As Tyler leads me down a small walkway past the kitchen, I realize this part of the house isn't part of the usual tour. Unlike the rest of the house, the walls are not a perfect eggshell white, and the floor isn't polished to perfection. Cobwebs line the ceiling, and the wood creaks under our weight. Tyler's hand covers mine in a soft yet firm hold, and his rough thumb grasses over the pad of my hand every so often, calming the nerves racing through me as I blindly follow Tyler to places unknown.
I can hear some people in the kitchen cooking and chopping, getting everything ready for lunch, but no one gives us a second look as we continue down the path away from the rest of the house. As we continue down the walkway, I notice it gets narrower and narrower before it goes down a pair of ol
