Fearless, Abby Brooks [leveled readers .txt] 📗

As I unclipped Morgan’s leash and hung it on the hook near the door, I had to wonder. If I wouldn’t break into Evie’s house because duh, and I wouldn’t start a relationship of any kind with her just so I could get something I needed…what would I do?

Chapter Six

Evie

Amelia strolled into the living room with a Cheshire Cat grin. She was up to something, and I suspected it had to do with a man who broke into my house at the buttcrack of dawn. “There actually isn’t any coffee in the kitchen.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do say. I just went in there to give you and sexy neighbor man some privacy. I mean, come on, if you didn’t believe in the universe dropping hints, you have to after a grand display like that.” Amelia gestured toward the door, then turned her focus to the living room in general. “This house is gorgeous in the daylight, by the way, and I think the sage worked. That creepy-crawly vibe is totally gone, don’t you think?”

I had so many questions that wouldn’t organize themselves until caffeine hit my system. I said as much then wrapped my arms around my stomach as I realized I had no clue where to actually go to get coffee. Everything about Wildrose Landing was new and that scared me to death.

“Don’t you worry about that, sweet thing.” Amelia waved her phone. “While you deepened your connection with Alex, I found a cute little cafe that serves coffee, then made a list of all the places we should explore, ending in a candy shop called Sweet Stuff. This town is utopia. I’d almost consider moving here too.”

“I haven’t decided if I’m staying, yet.” The response was knee-jerk. A defense mechanism. Out before I had time to think about what I was saying.

Amelia rolled her eyes. “I’ve decided for you. Believe me. You do not want to see how aggressive your spirit guides will get if you don’t take their hints. Shit gets real, sweetness. You’re moving. End of discussion.”

Moving.

What a strange concept. A week ago, I was happily employed, living on my best friend’s couch. Just a few days later, I was unemployed, living in a small town, in a house I owned but didn’t feel like mine.

And worse, Amelia would be leaving me tomorrow.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

She frowned. “You can’t explore a quaint New England town in the height of autumn? We need to work on this fearless thing more than I thought.”

“No. I don’t think I can live here. Without you. Without a job. Without a plan.”

“First of all, you’ll still have me. We’ll just video chat more than we used to. Second of all, maybe you could use all this time to actually pursue your dream and write. You have enough money in savings to support you for a little while. When that runs out, maybe you could sell some furniture or something.” She gestured around the living room. (Drawing room? Study? What room were we actually standing in?)

I couldn’t write and she knew it, but bless her for trying to help me. “I’m suddenly realizing just how much about my life is going to change and it’s freaking me out a little. What am I gonna do?”

The question was rhetorical, but Amelia folded her arms as she contemplated an answer. She was extreme and over the top, but she looked out for me like she thought it was her job and I loved her for it.

“You’re going to say yes,” she said decisively.

Her statement bounced off my head. Between king-sized, four poster beds, demons named Morgan, and hot neighbors who broke into my new house first thing in the morning, I had a lot going on. “Babe, what does that even mean?”

Amelia moved into the middle of the room and held out her hands. “You’re going to look every opportunity in the eyes and say yes. You’ve been led here for a reason and I promise you, if you keep running away, you’ll end up learning your lessons the hard way.”

“Amelia. Darling. I love you but it’s very important you hear me.” I put both hands on her shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. “It’s too freaking early for lessons from the universe.”

Wildrose Landing proved just as quaint and eclectic as Amelia said it’d be. Set just off the coastline, the luscious, briny scent of the ocean filled the air. It combined with the sweetness of changing leaves. The comfort of oversized sweaters and the energy of the tides. Strangers waved as we passed. Shop owners stopped to introduce themselves. Apparently, our “not from around here status” was pretty much airbrushed on our foreheads.

Over and over, again and again, I’d explain that my Great Aunt Ruth had left me the house on Sugar Maple Hill and eyes would go wide. “I heard that place is haunted,” they’d say, laughing nervously, ashamed to admit they might actually believe in ghosts.

While I’d try to assuage their fears, Amelia had a blast stoking the fire. “When we got there, the porchlights were on. And she hasn’t paid an electric bill! Not one! How is that even possible?”

She scattered exclamation points like confetti and the people of Wildrose gobbled them up.

As we strolled down Main Street, I grabbed her hand. “You do realize I’ll forever be the woman who lives in the haunted house, right?”

“The fearless woman who lives in the haunted house. I’m building your brand, babycakes!” She threaded her arm through mine. “You’ll thank me for this, you know.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” I wasn’t, but didn’t need an argument.

I pushed through the doors of Sweet Stuff, the jingle of bells announcing our arrival. Peppy music and rows upon rows of brightly colored candy greeted us. With vibrant pastels and emoji themed décor, the place was an adult’s interpretation of childhood dreams. I loved it instantly.

A brunette glanced up from behind