“Can I come over?”
“Of course,” I tell my best friend. She just got off work and called me as she was driving. We usually text, so I know something serious is going on with her when she calls. “Text me when you’re here and I’ll turn off the alarm. Are you hungry?”
“Starving. I worked through my lunch break.”
“I’ll warm up some leftovers for you.”
“And pour me some wine.”
“Rough day at work?” I grab a Harry Potter bathrobe and slip it on, then quietly tiptoe down the hall to peak in at Emma. She’s still sleeping soundly, looking so peaceful.
“Work is always rough in a sense, but that’s not the issue. I’ll tell you when I get there.”
I take the backstairs down into the kitchen and pull out leftovers. There’s not a lot, which isn’t surprising considering how much the boys in the family eat. I heat up a plate for Jamie and grab a couple cookies for myself.
Jamie texts me when she’s here. I shut off the alarm and step onto the porch to let her in. A dark shadow moves across the yard, and jerk my head around for a better look. The wind picks up, sending a chill through me.
What the hell was that?
“Is that for me?” Jamie asks with a laugh, seeing the glass of wine I’m holding.
“It is.”
“You really are my best friend.” She takes the wine and gulps some down.
“Did you see that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “It looked like…a shadow or something.”
Jamie shrugs. “There are lots of shadows. Though it is creepy out here. When are they going to cut that corn?”
“Soon, I think.” I sweep my eyes over the yard before turning to go on. Archer and I purchased fifteen acres of farmland, but only used five of those acres for our house, pool, and yard. A farmer rents the rest, and we’re surrounded by cornfields.
A fat orange cat comes waddling down the stairs. I scoop him up, kissing the top of his furry head.
“Neville gets fatter every time I see him,” Jamie says, shaking her head. We go into the kitchen and dig into our food.
“What’s going on?” I ask, breaking a cookie in half so it’ll fit inside the glass of milk I want to dip it in.
“I’m pretty sure Josh is going to propose.”
“Oh my god! Wait…that’s bad?”
“We’ve only been dating for seven months and I…I don’t know. When I think about him getting down on one knee…I don’t feel excited.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That’s a pretty big indicator the timing isn’t right.”
She takes another drink of wine. “It’s not just the timing. It’s…it’s him. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy and all, but he doesn’t give me butterflies. You knew Archer was the one, right? You were totally and completely sure.”
“Right.”
“That’s what I—”
She cuts off when something bangs against the side of the house. Shit. I never turned on the alarm system. I grab my phone to do so when the motion sensor in front of the house sounds.
“What the fuck?” Jamie whispers. She sets her wine down and inches away from the kitchen island, looking out the large window in the breakfast nook. And then she jumps, hand flying to her chest. “I saw the shadow too!”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She turns back to me, eyes wide. “Something ran across the patio.”
“Did it look like a person?” I look down at my phone screen and quickly arm the alarm system. It beeps once, letting me know it’s on, and the sound gives me a little bit of relief.
“I don’t think so. But it—”
The motion sensor is triggered again, and my phone dings in my hand.
“Which one is that?” Jamie asks.
“Front door.”
My heart races as the worst-case scenarios flash through my head. Any second now, someone is going to kick down the door and take us hostage. When that doesn’t happen, I turn off the lights in case someone really is lurking outside. Jamie picks up her wine again as I go to the screen mounted on a wall in the kitchen to pull up the different security camera views.
As I’m looking at the view of the porch—and seeing nothing—something hits the sliding glass door off the breakfast nook. Jamie lets out a tiny shriek and I freeze, eyes going wide. I switch the camera view and see something black streak across the screen.
“Maybe you should call Weston,” Jamie suggests.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “He’s home with Jackson.” And really, there’s no need to alert the police. We heard some weird noises and the motion sensors went off. Bunnies have set them off before.
“Will Archer be back soon?”
“I doubt it. He said his patient had a perforated bowel. I don’t really know what that means but it sounds like a timely fix.” I let out a breath and go back to the island to finish my cookie.
Before I can take bite, a low growl echoes through the kitchen, followed by a hiss.
“Neville?” I hurry off my barstool to see him by the sliding glass doors, fur raised. He hisses again before turning and high-tailing it out of there.
“Something is out there.” Jamie downs the rest of her wine. “What do we do?”
“All the doors are locked,” I say, needing to assure myself. “Watch the cameras. I need to go check on Emma.”
I dash up the stairs and sneak into her room. She’s still asleep, and her windows are closed and locked. Like they always are. But I had to check anyway.
Jamie is leaning on the counter, watching the cameras. “There is nothing out there,” she says, pointing to a view of the patio. “But I heard something again, and now Bella is over there growling.”
My eyes widen. “There’s not a person out there. Those cameras would pick out a person.”
“Then what is it?”
Jamie meets my gaze and we both think the same thing at the same time. “Ghosts.”
*
“I knew it felt like Halloween, but no one believed me.” I grab a canister of salt from the cabinet. I’m a logical person who likes technology and facts. I graduated at the top of my class from MIT for goodness sake. But that doesn’t mean ghosts don’t freak me out every now and then. And use tried-and-true movie methods for warding them off. Hence the salt.
