Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Morning, Big D.” Her wine-red lips tilt into a teasing smile.
I roll my eyes at the nickname. “Morning, Lucy.”
She grins wider. “I figured you probably skipped breakfast.” She gives the bag a shake. “Coffee and carbs—your two favorite food groups.”
Despite myself, I smile. “You’re not wrong.”
“Come on.” She nods toward the hallway leading to the back. “Let me feed you and we can catch up before your first appointment gets here.”
I study her for a moment, then nod.
“Yeah,” I say, pushing a hand through my hair, tamping down the unease curling under my ribs. “Sure.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Emery
By the time I shower, change into clean clothes, and make my way downstairs, the inn smells like a delightful mix of fried fatty meats and maple syrup.
Mrs. Applewood stands behind the reception desk, rearranging a basket full of fresh apples. Her smile flicks up the second our eyes meet.
“Good morning, Miss Corbin,” she says in a tone somewhere between gossiping bestie and scolding mom. “You must’ve gotten in late last night…”
My stomach drops and heat races over my skin. I tug my sleeve down, covering the mark on my arm, and give her what I hope is a casual shrug. “Yeah, I, uh, was getting footage of the town at night.”
Her brows arch, amused. “In this fog? Better check that footage and make sure it came out.” She smooths the front of her floral blouse and cocks her head, studying me like she can see into my soul. “The Hollow can be awfully chilly at night. Hope you kept warm.”
Heat crawls up my neck. I sure did. “I was fine.”
Her smile deepens, like she suspects I’m full of shit but she’s trying to be merciful. “Breakfast’s still warm. Waffles, bacon, and sausage links today.”
My stomach growls. A bowl of cereal last night and nothing but coffee this morning hadn’t been enough. “I’m going to devour whatever’s left,” I warn her.
“That’s what I like to hear.” She chuckles.
Grateful for a reason to escape her scrutiny, I hurry into the dining room and load a plate with waffles, bacon, sausage, apple slices, and two apple crumb muffins. I take a seat by the window and drizzle maple syrup all over my waffle, then smear it with butter.
I’ve scarfed down half the waffle, several bacon strips, and a piece of muffin when I finally give in and check my phone. Nothing from Declan. Several texts from Wren.
I answer Wren and let her know I’m okay.
Then I just…stare at the screen.
Should I send Declan a picture of my breakfast? That’s casual, right? Or will he think I’m trying to make him feel bad for not feeding me this morning?
No. He said he had a client, he’s probably busy permanently inking someone’s skin.
I pull up my sleeve and stare at my bare arm, the faint blue veins beneath my pale skin. Would I be brave enough to let Declan actually mark me for life?
My gaze drifts to my wrist. The faint green line still glows there. It doesn’t hurt, or pulse, or do anything strange—it just exists. Magically, mysteriously, undeniably there.
Declan says it’s some sort of family curse.
Each generation inherits this…duty?
Is that what it is? An obligation to protect people from the Rider?
I pull out my notebook and scribble down some thoughts.
Video title: A Family Cursed for Generations—The Crowsbridge Hollow Legacy.
Tagline: Can the chain be broken?
I stare at the page. No. I can’t do that to Declan. It would expose him and his family trauma to the whole world.
Since when do I let personal feelings dictate my stories?
I chew on the end of my pencil. I can’t scrap the story entirely. I slash a line through the title. There has to be a better angle.
After breakfast, I sling my bag over my shoulder and head for the front door. Mrs. Applewood glances up with a bright smile and an expectant gleam in her eyes.
Please don’t ask me more questions about my night with Declan.
She claps her hands together. “I’ve got wonderful news.”
My shoulders tense automatically. “Wonderful news” in this town feels awfully ambitious.
I stop at the front desk and paste on an attentive smile. “What’s that?”
“They found the boy who was missing.”
“Mason?” I search my brain for his last name. How could I forget about him? “Baker, right?”
She nods quickly. “The Bakers are such a nice family. So lucky to have him back safe and sound.”
I open my mouth to ask where he was, but it seems inappropriate. “That’s great. What a relief.”
“Yes.” Her gaze strays to the front door. “Not every family is so lucky.”
Given what I learned at the library, that seems like an understatement.
She lowers her voice and leans forward. “Can you believe it? Supposedly he met a girl online and took a bus down to Virginia to meet her.”
“That’s bold,” I say carefully. Didn’t his parents ever teach him about stranger danger? “He’s lucky it didn’t end…um, badly.”