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I forcefully kept my mind from thoughts of ghostly presences, terrifying shrieks, or angry correspondents, and tried to find something more peaceful to let my mind turn over as I drifted off. Somehow, my thoughts turned to Michael Tucker, to his conflicted face as he told me there was no point in making plans for ourselves, that they’d all get ruined anyway. And then to the strong muscles of his forearms, his hands, the broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his deep green Henley shirt. He might be a Tucker, I told myself, but I could still appreciate his aesthetic appeal. The man was attractive.
I’d just begun to drift into the calm happy place between waking and sleep, when an ear-splitting scream sounded from just beside me. I shot straight up to sitting and searched the darkness around me, terrified to discover a set of beady eyes glowing in the darkness, staring right at me.
The funny thing is, I’d never thought of myself as a screamer. But it turns out, I am. And the scream that I let loose was ten times louder and more terrifying than the one that had frightened me in the first place.
Michael burst into my room, switched the lights on, and rushed to the bed, and putting his arms around me as he pulled me against his chest.
His very bare, very muscled chest.
“Are you all right?” He asked, his voice breathless. “What happened?”
I let him hold me, but my eyes searched the room my cheek pressed against his chest. “Someone was here,” I managed.
“In the room? You saw someone?” His grip on me tightened, and his voice had become steely.
I nodded against his shoulder, but as my panic began to recede, other things began to register. He smelled clean. And manly. A little like hay or grass, maybe. But good. Reassuring.
He held me tightly against him, his strong legs to one side of the bed as my heart rate descended. I could feel the beating of his heart against my cheek, and it was comforting.
“Are you okay?” He asked, his voice soft.
“Yeah,” I managed.
“I should check the house. See if there’s anyone here.”
I nodded, though the idea of him wandering through the house if someone was really here was terrifying. “Okay.” I climbed out of bed and tugged down my nightshirt, unwilling to let him out of my sight, even if he was about to lead us both to our deaths. Better than sitting here alone, waiting for his screams to echo through the house.
I followed at his heels, creeping through every room in the old creaking house, flicking on lights and checking closets. And there was no one inside. No one but us. We even checked the creepy attic.
“Do you think maybe you dreamed it?” he asked.
I thought about that. “I had been almost asleep,” I said, accepting the glass of water he offered me as we stood in the kitchen. Michael stood next to the sink, completely disregarding the fact he wore nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants that rested quite low on his hips. I was trying to be just as nonchalant about the fact, but if I was honest, he had the nicest body I’d ever seen up close, all molded muscles and sinew. “But that scream pretty much woke me up.”
“Yeah, you screaming woke me right up too.”
“Not my scream.” I whacked him with the back of my hand, and it felt a little like hitting a cliff face—hard and unyielding. But warm. I pushed away thoughts of being in his embrace. I’d think about how nice that had been later. “That same horrible scream we’ve been hearing. The sage didn’t work at all.”
“Shocking.”
“Your sarcasm isn’t helping right now.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He paused, his gaze dropping mine and finding the floor. “Listen, are you going to be okay to go back to bed? I mean—”
“Hey,” I said, putting some bravado into my voice that I definitely didn’t feel. “Of course. I’m a big girl.”
“You can sleep in my room again,” he offered. “If you want.”
I didn’t respond right away, but thought about how I’d feel knowing he was right there, versus trying to be comfortable in the bigger room alone, where I’d most definitely seen a set of eyes in the darkness. “Um. If you’re sure?”
“Of course,” he said. “We’ll get things sorted out tomorrow.”
I followed him upstairs, feeling a little sheepish about my own terror, and climbed into the sleeping bag I’d put back into his room when I’d brought in the Aerobed. “Thanks,” I said.
“It’s nothing, Addie,” he murmured.
And then I lay there in the dark for a long time, listening as his breathing turned even and deep. And finally, I slept.
15
