A week. That was the longest I was able to fight myself back. My conversation with Amy about Brandon worked like battery acid in my mind, corroding any intention and determination to find a Haunter-free life.

It was Sunday afternoon, and the world outside every window was carpeted in the purest white I'd ever seen. It'd been snowing at least for a while almost every day since I'd come back from Pennhurst, and the one and only snowplow in charge of keeping Greenwich Road open was working overtime.

After the fire at the guesthouse, Mike had called the best sweepers in all Massachusetts to make sure the Manor chimneys wouldn't act out too, and now I was able to have heaters with little flames in the kitchen, the east parlor, my room and the study.

So Sunday afternoon, white as far as I could see from the couch under the window in the east parlor. I praised the last work of art Charlotte had made on her magnetic board and bid the Blotters goodnight when they left for dinner.

My eyes fell on my phone, dark and quiet on the coffee table, and jumped back out the window. To go down to it again not a minute later and dart away in a heartbeat.

Five minutes later, sick and tired of myself, I grabbed the mean thing and browsed my contacts. My thumb needed a little push from my feeble backbone to press Brandon's name. A text, because I didn't dare to call him. Not like that, so out of the blue on a Sunday evening, after six weeks of radio silence.

I stared at the blank message for a long while. What was I to write to him? I had nothing to say to him. Nothing to ask. Nothing to nothing.

My conversation with Amy. Right, that. Just like my first times texting him, I typed and deleted my message several times, until I was able to make up my mind.

"Hey, Amy told me you wanna interview her here. Remember to let me know when you're coming a couple of days in advance, so I can have some vegan food in store for you."

That. No questions. Nothing personal. No immediate reply required. Yes, I could live with it. Even if I needed to breathe deep several times before tapping Send.

Yet, I kept the phone in my hand, waiting for it to buzz right away.

It didn't. Not in the following minutes, not in the following hours.

There you have it. He wasn't looking for an excuse to see me. Amy was just imagining things where there was nothing. Nothing.

But I still wanted to see him so badly, I felt I could stomach a whole episode of Haunters over dinner. Which was the worst thing I could've done, of course. Because it only fed that unhealthy longing to a miserable extent.

It was snowing again when I finished in the kitchen, and I knew myself enough to bet on at least a couple of hours before I felt anywhere near like going to sleep. So I made tea, filled my mug and headed upstairs, to my room.

While Joseph, and especially Edward, enjoyed the blessing of virtual libraries on the tablets every night, I'd found a treasure trove of paperbacks in the many bookshelves all over the Manor. That December, Joseph had introduced me to one Márái Sándor, a Hungarian author he liked. He'd brought most of his books to the Manor before passing, so now I was able to enjoy the unique pleasure of reading a book with yellowing pages by the fire in my room. I even kept a little pile of cushions and throw pillows on the rug in front of the fireplace, to lie there and read to my heart's content.

That night, I was halfway through Embers and loving every word of it, so I didn't care if I wasn't ready to go to bed. I had enough left to read by the fire, only needing to look up to watch the snowfall in the quiet night.

I was lost to the story when my phone ringing made me jump. Surely Trisha had just realized it would be sort of hard to come back to the Manor the next day.

I grabbed it to pick up and my heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't Trisha.

It was Brandon.

On facetime.

There was nothing I could do to calm down before the call skipped to voice mail, so I just picked up.

"Hey, young lady."

"Hey, old man."

And I didn't need to calm down anymore. Three words and a smile. That was all it'd taken him to make me feel good and at ease, letting my lips purse in a smile. It was delightful and terrifying at the same time. Just seeing him felt like coming back to life from a long, dull dream.

He was in a bedroom, leaning back on a bed with a couple of fat pillows behind his back, wearing a white short-sleeved tee, tight enough to wake up the infernal butterflies hibernating in my belly. Fuck! He looked gorgeous. His hair was shorter than when we'd met, and his stubble had turned into a thin mustache and a little goatee beard trimmed down to the millimeter.

Daughter to a diehard fan of pirates classic stories like Sandokan or The Black Corsair, Brandon's new look automatically made me picture him on the command bridge of a tall ship with a black flag flapping overhead and a sword hanging from his belt. Oh, no, just what I needed, him looking like a pirate. Still lost to my epic visions of Brandon swashbuckling in the high seas, somehow I heard him speak.

"So Amy snitched on me?" he asked.

"She wasn't supposed to tell me? You wanted to just land your mother ship in the garden any given day?"

He raised his eyebrows, glancing up for a heartbeat, like considering the idea.

"Nah, not that much. But maybe surprise you? I mean, to make sure you wouldn't close the gates and ban me from entering."

"I'm hurt. I'd never do something like that."

"Seriously?"

We chuckled and I felt something I can only describe as a warm chill, if that makes any sense.

"How are you? I've heard you're making some noise. Quitting Haunters? Really?"

He shrugged slightly with a mild smile. "Told you I wasn't sure I wanted to keep doing the same. And you told me to let the wingmen fly solo, remember?"

Of course I remembered. But I'd never expected him to be able to quote me like that. Let alone heed my words.

"And what's next?"

"I don't know. I have a whole year to make up my mind, so I'm taking it easy."

I looked at him and frowned. "New glasses," I said, because I'd just noticed it. Not the big thick things anymore. These looked smaller and thinner.

"Yeah! Just another health improvement after your cleansing. Who knew! My double vision is sort of receding, and the doctor says I might be up for surgery to correct it in a couple of months." He grinned. "I could get my sight back and drop the glasses for good!"

