She glanced down at the phone she’d placed in the console. She had Samson’s number. Dare she call it? She’d hate to wake him to drive into town to get her. But who else did she have?
She’d try one more time.
The engine finally caught, rumbling unevenly to life. She sagged forward—until headlights lit her rearview. Her breath hitched, panic snapping her spine straight. She twisted in her seat—then exhaled in a rush when Samson’s truck rolled up beside her.
Relief swept through her so hard, it made her dizzy. Relief…and something warmer she refused to name.
She pushed her door open and stood, leaving her car idling as she leaned into his open passenger window.
“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. “Something came up.”
A different alarm pulsed through her. “Is everything okay? Your parents?”
“They’re fine. Everything’s fine now.” He nodded toward the darkened bar. “Closed early?”
“I had a big group, but when they left, it was too quiet.” She shrugged. “Louis can dock my pay.”
He grinned. “Ready to head home? I’ll follow you.” He reached for the gearshift on the steering column.
Home. She didn’t really think of it that way, but that’s what it was. She nodded, and climbed back into her car, ignoring the fact that it was idling a little rough. She just needed it to last a few more weeks. Months, if possible. A year, maybe.
Her car protested the drive but held together, sputtering into the driveway. She glanced at the looming house, grateful for the weak glow of the porch bulb.
She almost sat too long, except Samson was waiting. Watching.
When she opened the door, he shut off his engine and stepped out, closing the door with a thunk behind him.
“Everything should be okay,” he said. “Don’t want to have to worry about you spending the night in your car again.”
She turned to look at him, confused. What was he talking about? Yes, he’d caught her sleeping in her car, but she hadn’t told him why.
“I’ll be back tomorrow.” He rested a hand on the door handle of his truck. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
She nodded, though she was lying—both to him and to herself. She took a deep, fortifying breath, waved over her shoulder, and headed into the house.
Once again, Samson woke her by knocking on the window of her car. She bolted upright, her heart hammering.
“You can’t keep sleeping out here,” he said, his tone caught between scolding and concern.
She fumbled with the door and stumbled out onto the crushed-shell drive, her leg tingling where she’d hooked it awkwardly over the back of the seat. His hand hovered as if ready to steady her, and that simple gesture made her throat tighten.
“What happened?” His gaze swept over her, sharp and worried.
She shook her head quickly, tucking her hair behind her ears to hide her face. She couldn’t tell him about the apparition, about the whispered sound of her name that threaded through every dream. If he thought she was fragile—or worse, unstable—she didn’t know if she could stand it.
“Did you hear something?” he pressed, taking a step closer. His presence always filled the space between them, steady and solid, like he could anchor her if she let him.
That, at least, wasn’t a lie. She nodded.
“I mean, it’s an old house. It’s going to make noise.”
Yes, and it did. The creaks and groans she could live with. But the whispers, the column of light, that she couldn’t explain. She would give anything to have somewhere else to stay. She was definitely hitting up Allison’s shop later to see if she had some kind of herb or crystal for protection, but she wondered what she’d tell the other woman when she went.
She didn’t want the townspeople to think she’d lost her mind.
She didn’t want Samson to think that, either.
“I got you a security light for when you come home at night. It’s motion activated.” He held the box up in one hand. “And I remembered I never put the ladder away.”
