Page 41 of Haunted Spurs

“And why did you move to Elm Hollow in the first place? Where were you living before?”

The barrage of questions catches me off guard. I didn’t expect her to start asking me personal things, to get this curious about me, to dig this deep. But, honestly... it makes me ridiculously happy. I don’t have the most exciting past, but I fucking love that she’s interested in me.

“I never really had a permanent place to live,” I explain, stuffing my hands into my pockets to keep myself steady. “I bounced around different cities, going wherever the work was or wherever I was needed. Then Grant moved here and... at first I just came out of curiosity, to visit him, surprise him a bit. I didn’t want him to—”

I stop. I’m not sure I should say it. But looking into her big, dark eyes, I finish anyway.

“I didn’t want him to give up a place that was finally making him happy just because of me.”

A new expression flickers across her face. I’ve never seen it before. The coldness slips away, replaced by something much softer. She arches an eyebrow, now fully turned toward me, like she’s completely forgotten about the Scarlet Lady and the paintings. Her attention is all on me.

“And why would Grant ever want to leave a place that makes him happy?” she asks, her voice soft as velvet.

I swallow. There’s a lump in my throat I haven’t felt in years.

“We’ve almost always lived in the same city, or at least close by. He... well, he comes across like a tough, unfeeling bear, but I think deep down he was always afraid I’d feel lonely without him.” I shrug, pretending I don’t feel as much as I do.

Her gaze doesn’t leave me for a second. Slowly, she lifts a hand and brushes one of those stark white streaks of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. I’m kind of obsessed with those two white strands against her dark hair—they make her look completely unique.

“And did you ever feel lonely?” she whispers. A second later, she bites her lip and drops her gaze, like she already regrets asking. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

I smile at her, catching her eyes to reassure her.

“Of course not. I’ve got Ollie. I wasn’t lonely at all. I told that idiot already, but... that grump probably figured a Labrador doesn’t really count as company.”

Another smile appears on her lips. This time she doesn’t hold it back—it slips out naturally, sincerely. And yet it’s not a happy smile. There’s a hint of sadness in it.

“And you didn’t have anyone else close to you?” she asks, her voice a little rough. Before I can answer, she quickly shakes her head. “Damn it, I’m prying again. Don’t answer if you don’t want to talk about it.”

“Careful there, Queen of Darkness...” I murmur, stepping a little closer. “I might actually melt if you keep worrying about me like that.”

I smile, trying to lighten the mood.

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. By now, I’ve learned that’s basically her signature move.

“I don’t mind talking about it with you,” I admit, and I mean it. “I grew up in an orphanage with Grant. We stayed there together. Nobody ever picked us... no one adopted us. So eventually, we just left on our own the day we turned eighteen.”

I watch her as I speak. Her expression darkens, sadness flickering across her eyes, and my instinct kicks in immediately.

I flash her a wide, easy smile, trying to bury the weight of what I just said. Dammit—I hate when people look at me like that. I’ve spent my whole life playing the clown just to avoid pity. Even if it’s her. Especially if it’s her. I don’t want her pity.

“But... seriously, he worries way too much for my taste!” I exclaim, waving a hand through the air in a breezy, theatrical gesture. “I’m totally fine. I’m happy. I’ve got Ollie, I make friends easily wherever I go, and now I even have a haunted ranch.”

I give her my brightest, most open smile.

She just looks at me. Then, slowly, she swallows.

She doesn’t say anything, and I appreciate that she doesn’t try to fill the silence or apologize for something that isn’t her fault.

I shrug, determined to steer us away from this little detour into melancholy and bring back the usual lightness between us. Whatever ghosts there are, they can stay buried. Even Ollie seems to pick up on the shift; he rears up on his hind legs, paws on my knees, wagging his tail like crazy as he pushes his snout against me for attention. I scratch him properly behind the neck.

“Well...” Selene whispers, finally breaking the silence, her voice softer than I expect. “For what it’s worth, it seems like you’re doing a great job.”

That catches me off guard, right in the chest. Selene Dusk doesn’t really strike me as the kind of person who gives compliments, so hearing that from her warms something in me.

I smile at her—small, but real.

“Thank you.”