Page 24

Did it matter that he didn’t know why?

Chapter

Five

Nate set his phone on the porch railing, checked the angle, and hit record. “So I bought a house.”

He stepped back and let the frame hold the manor’s full façade. Three stories, peeling paint, the ivy-strangled turret, the whole beautiful disaster. The late afternoon light did the heavy lifting for him. Nate wasn’t above using the same golden-hour trick the listing photos had used. If it worked, it worked.

“This place was built in 1891. It’s got six bedrooms, four fireplaces and original woodwork. It’s also got a roof that needs replacing, really old wiring, and a kitchen that’s green enough to be declared toxic.”

He walked along the porch, keeping his voice easy, as if he wasn’t at all worried about how much all of this was going to cost him. “I’ll be documenting the full restoration. This is the biggest project I’ve taken on, so if you want to watch me either pull off something incredible or have a very expensive breakdown, hit subscribe.”

He stopped at the front door, turned back to the camera, and looked directly into it with one eyebrow slightly raised. “What do you think? Good idea, terrible idea? Let me know in the comments.”

He grabbed the phone, killed the recording, and played it back. The light was good, his voice didn’t sound as tired as he felt, and the house looked like exactly the kind of project his viewers would get invested in.

Obviously, he didn’t mention the ghost.

Inside, he walked through the ground floor taking photos that he’d later post on his Instagram.

The house was quiet around him while he worked.

Wherever Leo had gone, he didn’t seem interested in interacting for the moment.

He hadn’t vacated the premises, though. Nate couldn’t see Leo, but he could feel his presence in the house all the same. Floorboards creaked in rooms Nate wasn’t walking in. Once, a door upstairs swung gently on its hinges, then stopped.

But the ghost was a problem for later.

For now, Nate needed to create content so this house wouldn’t ruin him financially.

He took a photo of the kitchen ceiling, specifically the dropped tile he’d nudged aside on his first visit. The beadboard above it was visible in the gap.

“That’s going to look incredible,” he said to no one, out of habit. He narrated when he worked. It was a side effect of filming every renovation for the past three years. It had been difficult to get into the habit; and now it was difficult to break out of it.

He took another photo and narrated that too.

The next two hours, he spent on actual work: testing outlets, checking supply lines, mapping the floor plan onto graph paper. It wasn’t the most exciting work, but Nate enjoyed it all the same. By the time he got too tired to continue, he had a floor plan, a priority list, and the beginning of a timeline that was… well, ambitious.

He also had a rumbling stomach.

Too lazy to drive into town, he sat on the porch steps and ordered food on his phone. Pizza sounded good. Pizza sounded really good. He placed his order and let his gaze drift across the yard while he waited.

Someone had planted flowers here once. Granted, they were mostly overrun by weeds now. Would it be worth it to restore the garden?

Maybe if he had some spare time.

Nate pondered this as he waited for his food.

It took about forty minutes before the delivery driver’s headlights swept up the drive. A small hatchback parked on the gravel, and out stepped a kid who handed Nate a pizza box and looked past him at the dark house with visible unease.

“You live here?”

“Just moved in.”

“Cool.” The kid was already backing toward his car. “Enjoy your pizza, man.”

Nate took the box inside, spreading the smell of cheese and tomato sauce in the foyer.