Can't Get Over You || Pope Heyward

12

Chapter 12 -

Sitting on the boat, Hallie Routledge couldn't shake the unease that crept over her. The familiarity of the vessel, once a source of comfort, now felt oddly distant and out of place. She shifted on the bench beside the driver, her grip on the parchment tightening.

As a gentle breeze tousled her hair, the brunette was grateful for the protection of her hoodie, shielding her from the cool evening air that settled in after the departure of the sun. Pope stood confidently at the wheel, his hat perched atop his head, a look of intense focus etched on his features as he gazed ahead.

The heavy silence between them weighed on her shoulders, stirring a restlessness within her. Pope had yet to speak a word beyond the promise to show her what was happening, opting for action over lengthy explanations.

The boat glided smoothly into one of the town's weathered docks, where Pope expertly maneuvered it into a secure position, deftly tying it up. His voice barely above a murmur, he uttered a curt "let's go" to the girl, his actions filled with purpose as he disembarked and motioned for her to follow.

Hallie obediently trailed behind him, her footsteps almost hesitant as she allowed him to lead her through the narrow streets towards the town's graveyard. As they approached the wrought iron gates, her features contorted in confusion. "I asked for an explanation," she interjected, her gaze fixed on the boy. "Not a tour of the graveyard."

Pausing in front of the imposing gates, Pope turned to face her, her skepticism evident in her halted steps. "Both of our answers are in there," he responded, a subtle nod indicating the cemetery beyond. "You just gotta help me out." The weight of his words hung in the air, adding an air of mystery to their impending journey.

The girl's confusion lingered, her arms crossing over her chest in a gesture of both defiance and uncertainty. With a single eyebrow arching skeptically, she voiced her need for clarity. "I'm going to need more context, because I fail to see the connection here," she declared, waving the paper she clutched in her hand.

Pope's eyes rolled in exasperation at her lack of comprehension. "Did you even bother to read the paper?" he retorted, a hint of frustration coloring his tone.

Annoyed at the implication that she hadn't done her due diligence, she huffed. "Of course, I have," she retorted, her grip tightening on the paper. "It's the family tree of the Redfields, the ones tied to the lighthouse."

A shake of his head dispelled her assumptions. "Wrong. It's Olivia Redfield's family tree," he corrected.

Perplexed, she pressed for more information. "And who, do tell, is Olivia?"

Pope turned to head into the graveyard. "We're about to find out," he replied enigmatically, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on."

Hallie Routledge couldn't help but roll her eyes in exasperation as she trailed behind the boy, his confident strides leading them through the maze of headstones and winding paths. His familiarity with the graveyard was unsettling, the way he navigated with an uncanny sense of purpose, but she knew he must have came here a thousand times looking for it. Pope always dug into his research.

Stopping abruptly in front of a monolithic grave adorned with the name Olivia Redfield, Pope turned to face the girl with a mixture of apprehension and determination in his eyes. The weight of his request hung heavy in the air as he spoke. "I need you to go inside," he admitted, his voice tinged with urgency.

"Are you out of your mind?" Hallie shot back, her brows furrowing in disbelief as she regarded the boy with a mix of surprise and defiance. Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, a protective barrier forming between herself and the ominous tomb. "I'm not setting foot in there." The thought of exploring the depths of the grave sent a shiver down her spine, a sense of unease creeping over her as she stood her ground.