Chapter 4: A House Full of Ghosts

“I don’t want to stay at a hotel. Can I stay at your place?”

I didn’t know why Derek had given that house to Caleb, but I really wanted to go back and see it again.

The house at Maple Heights had always been more than just wood and stone—it was late-night movies and burnt popcorn, dancing barefoot in the kitchen, love whispered over coffee at dawn. I needed to feel that again, just for a night.

All our happiest years had been spent there.

But my request clearly startled Caleb.

He blinked, as if I’d just asked him to take me to Mars. “What do you want?”

“Caleb, you know who I am, don’t you? Are you afraid I’ll ruin your uncle’s engagement? If so, shouldn’t you watch me even more closely?”

I didn’t know what Caleb was thinking, but in the end, he did take me back to the house.

He drove us in a battered Jeep that smelled of fries and old gym shoes. The road twisted through shadowy oaks, porch lights glowing like low-hanging stars. My heart beat faster as the house came into view.

Nothing had changed much. The painting I’d done myself still hung in its original place.

The hallway was full of familiar ghosts—my laughter echoing down the stairs, Derek humming as he fixed breakfast, the brushstrokes of my old painting catching the lamplight just so.

For some reason, I suddenly remembered Derek once told me he had a friend who loved my paintings. I thought his friend had good taste, so I decided to paint a landscape for him myself.

But before I finished, I died.

That painting sat unfinished, gathering dust, a piece of me stuck in time. It hurt more than I expected, seeing my own brushwork frozen in mid-thought.

Whenever I remembered this in the afterlife, I regretted not finishing that painting sooner.

Now that I was finally back, I wanted to complete that unfinished task.

I walked straight to the southernmost room on the second floor. Just as I reached for the doorknob, Caleb stopped me immediately.

“Anywhere but this room—you can sleep anywhere else.”

His voice was sharp, sudden—a line drawn in the sand.

“I just want to look inside.”

“Not even that. Uncle won’t let anyone touch anything in there. Not even me.”

“If you don’t tell your uncle, he won’t know.”

“No means no.”

This time, Caleb was unyielding. Afraid I’d keep thinking about that room, he dragged me back downstairs.

His grip was gentle but firm. “Seriously, just leave it. Some doors are locked for a reason,” he said, eyes refusing to meet mine.

No matter how I argued, he wouldn’t give in.

I was really annoyed.

“Why are you so stubborn?”

“Unless my uncle agrees.”

“But you don’t want me to see your uncle, do you?”

“Who knows what you’re up to.”

“Caleb, you’re really asking for—”

Before I could finish, the doorbell rang.

The sound echoed through the foyer, sharp as a starter pistol. I happened to be standing by the door, so I opened it, still in a bad mood.

“Who is it?”

And right there, I saw Derek’s face…

For a second, I thought I was seeing a ghost—then I remembered that was supposed to be my job.