Still, the thought of spending the night here after what they’d seen the other night made her stomach clench. She had a protection packet that Allison had made for her, something like Leslie had made for Sam. She would spend the night at home, holding the packet close.
And if it didn’t work, there was always the backseat of her car.
Keys in hand, she forced herself up the walk, shoulders stiff with tension. Her body screamed for rest, but her nerves thrummed.
“Gigi, help me,” she murmured under her breath as she pushed open the front door.
She didn’t linger downstairs. She went straight up, pulling Allison’s pouch from her pocket and scattering herbs over her bedroom threshold with hands that shook more than she wanted to admit. No shower tonight—no way was she stripping down, not when she needed to be ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. She’d sleep in her clothes, sneakers still on her feet.
She flopped onto the air mattress, staring up at the cracked plaster ceiling, her thoughts drifting inevitably to Sam. She hadn’t even had time to reflect on what last night had meant, if anything, for their relationship. She didn’t know how much longer he planned to stay in Phantom Bayou. She knew his patience with his dad was running thin as his dad got more independent, which was good for the pastor, but not great for Sam. And their future, whatever that might be.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to will her brain to shut off.
Besides, if her eyes were closed, she wouldn’t see any ghosts. Wasn’t that how it worked?
Th noise downstairs jolted her upright in bed. What was that? Was that the door?
Then, “Erielle!”
But it wasn’t a ghost this time. It was Samson.
Again, she had trouble getting off the air mattress. “I’m here!” she called as she struggled.
His footsteps echoed on the stairs. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, appearing in her doorway.
He looked terrible, his eyes shadowed, his lips thinned. Stress etched lines on his face that hadn’t been there this morning. He moved closer to her as she finally bounded to her feet.
“What am I doing here? I live here.”
“I thought you’d come out to the cabin. I texted you I couldn’t make it to Rumrunners. There’s…a lot going on and I need to talk to you about it, but you weren’t there.”
Honestly, she didn’t even remember looking at her phone. Rumrunners had been busy, like people knew she needed a distraction. And she’d just expected that Sam had been too overwhelmed, so she hadn’t expected a text.
But now here he was, and her heart lifted.
“I thought maybe…” He took a step closer. “I thought maybe you regretted last night.”
That surprised a laugh out of her. “I thought you did.”
Something loosened in him—his shoulders dropping, the hardness around his mouth easing. He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms, holding her like a drowning man clinging to shore. But he didn’t kiss her. Just pressed his face into her hair and let out a long, shuddering breath.
Of course. His world had been torn apart today. He needed her. She tightened her arms around him, wishing she could absorb the weight crushing him.
“Come on,” he said finally, voice muffled against her hair. “Let’s go back to the cabin.” His arms loosened, ready to let her go.
Her whole body sagged. She didn’t have the strength to climb down the stairs, even to walk out to the truck.
But she knew why he didn’t want to be here. She lifted her head, ready to tell him she understood?—
And froze.
Erielle’s nails digging into his forearms alerted him before the hair on the back of his neck rose.
“What? What is it?”
But she wasn’t looking at him. Her wide, terrified eyes locked on something behind his shoulder.
He didn’t want to turn. Every nerve in him screamed not to look. But he had to.
