Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)(11)

“Hey, girls. I just realized we never showed you the treehouse, did we?”

We turned around to face her, and shook our heads.

“No, you didn’t,” Angie replied.

“Well, why don’t you let me show you? It’s just near the house.”

“Now?” I couldn’t help but ask. Nighttime didn’t seem like the best time to admire a treehouse.

“I was actually thinking you might like to sleep up there tonight, given how hot it is indoors. There’s mosquito netting and—” She paused abruptly, her voice faltering for a moment. “We used to sleep up there with our Ethan, around this time of the year. I-It really is lovely.”

My voice caught in my throat as I realized who Ethan must be, and Angie immediately softened. “Oh, of course. We’d love to check it out!”

Mrs. Churnley’s round face lit up as Angie grabbed our hands and pulled us back down the stairs toward her. She waddled into the kitchen, pulled open a drawer beneath the counter, and retrieved four flashlights. She handed one to each of us, keeping one for herself, before leading us outside.

Cricket song filled the night and the gentlest of breezes touched our skin as we crossed the porch and rounded the house. She took us to a tree-lined enclosure around the back that none of us had paid much attention to since our arrival.

She stopped at a tree with a ladder running down it, and as I tilted my head upward, beneath the light of our collective flashlights, I laid eyes on a quaint little treehouse, square in shape and lined with flower vines. It had four glassless windows covered with meshing, and the construction showed its age. It was also at least twenty feet up, though the promise of the view that it would afford was enticing, and I couldn’t imagine Mrs. Churnley suggesting we go up there if it wasn’t safe.

“Why don’t you all head on up and I’ll send Mr. Churnley out with some suitable bedding,” she said. “You’ll find mattresses there already— three of them.” She sighed wistfully, then chortled, running a hand over her ample stomach. “These days Mr. Churnley and I wouldn’t make it halfway up the ladder.”

With that, she turned and left, leaving the three of us to decide which one of us would head on up there first. Predictably, it was Angie who volunteered for the challenge, and mounted the creaky ladder, while Lauren and I shone our flashlights to light her way.

“First thing you gotta do is clear the area for snakes and spiders,” Lauren ordered. She was already getting antsy about being outside in the dark, shifting from one foot to the other, and scratching at invisible itches on her arms.

“And for cockroaches, rats, termites, moths, earwigs, weevils—” Angie extended Lauren’s list of horrors as she climbed, until Lauren told her to shut up.

Once Angie had actually reached the top, however, and pushed through the door to look around inside, she reported back in the affirmative. “Wow, looks amazingly pest-proof!”

“You’d better be sure about that,” Lauren replied suspiciously.

“Pinky promise. The wood is well sealed, with no gaping holes, and I think this mesh stuff really works. Seems to have kept everything out over the years… except for dust… and maybe the odd patch of mold. But hey, we’ve got mold on our ceiling inside too.” Angie’s head suddenly disappeared from sight, and the floorboards creaked. “Woah!” she called a minute later. “The view up here, it’s… ah-mazing! Get up here, girls!”

I didn’t need asking twice. I gripped the ladder and scaled it, and when I reached the top, I realized exactly why Angie was gushing. The view was absolutely breathtaking. We could see for miles across the fields from up here, thanks to the moonlight. It bathed the landscape in a stunning pale hue, making it look surreal in its beauty, almost fairy-tale like.

I heard a grunt behind me and turned to find Lauren clambering up the last of the steps and staggering inside—careful to immediately shut the treehouse’s door behind her. I thought the first thing she’d do was make sure Angie wasn’t lying about there being no pests, but her attention was stolen by the view too.

“Okay,” she said, standing next to us as we gazed out of the windows, “this is pretty awesome.”

We admired the view for another minute or two, before directing our flashlights to our more immediate surroundings. There were three mattresses, propped up by wooden blocks on the floor, and one little bedside table with a cupboard, whose interior was empty. If there had once been a more elaborate set up here, I guessed they’d stripped it down after Ethan had passed away.

“Special delivery!” Mr. Churnley’s cheery voice drifted up from the ground.

Angie hurried out and down the ladder to collect a large shoulder bag stuffed with bedding from the old man, before thanking him and climbing back up.

He’d brought thick sheets for us to cover the old mattresses with, as well as three pillows, a water bottle, and a black waist bag containing keys in case we needed to return to the house. The water was an especially thoughtful touch, considering we probably would get thirsty during the night. We made our beds, gawked at the view one last time, and settled down for the night, enjoying the fragrant breeze wafting through the mesh and over our skin.

All in all, I was grateful for Mrs. Churnley’s suggestion. It was so much more pleasant out here than in that stuffy wooden house.