“Don’t know. Never been inside. Felix keeps it locked up tight.” It was a lie to say I had never wondered what was inside the mystery room, but I had resigned myself to never knowing.

She didn’t look pleased with my answer, but I had nothing else to offer. After I showed her where we kept the fireplace wood and the matches in the living room, we climbed the staircase.

“The bedrooms are that way,” I mentioned pointlessly, and then turned in the other direction. “And down here is the library.”

I opened the first door, showing us into the large office. Savannah gasped as she walked in. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, filled with every kind of book imaginable for 1907. A leaning ladder allowed you to reach the top shelf. “How many of these have you read?” She dragged her finger along the spines, stopping to read a few of the titles.

“All of them,” I replied, sinking down into the overstuffed chair I had claimed as my own. The back wall of shelves was cut by two large windows. You could almost pretend you were outside, if you tried hard enough.

Savannah stopped, turning back to me with her mouth open. “All of them?”

I laughed. “I’ve had a lot of free time, sweetheart.” I knew the average person could read 200 to 300 words a minute. By my estimation, I had probably read about 200 million words. And those words had kept me from losing my mind.

“Can I read them?”

“Of course. They aren’t mine. They’re ours. You're just as much a part of this house as I am.” I immediately realized my thoughtlessness as soon as I saw her frown. “Fuck, I’m an idiot. Ignore me.”

She offered me a small smile. “You’re right, though. I am a part of this house now. I might as well get used to it.” She paused, looking around the room. “For now anyways. Where are those occult books you were talking about? Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

I showed her the small section of books about witchcraft–most readers in 1907 would’ve rather ignored them, but Felix seemed to be pretty open-minded in his choice of books. Ironic, considering how closed off he was now.

As Savannah stepped around me, I didn’t pull away when our shoulders brushed, enjoying the feeling of her body touching mine. We picked out a book, flipping through it as I actively tried to touch her fingers with mine, both of us pouring over the same page. I felt sparks, and wondered if she felt the same. Or maybe those feelings were reserved just for the under-thirty crowd.