“Should we try to talk to it?” Jamie starts forward and I grab her arm.
“No! We can’t invite it in. It might get Emma!”
“Vampires have to be invited in, not ghosts. I think ghosts just come in regardless. I mean, they can just go through walls, right?”
I shake my head. “I have no idea.”
“What do we do now?”
“Wait until sunrise and hope we don’t get possessed?”
Jamie’s eyes widen. “I don’t know if you’re joking or not, but you know I’m fucking scared of ghosts. My grandma’s house was haunted and growing up there traumatized me.”
“I stayed there with you a few times,” I remind her. And if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t even entertain the idea of the supernatural. We were young when we stayed there, but I can’t forget the freaky shit that happened nightly. “What did we do then? We’ll just do that and we’ll be fine.”
“We’d hid under blankets and cried.”
“Dammit.”
Bella and Lily come racing down the back staircase and slide to a stop, backs arching. They look out the sliding glass doors and hiss. Fear prickles down the back of my neck.
“I need to check on Emma again.”
“I’m coming with you so you don’t end up burning on the ceiling.”
“You’re a true friend.”
She nods. “I know.”
Of course, Emma is sound asleep and there are no ghosts lurking in her room. Well, none that we can see. Standing in the comfort of her blush and gold colored nursery, I feel safe, and part of me thinks it’s silly to be so scared of a ghost.
But another part refuses to look in the mirror above her dresser bec
ause I’m positive my reflection will turn demonic. I said I was logical, right? Yeah…scratch that.
“Quinn,” Jamie whisper-yells. “Come here. I think it’s back.”
Leaving Emma’s door open, I dash into the hall, finding Jamie in the threshold of my bedroom. She waves me in and points to the window that overlooks the backyard. “It’s back.”
4
Archer
I do my final round on the patient, sure I’ll be seeing him again soon. He didn’t follow any of the previous medical advice given to him, which landed him here in the first place. Yawning, I make my way to the locker room and change out of my scrubs.
Once I’m changed, I check my phone and see a dozen texts from Quinn. My first thought is something bad happened to her or Emma. I unlock my phone and read the first one.
Quinn: Pretty sure our house is haunted.
Quinn: Well, not the house, the yard.
Quinn: The ghosts are setting off the motion sensors.
Quinn: I’m a Ghostbuster. Except it wasn’t a ghost.
The next ten texts are pictures of three black kittens and a mama cat. Quinn’s friend Jamie is over, holding the kittens up for the camera. They’re in the mudroom, and I know Quinn already set them up with soft blankets, food, and water.
And she’s going to want to keep them all.
Shaking my head, I put my phone back in my pocket and leave the hospital. Jamie left by the time I get back home, and Quinn is asleep on the couch.
“Boo,” I whisper, putting my face close to hers. She jerks awake, playfully shoving me away. She sits up, accidentally knocking the baby monitor off the couch.
“Funny. I legitimately thought there was a ghost outside for a while there.”
“Ghosts aren’t real.”
“Keep on telling yourself that, Jones.”
I brush her messy hair back and plant a big kiss on her lips. “Ready to go back to bed?”
“Yeah.” She takes my hands and lets me pull her to her feet. “Want to see the kittens first?”
“Sure. Have named them yet?”
“Binx, Salem, and Dobby for the kittens and I think I’m going to be totally cliché and name the mommy Midnight.”
“It’s fitting. Funny that they’re all black.”
Quinn looks up and smiles. “Told you it feels like Halloween.”
“But it’s still September.”
She makes a face and I find her so adorable. “The cats don’t know that.”
We go into the mudroom and Quinn gushes over the cats for a few minutes before we go upstairs and get settled into bed. Quinn cuddles up next to me, and I wrap her tightly in my arms.
“Love you,” she says quietly, eyes already falling shut.
“Love you too.”
I’m almost asleep when the motion sense is triggered again. I shoot up and grab my phone, pulling up the screen to see what’s going on. There’s nothing there. I rewind a few seconds to see what set it off, and all I can see is a faint shadow moving across the sidewalk leading to the front porch.
I can’t argue with Quinn anymore. It does feel like Halloween.
Wes & Scarlet: Catching Up
1
Scarlet
My heart hammers in my chest and my throat feels like it’s so tight I can’t breathe. I jolt awake, sitting up covered in a cold sweat. It’s two-thirty AM and I’m alone in bed. I usually hate when Weston works nights, but I’m glad he’s not here to see me living this nightmare over and over again.
I cup my face in my shaking hands and let out a deep breath. Vomit rises in my throat and I swallow hard, pushing it down. I’ve had this same dream almost every night for the last week. My anxiety has been through the roof, which is new for me.
Everything in my life is going right. I’ve gotten all that I’ve wanted and way more than I deserve.
I’m married.
We have custody over Jackson.
I have two cats and Weston is fine with me getting another.
Dad’s doing much better now that I’m able to go visit him nearly every single day.
Heather got released from prison and is making great progress in her group home.