"That's awesome! Well, until you turn forty in a couple of days. You know, old people can't help needing readers."

He laughed heartedly and I smiled, enjoying that picture of him.

"So? How's everything in your haunted house?"

"Haunted as usual."

"And with a new roommate, I hear?"

"Jesus! You guys gossip like old ladies. Yeah, Trisha is crashing here on workdays."

"Isaac drove me crazy until I agreed to do an interview for her new project." What? And my so-called friend hadn't told me about it? I was so gonna kill her bloody! "Don't tell her, though. I wanna do it myself."

Oh, okay. Trisha was spared. "Thank you! That's gonna be huge for her!"

"And what about you? What're you doing these days?"

"Nothing, as usual. Jogging, writing, reading, my regular breathtaking stuff."

"C'mon!"

"I went to Pennhurst last week."

"To see your hellhound?"

"Warg. That's how Amy described him. She says he's healthy and beautiful, go figure." I shrugged. "I spent a few hours with him. It was nice."

"You miss him."

"Sort of, yeah. I don't miss having him chained and starving. But it was nice, having someone who—" I realized what I was about to say and shook my head. "Yeah, I miss him but I'm happy for him."

I would've killed Brandon when he slid down on the bed and tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. How could he be so cute and hot at his age?

"I've been wanting to call you," he said, bringing his voice down and taking me completely aback. "Actually, I'd like to see you again. In person, I mean."

I frowned, not knowing what to answer to that. To complete my torture, he flashed his mild sad smile.

"You don't."

"Don't what."

"Wanna see me."

I tried to swallow a giggle and failed miserably. Maybe we'd removed half his brain along with the worms? That I didn't want to see him! The way he raised his eyebrows was the king demanding me to speak up.

"Why would you say that? I'd love to see you." Shit! That sounded just too much.

His eyebrows still up in perfect arches, his whole expression changed, reflecting a glad surprise I wasn't expecting.

"Really? Okay, do you have plans for New Year's Eve?"

"I ain't going to LA."

"I know, I know. Hear me out. There's this old friend from school. He lives in Boston and his birthday is on December 30. So he always pushes it one day and throws a big party for New Year's Eve. He's been inviting me for years, and I'm always too busy to fly all the way to the East Coast just for a birthday party." His warm smile decreed I was doomed. "But I'd totally do it if you come with me."

"C'mon! They're saying airports may not open until mid-January in New England." His frown made me roll my eyes. "Let me show you."

I stood up, shoulders wrapped in my woolen blanket, my pajama shirt three sizes too large, and crossed the room. I switched cameras to show him the view from my window.

"Holy shit! You're snowed in!" he cried.

I switched cameras back to nod with a quick smirk. "Pretty much. New England for you, desert baby."

The way he looked at me made me wish I could pull him out of the phone.

"What," I said, frowning.

"I've missed you," he replied matter-of-factly, making my heart race. "I don't know why. I just do."

"Me too," I grunted before I could stop myself.

I couldn't hold his eyes after that, so I lowered the phone with the excuse of going back to the fireplace. He waited for me to face him again without a word.

"I don't care if airports are closed," he said softly. "We're spending New Year's Eve together. I can't think of a better way to start such a crucial year of my life than with you by my side."

"Oh, shut up," I grunted, looking away again and hoping he wouldn't notice my cheeks on fire and my pounding heart.

"Hey, what is it?" His voice was a warm whisper that made me shiver from head to toe.

"Didn't I tell you I'm a romantic fool?"

"I think so, yes."

"Then shut the fuck up."

He didn't laugh, or even chuckle. He nodded with a smile warmer than his voice.

"Okay. For now." He flipped a switch I didn't know about and went back to his light, carefree mood. "So you won't hex me if I call you?"

"Just don't abuse my good will."

"Meaning only five times a day?"

"Ha! Like you would!"

"You daring me?"

"I would never. I don't know where you got all these silly ideas about me."

"About the one who sneaked out while I was sleeping, without even saying goodbye? I'll refresh your memory in person if you need me to. What were you doing?"

"Me? Reading by the fire. You? Where are you? That's your place?"

"Nah, a hotel in San Francisco. I'm trying to recruit a film-editor for my new project."

"In San Francisco? Aren't they all around your corner in LA?"

"He got married and moved here a couple of years ago, so I'm trying to convince him that he can work with me again from here."

"New project, you said? That's taking it easy?"

"Oh, this is sort of a passion project I have. I'll tell you more in two weeks."

Passion project? The documentary about his last visit to the Manor, a passion project? Little much, Trisha would say?

"Please, I'd love to hear all about it."

"I'm not so sure, but I'll take my chances."

"And what are Isaac and the others gonna do?"

He shrugged, like his teammates' careers were chump change. "I'll produce something for them. Maybe I even let them keep the name of the show, adding something else to avoid confusions."

"Something like Haunters Reloaded?" I teased.

"Yeah, doesn't sound bad, y'know?"

We talked for a whole hour. Like we've known each other our whole lives. Like we'd spent years around each other. Like we had everything in common. To quote the Haunter supreme, it was batshit crazy.

I went to bed with the phone still in my hand, and fell asleep with it against my chest, like he'd done with my own hand over those two nights. I didn't feel euphoric, not even excited. I felt so frigging tired. Like I'd been holding my breath against the flow all these weeks. I had no idea what he, and the universe in general, had in store for me. For now, I could breathe and I could rest.

Thanks to him.