He needed to get up and move around. Shake it off.
Bringing in the scope would help. And maybe he’d have a word with whoever was out there. Bolstered at the thought, he jumped up and headed for the patio.
Outside, insects were droning loud. Garrett glanced up at Lyra, remembering Rachel’s story of the star-crossed lovers.
He blew out a breath and shook his head. Best not to go there.
He carried in the scope and packed everything up, then went back for the tripod and fans. When he was done inside, he grabbed the spray bottle and stepped back into the muggy summer night. The candles were still flickering, putting off a sharp scent. It was eerie—knowing there was a ghost hanging around—a stranger he couldn’t see.
Garrett wondered why Rachel didn’t use mirrors more often. If he could, he’d be checking his surroundings constantly to be sure he was alone.
Then again, maybe it was better not to know.
Rachel said Florida was filled with spirits. He imagined what it must be like walking past a mirror in a busy store and not knowing if the people he saw were dead or alive. He wondered if the ghosts showed signs of how they had died…
Garrett was more grateful than ever that he lived out in the country. Only one ghost to deal with—at least, for the time being. But how the hell did you start a conversation with a dead person?
He glanced at the spray bottle in his hand. It felt like a weapon. That wasn’t him. He set it on the table, then ran his fingers through his hair.
Best to focus on the person part. Garrett decided to talk to him as such.
“I don’t know who you are or what you need, but Rachel’s been through a lot. Give her some time. Please.”
He blew out the candles and grabbed the spray bottle before heading back inside. He closed the door, then sprayed it down twice.
“You’re starting to be paranoid, like me.”
Garrett jumped at Rachel’s voice. The creepy atmosphere outside must have hit him harder than he thought.
“Sorry,” she said. She was holding a small stack of books, hugging them to her chest.
Garrett shook his head. “No need to apologize. Guess I’m just feeling a little high-strung after today.”
“I feel like I should apologize for that too. You wouldn’t have had such a stressful day if you hadn’t come to my rescue.”
He couldn’t have slept another night without knowing she was okay. Not that he’d been sleeping much lately anyway.
“Friends help each other out.”
“Yeah.”
Her voice was small, like the fake smile pasted on her face. It couldn’t break through the tension around her eyes. All he saw there was sorrow.
She walked to the kitchen counter and set the books down. “Here are the books you wanted to borrow.”
“Thanks.”
“Could I have the spray bottle?”
He nodded and handed it over. “Rachel—”
“It’s late. We should try to get some sleep.”
“Yeah. I guess we should.”
“Well…good night.”
“Night.”
She turned and walked away without another word. Something was obviously upsetting her. Beyond what she’d been through and knowing that there was a ghost close by. For once, she didn’t seem to want to talk.
Garrett didn’t know how to help her. Yet.
He picked up the books and headed to his room. Once there, he closed his blinds before stripping and pulling on his pajama pants. The thought of someone lurking outside—watching them, listening… It was freaking him out. And Rachel lived with that every single day.
He couldn’t imagine how awful that must be. Surely there was a way to keep the ghosts away. He was even interested in the solution for himself. It was creepy as hell to think about walking around not knowing how many ghosts he might be brushing elbows with.
He made sure the bedside lamp was on before turning off the overhead lights. At this rate, he would probably sleep that way. He slid into bed with Rachel’s books, but didn’t open them immediately. His thoughts were spinning too much to concentrate.
She’d dropped several information bombs on him. Of all the ones to fixate on, he kept thinking about her saying that she hadn’t been with a man in years. She had dated at least a dozen guys in that time span. Garrett hated every single one of them.
They disrespected her, talked over her, didn’t seem to pay attention or listen when she spoke.
He wanted to think that he would have been happy for her if she settled down with a decent person, but couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter, because she had seemed to seek out the worst example of a human being to date. If Rachel brought any of them home, her mother must have been mortified. But then, that might have been part of the allure.
Garrett wondered again if her mother had something to do with why Rachel kept shutting him out. It was obvious she felt the chemistry between them. She seemed to enjoy his company. But damned if her mother wasn’t practically trying to arrange a marriage between the two.
His own mom had repeatedly mentioned that she was surprised to receive so many invitations to events hosted by the Montgomerys. Rachel’s mother had even openly talked to his mom about what an attractive pair they would make.
His mom would never push the matter. She just wanted Garrett to be happy and could tell there was something not quite right with the dynamic. When he said Rachel wasn’t interested, his mom dropped it.
Then Jazz had decided to try to match him up with Elsa. It hadn’t worked out, but at least he and Elsa had managed to build a strong friendship. She came to him when she needed help, big or small, and he appreciated that probably more than she knew. He was well aware of how much he needed to feel…needed.
