Page 20 of Your Masked Haunting

She tucks her hair behind her ear, and I wish I were there in person, watching this unfold. I could tell her all those words straight to her face.

Her pouty lips move as she reads the letter, the softest and prettiest smile tipping the corners until those pearly whites are on full display. If I wasn’t already sitting, my knees might have landed me on my ass anyway from how stunning she is when she smiles.

I glance over at Bates and Serena, who’re snuggled up, Kol and Freddie beside them. They’re locked into the movie and their sweet treat, so I turn my attention back to my phone.

Mona’s opening the box now, the ribbon already tossed behind her on the floor. I turn the volume of my phone up, wanting to hear her reactions. Not too loud that I disturb the others, but enough that I can hear her when I lift my device to my ear.

“Oh my God,” she murmurs. “Pen, you got new digs.”

Carefully, she lifts the ten-inches by five-inches plastic enclosure from the box, fully decked out with ghost decor, a three-tier miniature cat tree, and mesh air vents in the sides of the plexiglass. I also found this enclosure on Etsy, just like my mask. I swear, they need to sponsor our friend group at this point.

She beams, taking it in, spinning the container around as she looks at all the fine details. But she stops, sucking in a quick breath when the front reaches her. Gently, she runs her finger over the little gold plaque positioned at the base that reads: Penelope Greer.

“Oh my God,” she whispers.

Quickly, I switch cameras as her face turns out of frame. Clicking into one of the other thirteen hidden camera feeds, I’m taken aback at her expression.

Upturned eyes. Quivering lips. Softened shoulders.

I think it’s safe to say that she likes this present a lot. There’ve been a couple of gifts that she was a brat about. Apparently, she doesn’t love the smell of lilies, and I found them in the trash the next day.She also has no respect for daisies, the next flower I tried and failed with.

I threatened her about being a bad girl in the next card I left, and I swear she was even brattier after that. But honestly, I fucking love it.

Tears build in her eyes, and she plops down on her bed, studying the enclosure intensely, like she’s scared if she looks away, it’ll disappear. A single drop falls from her lashes and starts rolling down her cheek. Panic strikes my heart like a bullet, and the only restraint keeping me in my seat instead of racing across the city is the smile gradually stretching across her face.

She hops up from her bed, a pep in her step as she saunters over to where Penelope is currently living. While Mona could probably leave her where she is, Penelope will be safer in the enclosure because Mona can monitor the humidity level, and on top of that, she’ll be safer from fall damage, which often ends a jumping spider’s life. Even in captivity, that risk is there, which is why a bigger enclosure isn’t always better.

Mona sets the custom-built enclosure down on the table nearest her, popping the base off of it. The attached miniature cat tree stays with it, not wobbling as she sets it beside the lid.

Her mouth moves, but I can’t tell what she says. I’m guessing it’s somewhere along the lines of please don’t bite me by the look on her face as she approaches the sconce. Gently, she crouches and eases her hands into the shell.

I’m more scared watching this interaction than I am watching Matthew Lillard’s and Skeet Ulrich’s characters commit murder. She may love her little spider, but I love that Penelope will now be completely contained without the risk of her getting near me.

Her hands retreat from the shell, and I spot a dime-sized blur on her fingertips. The excitement is practically radiating off of her as she tiptoes over to the enclosure and lowers Penelope to the top of the little cat tree.

Mona is nothing but joyous as she secures her pet inside the enclosure, setting the top back on the base and latching it into place. With the utmost care, she carries Pen over to the nightstand and sets her closest to the bed before plopping down on the mattress beside her, her head in her hands.

I swipe out of the cameras, minimizing the screen so I can still keep an eye on her as I shoot her a text.

How was work? Make it to your room okay?

Her phone screen lights up on her nightstand, and she immediately grabs it, a genuine smile spreading across her face as she reads my message and responds.

Scaredy-Cat: You have an impeccable sixth sense

Scaredy-Cat: And thank you

Scaredy-Cat: Seriously, it’s perfect

I told you, I’ve got you. Anything and anytime, baby

The guys are getting together this morning for some ice time at the arena. Practice for the Saint Paul Sinners professional hockey team doesn’t officially begin for another week, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t still spending every day on the ice or hitting the gym.

It’s Bates’s, Kol’s, and my home away from home. But I’m sure it’s like that for everyone else on the team too. To be honest, we don’t usually venture far out from our chaotic trio. I mean, we’re not complete assholes. We still have good relationships with our teammates, but we don’t go out of our way to see them outside of Sinners practices, games, and events.

This morning’s skate, however, will be a bit different from the others because we were recently informed by our general manager and our head coach that they’d acquired two defensemen from trades a couple of weeks ago, and they’re finally here.

Massive guys with equally massive egos. But they’ve earned the right to be arrogant. They’re good—better than good.