Page 36 of If I Stopped Haunting You

Opening her laptop, Pen met Storm’s scrutiny over her screen. “What?” she asked, fingers hesitating over the keys.

“Nothing.”

She took a long drink of tea, ignoring his pointed stare as Laszlo tapped the button on his phone. “Go!”

Dread coiled in Pen’s stomach, but she reached out, put her fingers to the keys, and tried her damnedest.

Alas, her damnedest wasnotgood enough. In the first interval, Pen wrote:

I like cheese. Cheese comes in all kinds of forms. We like cheese very much. Do you like cheese? Mice like cheese. Cheese likes cheese.

Cheese wins all.

Why she’d suddenly become obsessed with cheese was anyone’s guess. She held down the backspace button and deleted the entire selection before she could stop herself.

In the second interval, Pen caught Storm watching her, his expression inscrutable.

He is a storm, and I wish he would just go hide in a corner so I can stop looking at his pretty face.

Pretty faces, corners, stormy men. There was one person crowding her thoughts, and Pen would never willingly admit that he was taking up every inch of space in her mind. She held down the backspace button again, teeth grinding. Pen caught him smirking over his coffee, and she turned to glower at him.

“What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing.”

She wished writing didn’t make her so damn angry, but it did. Maybe that was her problem, the anger that she used to fuel her craft. Clearly, whatever she was doing was not working. Maybe she needed happiness and comfort. Something soft and warm instead of cold and stony.

“Why don’t you sit this one out?” Laszlo offered, tapping the back of her hand.

“Love you, Laszlo, but I’ve got this.”

Daniela shot Laszlo a look over Pen’s head, but Pen ignored it. She could do this. She could writesomething. Anything.

Her eyes met Storm’s once more, and his brows pinched together in… what was that, concern? Damn it, now she really needed to succeed. She couldn’t let him see her fail. Her career was riding on this. Half her savings had been spent on the airfare to get here, and Pen wasn’t willing to give in and fail just yet.

She was so sick of the pity, of the way everyone avoided her. Pen would prove them all wrong.

She had so much worth fighting for.

Chapter 12

NEIL

Neil watched Skinner over his laptop. Her tongue stuck out of the corner of her lips; her brows pinched together, eyes narrowed as she tapped away. It was almostviolent,the way she wrote. She attacked her keyboard with an energy that was frightening, a kitten pouncing on a toy mouse.

“Pen,” Laszlo called. Skinner didn’t look up. “Earth to Penelope Skinner? Okay, I’m starting the next one.” Laszlo clicked the timer on his phone and motioned for them to begin.

Neil returned his attention to his screen, the sensor flashing in time with his heartbeat. This again. He needed towrite, put something, anything down. Last night, he hadn’t managed to write a single word, and writing retreats were for writing, weren’t they? Neil stared at his laptop as the rest of the table began typing, and his eyes flicked over them. Their fingers moved confidently over the keys in a rhythmictap-tap-tap.

Even Daniela, who’d complained loudly about not wanting to think, was writing, her eyes zeroed in on the words across her screen. But not Neil. There was nothing in that little head of his.

“Done!” Laszlo said, pulling him from his thoughts.

Neil’s heart was in his throat as the others stretched and yawned, shaking out their fingers as if in those ten minutes of writing they’d written an entire fucking book. Fuck, this was not looking good forNeil. Blinking, he focused on his screen. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it was blank, still blank. How in the hell had he managed not to write a single word? His focus drifted back to Skinner, and suddenly he knew why he was so goddamn distracted. Her—she was doing this to him.

Laszlo restarted the timer before standing and crossing to the counter, refilling his coffee. Daniela followed suit, searching through the fridge and cabinets for snacks and breakfast. Despite his growling stomach, Neil didn’t get up. Neither did Skinner.

Taking a sip of his now lukewarm coffee, Neil found himself drawn to her like a magnet. She was still seated before her laptop, hands stretched out over the keyboard, mouth parted slightly, just enough to make him trail its bow shape. Swallowing, he searched her expression for any hint of what she was feeling. There were words on her computer, he could see them reflected in her glasses, but there weren’t many.