“So.” I cleared my throat. “Did you fall down the true crime rabbit hole after you left Woodstone?”
She set her glass down and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “The journal? Yeah, I probably spent way too many hours online looking into it. Found a marriage record for a Patrick and Lauren Hutchinson at your address. They were married for seven years.”
“So Lauren is L then?”
“Looks like it. Her husband was the son of a congressman, but there’s not much information on him either. No obituary for her, so she’s probably still out there somewhere.” Her brow furrowed. “She just...disappeared.”
I shrugged. “Seems like if she is still alive, she turned into a recluse. Maybe there wouldn’t be an obituary for her anywhere.”
“That’s possible. There’s no knowing exactly what happened to her, it seems.”
“I asked around town a little, but no one knew anything.”
The candle between us flickered, and I found myself memorizing the way the light caught in her eyes. Outside, rain began pattering against the windows.
“When do we read the next entry?” I wanted her back in Woodstone, in my house, in my life.
Her lips curved into a small smile. “Trying to lure me back with the journal?”
“Absolutely.”
“I mean, you're the one who made the rule about reading them together, in your house.”
I shrugged. “Very official rule. Cannot be broken under any circumstance.”
“I don’t know. We didn’t sign a contract.”
I shifted forward, close enough that our knees almost touched under the table. “What does your schedule look like?”
She toyed with her wine glass, her nail tracing a pattern on the stem. “Says the guy who Googles my tour dates.” She laughed. “I have a break after tomorrow’s show. I’ll be off until after the New Year.”
I hesitated for a second, and the words tumbled out of my mouth. “Come with me to Woodstone for Christmas. I don't have a game until a few days after, and I'm headed there on Christmas Eve.”
“Uh…” She went completely still, the glass halfway to her mouth.
“Sorry, you probably already have plans with your folks.”
“No, actually, I don’t.” She set her glass down carefully. “They've been traveling a lot lately and are going on a cruise for Christmas. I told them I'd be fine, since I'm so busy with touring anyway.”
“What were your plans then?”
“Rachel invited me to her family's house.” She scrunched her face. “But honestly? I was thinking about staying home, ordering way too much takeout, and having a movie marathon. My family's more of a birthday family anyway. I haven't put up a tree or lights in years.”
I opened my mouth, closed it, and ran a hand through my hair. “You shouldn't be alone for Christmas.”
“I’m perfectly capable of entertaining myself.”
“I know you are, but…” I leaned forward. “Come with me. We could read another diary entry, stay in, light a fire.”
I paused then added with a grin, “I’ll make you cookies. From scratch.”
Her expression was unreadable. Not hesitant exactly, but…careful.
“It will be nice,” I murmured. “To get away from all the noise. Just for a bit.”
Ellie studied me for what felt like forever, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her wine glass. “Are you sure?”
“Completely sure.”