Now that he thought about it, Rachel hadn’t actually asked him for help at all. Sure, she took him up on his offer of a place to stay, but she had other options. She could stay at Elsa’s house.
If she did, he knew he’d lie awake wondering if she was okay the whole night. Sharing a roof helped him as much as her. He needed to know she was safe, even if he had no clue how to protect her himself.
He had the books to read—a way to learn more about how he could help her. He needed to get to it. If things did blow up eventually, he wanted be useful.
He cracked the first book open. It landed on an etching of a man holding his hands over his head as a seriously creepy ghost flew at him.
Garrett heard a soft rapping sound. The hair on his arms stood on end. The sound came again—from his bedroom door. His heart was hammering in his chest. It had to be Rachel… Didn’t it?
“Come in,” he said.
She opened the door slowly and stepped inside. Garrett’s pulse jumped for a different reason, scenarios playing through his head about why she might be coming to see him in the middle of the night.
Because we’re both awake, jackass.
“I forgot to bring—”
Her eyes grew wider as she looked at him, her gaze slowly trailing down his chest and over the sheet that covered his hips and legs.
He forced a smile, trying to get her to laugh off some of the tension between them. “Don’t worry. I’m not naked under here.”
She gave a quick laugh—a bit too high to be real. He’d take it.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“I…forgot to bring pajamas. None of my clothes are comfortable for sleeping, and being naked in the dark is not high on my list of things I’d like to do right now.”
Her mouth dropped open for a second, but then she clacked it shut, cheeks glowing scarlet—betraying her thoughts. He was thinking the same thing.
Being naked in the dark with Rachel was about at the top of Garrett’s list of things he’d like to do any time, any day. Increasing the awkwardness between them by le
tting her see just how much that idea appealed to him was close to the bottom.
He tried to look casual as he strategically placed his book over his lap, then nodded toward his closet. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t waste any time, quickly walking to the closet and pulling out a couple of T-shirts. She was tall, but his shirts would still be huge on her.
The thought of his shirt dusting across her long, slender legs, her breasts brushing the fabric…didn’t help his predicament. He shook his head and picked up another book, burying his nose in it as if it held all of his attention.
He couldn’t let himself look up at her. No way could he hide how much he wanted her. He wouldn’t burden her with that knowledge.
Clearing his throat, he said, “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to come get me. Okay?”
“Yeah. Thanks again.”
He didn’t set down the book till after she had gone and shut the door behind her. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the headboard.
This was torture.
If she wanted him, she could have had him at any time in the past couple of years. Garrett made no secret of that. Hell, she could have him right now.
No matter her reasons, she didn’t want him. Not really. He had to keep reminding himself of that. And maybe that emotional pain would help him keep his physical reactions to her under control.
He wouldn’t hold his breath.
Chapter Twelve
There was a ghost right outside the house. A stranger.
If the voice had been one of Michael’s victims, menacing as they were, Rachel would have understood their presence. With that understanding, there would have been some twisted form of comfort. But this ghost was a complete unknown.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the window. The blinds were closed, but even still there were little cracks around the edges that would allow glimpses into the room from outside. Why hadn’t she put in curtains?
Because Garrett loved natural light—and she didn’t want to deny him even a particle of it.
Every room in his house only had blinds to cover the windows. Well, except for her bathroom, which had no windows at all. She considered sleeping in the bathtub, but that wasn’t an option. As much as the windows bothered her, the mirror in that room—even covered—scared her more. The living room had the sliding glass door, so that nixed the couch.
There was always Garrett’s room, with only one clear-glass window that would have a limited view from the backyard. A narrow row of frosted windows lined the wall that faced the front of his house, high up and running parallel to the ceiling. His bed was huge and looked very comfortable—especially with him in it.
Her mind immediately pulled up an image of him walking back to the house after the scorpion incident. That memory was burned into every synapse. His confident stride, the determined set to his features, his strong chest, his muscled legs, a certain other part of his anatomy…
The things she wanted to do to that man.
She knew he was thinking about it too—acting on their mutual attraction. But he was most concerned with protecting her. He wouldn’t even let her get close to a tiny scorpion. It was sweet, but unnecessary.
She went through her list of all the reasons that she shouldn’t be with him in the first place. At the top was how being involved with her would affect his peace of mind.
Learning about her powers—and that ghosts were real—had already impacted him negatively. When she went to borrow a shirt to sleep in, she noticed the blinds in his room were closed. He had always kept them open before. Always. He must be freaking out, trying to protect her yet again by shielding her from how much his new awareness disturbed him.
At least Rachel was used to dealing with this kind of thing. Now that Garrett knew ghosts were real and how prevalent they were, he might never be able to truly relax again.