I even started a part-time job at the library while Jackson is at school during the day.
So why do I have these nightmares? Is it because I feel like I’m too undeserving? That I’ve done so much bad shit my karma is finally catching up with me?
Or is it because I’m terrified of things crashing and burning and I’ll wake up to find I’m right where I was before.
Alone, scared, and desperate. Forced to do things that went against my moral compass. Things that broke that compass.
I lay back down and close my eyes, but I know I won’t be able to sleep. I’m tired, but the anxiety kicks in, lighting up the worry fire that can burn all damn night long. And then into the morning. And the afternoon, And that evening. I never realized how paralyzing anxiety was until I started to feel it.
And I never felt it this bad since before I took a nannying gig for some rich couple in a Podunk town in Indiana.
The other shoe isn’t going to drop. Weston isn’t going to randomly decide he doesn’t want to live with me anymore or that I’m a bad influence for Jackson. My past as been forgiven, by the entire Dawson family, no less. I’ve talked about my past cons, told some rather impressive stories too, and everyone has accepted it and knows I want to move on.
I’m not Scarlet Cooper, girl from the ghetto anymore.
I’m Scarlet Dawson, wife to the most amazing, thoughtful, caring, and sexy man in the world. I’m Jackson’s stepmom, which is the most important job I could ever have. And hopefully, I’ll add first time mom-to-be on that list too.
It hits me then why my anxiety is so high. Wes and I have been trying for a baby for months with no luck. I’ve never had regular cycles and knew it would require a miracle to get knocked up, but it never bothered me.
And now I’m feeling like it’s my punishment for doing all the shady shit in my life.
Logical, I know, but maybe life only gives you so many do-overs. I got one, and I shouldn’t be greedy. I have my husband and my stepson. We have our house and our health.
I shouldn’t want more, right?
Well, I do, and what bothers me almost as much as feeling like I’m undeserving, is the fact that there’s no conning or scamming my way into this. I swore I left that life behind, and I did, but it was always there as a safety net. If we got into money trouble or needed some sort of emergency home repair, I could go out and get us cold, hard cash.
With Wes being the sheriff of the town and my little part time work, we’re more than getting by. Conning men out of their money at bars…I don’t want to go back to that version of me every again.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I get out and tip-toe down the hall, peeking in at Jackson before I head downstairs. He’s sound asleep, but kicked off all his blankets. I sneak into his room and pull the PAW Patrol blanket back up to his shoulders.
“Thank you,” he mumbles.
“You’re welcome,” I tell him and smooth out his hair. “Get some rest.”
“Okay,” he replies sleepily. “Love you.”
“I love you too, buddy.”
I sneak out of the room and close the door halfway. Padding down the stairs, I make myself some tea and go back upstairs and into bed. I should try to get some sleep since we have a busy day planned tomorrow. I’m babysitting Emma and taking both her and Jackson to the park.
I finish my tea and lay down, trying to quiet the voices in my head. My hand lands on my stomach and feel the familiar ache in my heart that’s been haunting me since before I married Weston.
He wants another baby, and I want so badly to give him one. It’s normal for these things to take time, I know, but I can’t help but feel like karma is finally catching up to me, and I know deep down that’s the root of this new anxiety.
2
Weston
I put the car in park and get out, squinting from the light of the setting sun. It’s been a long ass day and I’m looking forward to snuggling up with Scarlet after dinner. Thinking about her pretty face—and her tight pussy—gets me through the day. Somedays I wake up and have to look to make sure she’s still there, not because I think she’d run away or anything, but because I don’t feel like I deserve someone like her.
She’s everything I could ever want. Yeah, she’s gone through some hard times, but she came out stronger. And she was tough as nails before. I go around the house and enter through the backdoor, stepping into the kitchen.
The house is quiet, and I wonder for a second if Scarlet and Jackson are still at the park. Then I see her purse and phone on the kitchen table.
“Scar?” I call and get no answer. Someone shuffles upstairs, and I hear one of Jackson’s toy cars rev its engine. Taking off my shoes, I go through the kitchen. Scarlet is asleep on the couch, and I pause, smiling as I look at her. The floor creaks under my feet and she wakes up, rubbing her eyes and looking a little confused.
“You feeling okay?” I ask her, and take a seat next to her on the couch. She’s not a napper like this.
“Yeah,” she tells me and pushes her blonde hair back. “I’ve been tired all day. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
That’s right. She’s mentioned feeling tired a few times this week, actually. I raise my eyebrows. “Or maybe…”
“I wish.” She shakes her head and tries to hide her dejection. She’s good at hiding her emotions and putting up a front. Really good. It makes her hard to read when she’s trying to cover up her feelings. She doesn’t have to anymore, but she never wants to upset me or anyone else.
“You’ve been tired all week.”
“That’s just one symptom.”
“Not everyone pukes nonstop like Quinn.”
“True,” she agrees and stretches her arms out. I pull her into an embrace, falling back onto the couch. We stay tangled together for a while and then she gets up to make dinner. I go upstairs to change and play with Jackson until dinner is ready.
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