are hot behind my eyes.

Instead, it’s just the locket. But it’s open.

And there’s a lock of hair inside. That’s what I must have touched. I shudder, even though it’s a much better option than what I was thinking.

Or marginally better, anyway.

Everyone has pushed inside the room and we’re all crowded in here, peering down at the locket. I should pick it up. Tuck the hair back inside and click it into place, but I’m very hesitant to do so.

I don’t really want to touch it again.

“I wonder whose hair that is,” Nora says, but not in a way that screams it’s really fucking weird there’s hair in there. No, she seems to simply be curious.

Jack is the one who finally steps forward, pushes the hair back into place, and closes the locket with a snap. He hands it to me and I take it, but only because I feel like I have to. I definitely do not want to.

And there’s no way in hell I’m hanging that thing around my neck.

He turns away from me, picking up my suitcase with offensive ease, and then leaves the room with nothing said. Logan follows him, but Nora comes to me.

“It’s just hair,” Nora says, reassuringly. “It was a really common thing to do in the past. Harrison even has hair wreaths in the shop.”

This does not reassure me.

Especially since I am apparently sleeping in said hair shop tonight.

But we head out of the room, then out of the house. Logan locks up and the boys heft all our stuff into the dark of night. Except I note that, just like Nora did the other night, Jack follows the line of light across the yard, around the knitting shop, and onto Main Street.

Jack lets us in through the front of the diner. There are only a few people still eating, and Jack lifts his hand in a wave to Braxton working behind the counter.

“I’m going to help close up,” he tells us, but he’s mostly looking at Nora. “Show them upstairs?”

Nora nods. “Follow me, guys,” she says.

She leads us through the empty diner into the hallway. Jack doesn’t follow. I glance back at him rather than out the window where I know a lit-up clock tower will be waiting. Watching.

He’s pinching the bridge of his nose while Braxton speaks animatedly. I hear something about the scotcheroo menu debacle. It makes me want to smile.