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It swung inward at the same time I was pulling at the handle, and I was greeted with a bewildered-looking Johnny.
“What’s wrong?” he demanded, eyes flashing with concern. “Shannon, what the fuck happened?”
“There’s something in your room!” I screamed, lunging at him. “Oh my god,” I half sobbed, half screamed as I crawled up his huge frame and wrapped my arms and legs around him. “You have to save me!”
“What do you mean there’s something in my room?” Johnny demanded as his arms came around my waist. “Shannon?”
He tried to pry me off him, but I held on tighter, clenching my thighs and arms as tight as I could.
Exhaling heavily, he rubbed my back with one hand and asked in a much softer tone, “What happened?”
“There’s something in your bed.”
Clenching my eyes shut, I clung to his body for all I was worth.
“Under the covers,” I strangled out as a huge shudder rolled through me. “I’m not messing. I saw it move—twice!” I buried my face in his neck and choked out, “I think you have a ghost in your bed!”
“Shannon, I don’t have a ghost in my bed,” Johnny replied, sounding amused now.
“Yes, you do,” I snapped, shuddering again. “I saw it—and don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing at you,” he told me—while he laughed. “Come on, I’ll prove to you there’s no ghost in here.”
He moved to walk into the room and my hands shot out, gripping the doorframe to stop him.
“Take me home,” I begged, wide-eyed and horrified. “Please. Don’t bring me in there. I am terrified, Johnny!”
He brought me back in anyway, marching into the room with me locked around him like a baby monkey.
“Look at your ghost, Shannon,” he said, chuckling when we reached the bed.
“I can’t.” I closed my eyes and shook my head, burying my face back in the crook of his neck. “I don’t want to see.” He smelled so good. Whatever cologne he was wearing was wafting up my nose, so at least I could die smelling something wonderful.
A bark filled my ears then, stalling me midmeltdown.
“Hey, baby,” Johnny cooed. “You scared the shite out of my friend here.”
Baby?
Slowly, I lifted my head and turned to face the bed. A black Labrador poked out from beneath Johnny’s duvet.
A tsunami of relief crashed through me followed swiftly by a generous dollop of reality.
The dog nudged out from under the covers, tail wagging so hard it slapped against the mattress.
“Shannon, this is Sookie,” Johnny said. “Your ghost.”
“Oh.” Unlocking my arms and legs, I slid down his body, every inch of my skin flaming with embarrassment. “Oh, that makes more sense.”
Feeling light-headed, I sank down on the edge of his bed, pressed my hand to my chest, and exhaled a tremulous breath.
“Your dog,” I panted, breathing hard. “Sleeps in your bed.”
It wasn’t a question. I was just trying to piece everything together.
“I said hi and she wagged her tail. I thought she was a—”
“Ghost?” Johnny offered, smirking.
