Page 34 of Tessa and Nash

I press my back to the door, breathing hard, and for one suspended moment we just stare at each other.

This is insane.

This is reckless.

This is the exact opposite of how I live my life.

I shrug out of my coat, tossing it over the chair, suddenly aware of how warm the room feels compared to the freezing street outside.

“Come on,” I hiss. “Bedroom. Now.”

“Okay,” Nash whispers behind me. “Just so we’re clear, if I die tonight, it’s because I followed you into a haunted house.”

“It’s not haunted,” I hiss back. “And stop talking.”

“I’m whispering.”

“You’re loud whispering.”

He clamps his mouth shut immediately, eyes wide, nodding like an overgrown child who’s just been told not to touch the stove.

We make it three careful steps forward when the floorboard near the sitting room creaks.

We freeze, both staring at the ceiling.

Footsteps.

My heart slams into my ribs so hard I’m convinced it’s audible.

“Do you hear that?” Nash breathes, barely moving his lips.

“Yes,” I whisper back. “That’s my grandmother. If she comes out here and sees you, she will absolutely ask questions.”

“Nice questions?”

“No.”

“Polite questions?”

“Also no.”

The footsteps pause.

I don’t breathe.

The hallway light flicks on.

I grab his wrist and yank him backward into the small alcove by the coat closet, pressing him flat against the wall as the light spills into the hall.

He bumps his elbow and winces silently, eyes squeezed shut like that might save him.

Grandma Nell’s voice drifts down the hallway.

“Tessa?”

My soul attempts to leave my body.

“Yes?” I squeak.