Page 32 of Love at First Fright

This man. This gorgeous, kind, talented man who fed stray cats and played my old guitar so beautifully and smiled like sunshine breaking through clouds. Exactly the sort of person I’d have wanted to fall for when I was alive. Hell, I was probably already halfway there, despite us not exchanging a single word.

And that was the problem.

I needed to scare Charlie away. For his own good. Before whatever lurked below decided it was hungry for something human and alive and warm and lovely.

Even if it meant never seeing him smile again.

Even if it meant crushing whatever was blooming in my dead, useless heart.

Because if I knew anything, it was this: love at first fright never ended well.

six

Charlie

Ileft the kitchen.

The cat followed, silent padding footsteps behind me as I moved down the corridor. The banging continued—irregular thuds that seemed to come from deep below. Each one made the floorboards vibrate slightly under my feet.

The basement door loomed at the end of the hall. Plain wood, paint peeling, brass handle tarnished with age. Nothing special about it. Nothing to explain the cold dread pooling in my stomach.

Another bang. Louder this time. Closer.

My hand hovered over the handle.

A scraping sound joined the thuds. Metal dragging across stone, slow and deliberate. Sound that bypassed logic and went straight to the primitive part of my brain that still remembered predators in the dark.

Behind me, the cat erupted.

Yowling. Hissing. A sound that scraped at my nerves and set my teeth on edge. The tiny creature threw itself at my legs, clawing at my jeans, desperate and frantic.

“Bloody hell—”

I scooped him up. He writhed in my arms, a ball of black fur and panic, trying to twist away from the door. His eyes were wild. Terrified.

The banging intensified. Three rapid thuds, one after another. The lights flickered.

“Hey. Hey, it’s alright.” I held him close, one hand stroking his head, his little heartbeat rapid against my chest. “It’s just a basement. Nothing down there but junk and maybe some mice.”

The cat stilled slightly, but his body remained tense. Coiled.

“Look, mate.” I kept my voice low, soothing. Trying to convince myself as much as the cat. “There’s no such thing as ghosts. Whatever made that noise? Probably just pipes.”

Meow!

He did not agree with me.

Another bang.

“The best way to conquer fear is to face things head-on, yeah? That’s what my dad used to say.” I scratched under the cat’s chin. “Walk towards the thing that scares you. Prove to yourself it’s not as bad as your brain makes it out to be.”

The cat cocked his head. Stared at me with unnerving amber eyes.

Like he knew I was talking complete bollocks.

Because I was. When I saw spiders, I didn’t walk towards them. I ran. Fast. In the opposite direction. Usually I left the room entirely and didn’t come back until someone else dealt with it.

Face your fears. Right.