She didn’t want that for him. For any of her friends. Having Rachel around was a constant reminder of death. It robbed them of even the small comfort of thinking that death held finality.
Jazz wanted to help. So did Elsa. But Rachel wanted to preserve their peace of mind—just like she wanted to preserve Garrett’s. She needed to figure this out on her own, to keep them out of it as much as she could.
The more they tried to help, the more they would internalize that none of them were ever really alone. It didn’t make for a happy life.
She leapt up from the bed and started pacing. The soft fabric of Garrett’s T-shirt brushed against her legs as she walked, distracting her from her anxious thoughts. It carried a hint of his scent. She paused and took a deep breath to saturate her senses with him.
She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, imagining that Garrett was holding her. He’d been doing a lot of that lately. It was taking a toll on both of them.
She was having trouble resisting the pull she felt toward him. The desire to be with him was stronger than ever. The more time they spent together, the worse it became.
But she was weird. He deserved normal. A happy, loving family to join with his, a partner who didn’t get distracted by—
Something tapped on her window. Rachel’s eyes snapped open. She backed toward the bed.
It happened again—a fluttering thump.
She took a deep breath, then slowly approached the window. At least it was shut. She was certain of that. Still, the persistent flutter-thump was making her heart beat in her throat. When she was close enough, she pulled on the cord that raised the pleated blinds.
Outside the window, all she saw was inky darkness. The light cast by the bedside lamp was strong enough that she could see the reflection of the room around her in the glass.
And of the pale, blonde ghost staring back at her—from inside the room.
Rachel’s heart beat even faster. There couldn’t be a ghost in the house. She had cleansed and warded the whole thing.
She took a deep breath and let it out. So did the woman in the window.
Her heart seemed to stop. It wasn’t a ghost at all. It was her own reflection.
Rachel avoided any mirror bigger than a compact. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually seen so much of herself at once. Her eyes were wide and there were dark circles beneath them. Her hair was a tousled mess.
No wonder everyone was worried. Especially with the obvious fear on her face, the lines of stress etched around her eyes. In the dark glass of the window, her reflection was translucent. It was as if she was the ghost, haunting her own life—a living shadow.
Rachel leaned closer to the window just as something huge and bright yellow whacked into the glass. She yelped and jumped back. She was still holding onto the cord for the blinds and it tangled around her arm. As she tried to free herself, her movements caused the blinds to bang against the window with an awful racket. She quickly grabbed at them, pushing them against the glass to stop the noise.
Still holding the blinds, she looked at the windowsill. Two lubber grasshoppers stared back at her. Each was at least three inches long, with bright yellow and orange carapaces. Lubbers were everywhere in Florida, but she’d never noticed them being active at night. One crawled a few inches toward her while she watched.
“Rachel?”
She jumped again, jostling the blinds and getting her wrist tangled in the cord even more. Garrett ran forward before she could extricate herself. He was just wearing pajama bottoms.
She was staring again, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. His chest was covered in fine dark hair that flowed together and cascaded down his stomach, all the way to—
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“It’s okay.” She laughed and shook her head, trying to force the image of Garrett naked out of her mind with limited success. She tried to lighten the mood,
wiggling the cord as he helped free her hand. “I guess I’m a little high-strung too.”
Apparently, he wasn’t in a laughing mood. He didn’t say anything until he had lowered the blinds.
“Was that ghost bothering you again? I thought the poppets were supposed to keep them away.”
“It’s not always ghosts.” She wanted to help him normalize what he’d learned. Maybe he wouldn’t fixate on the idea of ghosts if she gave him another explanation. “There were some grasshoppers flying against the window. They must have been drawn to the light coming out from around the edges of the blinds.”
“Grasshoppers at night?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Again.
“I was already up.”
“You can’t sleep either?”
He shook his head. His gaze kept flicking to her wrists, his eyes getting an angry, haunted look.
She was tired of it. She was tired of people—especially Garrett—asking her if she was okay and looking at her like she might shatter at any moment. He had done enough for her. Maybe she could do something for him.
“Do you need me to tell you about it?” she asked.
“What, the bugs? I was born here too. I know all about the pesky things.”
“About what happened with Michael.”
He looked away and shook his head. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I think I do. I need to tell someone what really happened.”
“I thought you talked it all through with your doctors and the police.”
A lump was forming in her throat. She shook her head.
“Only part of it. What they could believe.”
His mouth opened and shut. His chest stilled as he held his breath, waiting for her. Always waiting. She walked to the bed and sat, then patted the spot next to her.
“Sit with me?”
Garrett hesitated for a moment, but then joined her.
How to begin?
Not with the feeling of dread when she entered Michael’s house—yet another warning sign she had ignored. Not with the chloroform or waking up in darkness chained to a wall.
Whispering Hearts Page 12
