Page 43 of Love at First Fright

Yet as his expression contorted, I couldn’t help asking, “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Brad blinked rapidly. His hand trembled against my face. “I…”

His pupils dilated. Then contracted. Then dilated again, like a camera lens struggling to focus.

His whole body went rigid.

Then slack.

He swayed backwards, catching himself with one hand on the sofa arm. He rested his head on his arm.

Then his head snapped back up, those blue eyes locking onto mine again. Yet… different now. Eyebrows etched tightly together. The warmth drained from his expression.

“What the fuck?” Brad scrambled backwards. His knee cracked against the coffee table. He yelped, stumbling, catching himself against an armchair. He stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “What are you doing?”

I blinked. “What?”

He shivered violently, teeth chattering. “Why are you…” He gestured at me on the sofa, his face twisted in confusion and something that looked suspiciously like panic. “Why are you just lying there?”

My heart plummeted. “You told me to.”

“I told you to what?”

“To lie down. Because I hit my head.”

Brad’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.

He looked around the room as if searching for hidden cameras. For some explanation that made sense. His gaze landed back on me, and the confusion deepened.

“When did you hit your head?”

“On the stairs. Just now. You—” My voice caught. “You carried me in here.”

He shook his head. Slow. Deliberate.

“You were stroking my hair and telling me the ghosts wouldn’t hurt me and—”

“What?” His voice came out strangled. He rubbed his arms vigorously, like he was trying to generate warmth. “Charlie, I was in the library. I was checking the readings on the SpecterTrack and you just… you bolted. Ran off screaming like a lunatic.”

“Because something bit me!”

“And then I followed you out into the corridor and you were gone. I’ve been searching the house for the last ten minutes trying to find you. Then I found you in here!”

I stared at him.

He stared back.

Neither of us spoke.

Brad’s hand moved to his temple, massaging it like he had a headache. Then he turned and left the room. Just walked out. His footsteps echoed down the corridor, fading into the depths of the manor.

I lay on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, my pulse hammering in my ears.

What the hell just happened?

Brad had been kind. Gentle. He’d cradled my head and promised to protect me and looked at me like he wanted to care for me rather than torment me.

And now he was acting like none of it had happened.