But his words don’t comfort me; they make me feel worse. The unease in my stomach grows, twisting into a knot. Hayes shakes his head in amusement, clearly not understanding the level of my anxiety, and leads me outside the front door into the crisp night air. The sudden change in temperature hits me like a splash of ice water, and I take a deep breath, trying to calm my frayed nerves. The estate is silent, save for the rustling of the leaves in the wind and one lone distant hoot of an owl.
At least I hope it’s an owl.
"Feeling better?" Hayes asks, rubbing my back in slow, soothing circles. His touch is grounding, but my mind is still frantic.
I nod, leaning into him for comfort."A little. I just can't shake this feeling that there's more going on here than just some Halloween fun; it feels a little…personal," I admit, my voice trembling slightly. The eerie events replay in my mind, each one more vivid and creepier than the last. But how come no one else is complaining? How come no one else is as scared as I am?
I’m being singled out. The thought hits me hard.Lyle must be targeting me. He’s trying to prove all the things he told me when we met. Or maybe he’s pissed off I left his house without telling him my real name. It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. I have to tell Hayes about Lyle. He’s taking things a little too far.
“Hayes,” I say, looking up at him. “I need to tell you something.” I should just spit it out, like ripping off a band-aid. Just say it all.
“Okay,” he says, sitting down on a step and patting the space next to him.
I swallow hard, feeling like I might be sick. It’s so hard to be real and vulnerable with my feelings in front of people. “I didn’t meet Lyle in line for coffee,” I begin, sitting down hard on the cold marble step. “I met him at a bar…and I went home with him.”
Hayes shows no expression, he just blankly stares at me. “Did you sleep with him?”
I take a deep breath, bracing myself. “Yes.”
“Now I understand the way he was watching you eat your sandwich and fries,” he says with a small smile. “He’s got it bad for you.”
“You’re not angry?” I ask, shocked.
“Why would I be angry? I slept with my nephew’s preschool teacher four nights ago, are you mad?”
“No,” I say. “I just thought you’d feel…” I can’t finish. I can’t assume Hayes would feel any way, I don’t want to make the same mistakes I did with Jonathan.
“You thought I’d have some sort of retroactive jealousy?” he asks.
“I’ve never heard it called that, but yes,” I admit.
He lifts a hand to my chin, tilting my face so our eyes meet. “You’re a beautiful woman, Tori. It would be foolish of any man to think you don’t have a past.”
I decide to be fully honest.“Jonathan always thought my past was, uh, very crowded.”
“I’m not Jonathan. And God, Tori, I’ve wanted you for so long,” he says softly, brushing his lips over mine. “Forget about the past. We could have a future—just you and me.” He kisses me, tender and soft. “If that’s something you want,” he adds, pulling back slightly.
“I’d like that,” I say, but doubt lingers. “It’s just… a lot of guys have said that to me, and then when they find out about my past?—”
“Tori, I’ve slept with a lot of people too. It’s not an issue, trust me.”
Maybe he doesn’t care enough to make it an issue, or maybe he genuinely doesn’t mind. I shake my head. “Okay,” I say, deciding to let it go for now. “We can talk about it more another time. But right now, I think there’s more to this thing with Lyle.”
He leans back, eyes curious.
“I think all the stuff happening in the house is aimed at mebecauseI slept with Lyle. He’s behind it all.”
Hayes looks thoughtful. “But the things happening—they’re just pranks in good fun, right? Or is there something more serious you’re talking about?”
I’ve been so genuinely confused and scared that I’m not totally sure. Scratching sounds, weird texts, the black rose, my belongings rearranged, the bizarre ketchup thing. None of it has been physically harmful, has it? Crap, is this all in my head? Am I overreacting?
“I guess they were just pranks,” I say, uncertainty creeping into my voice.
I want to say more, to talk it all through, but the sound of an approaching car grabs our attention. We turn to see a sleek black sedan pulling up the gravel drive, its headlights slicing through the darkness. The engine purrs softly as it comes to a stop, and the crunch of gravel under the tires echoes in the still night.
The doors open with a quiet click, and Tessa and Griffin step out, their faces briefly illuminated by the soft glow of the front lights. Griffin surveys the scene with a serious expression, his eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting something to leap out at any moment.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Tessa asks, pulling the zipper of her hoodie up and sitting down next to us.
