Page 49 of Wildwood

“Would you rather she pretend she doesn’t know you?” he counters, eyes challenging.

Reluctantly, I lower my shoulders and force my jaw to relax. He’s right, objectively. Or at the very least, I’m fighting the wrong fight. “Yeah. Yes. Fine. You are right.”

I wait a beat, let Topher pour himself a cup of coffee, and sit down at the table. I sit next to him.

“Topher?”

“What’s up?”

“Something strange happened last night. I think something was in the house.” I sense his jaw muscles tensing. “I heard something, or I must have heard something because I was suddenly fully awake in the middle of the night. And Hugo heard it too. He bolted downstairs, barking like crazy.”

“Was anything there?” Topher’s tone is sharp, and his expression tense.

“The house was empty. We looked in every room.”

“Did you have the alarm system set?”

“I think so.” I search my brain for the night before. I’m certain I remember setting the system on my phone.

Topher exhales, nodding to himself. “Okay. So, it was probably just an old house noise. The beams expanding or something.”

“Yeah, I suppose. There was something else too.”

“Oh?” He looks as though he doesn’t want to ask the question.

“After we went back upstairs, I thought I saw someone outside. I mean, I’m fairly certain I did. By the edge of the property.”

He nods his head. “What did they look like?”

“They were wearing a cloak.” His eyebrows raise, ever so slightly. “I mean something with a hood.”

“What did they do?”

“They just looked at me. And then they were gone.”

“Disappeared?”

I hate how I sound. And I can tell now which direction his reaction is taking.

Topher clears his throat and swallows before speaking. “I know this isn’t the answer you are looking for, but I think that it might be helpful if you found a therapist up here to speak to. I think that maybe you are having a very difficult time dealing with all the transitions, or maybe it’s something else entirely, but whatever it is, it’s manifesting itself in bad dreams and now seeing things.”

I feel a visceral reaction in my gut. “I’m not hallucinating things.”

“I’m not saying you are hallucinating—you probably saw some shadow or animal or something, but because you have worked yourself up, you are turning it into something it isn’t.”

“But why are you so certain it wasn’t anything?” I feel my face getting hot, my body rigid. “People break into houses; just because we live in Vermont doesn’t mean we are immune from crime.” I don’t know why I’m pushing this theory. It’s not what I actually think. But I clearly can’t tell him what I actually think now.

“True, but why would the person be wearing a cloak and why would they just stand at the edge of our property in the middle of the night? I’m sorry, El, but it just doesn’t make sense.” He takes a long sip of coffee, then stares down at his mug, tracing the lip with his forefinger. “Look, if I actually thought a person was trying to harm you, us, of course I’d do something about it. Do you want me to? We can call the police.”

“No. It’s fine.” I look away, feeling stung. I don’t want to call the police. I know there’s nothing of substance to use to investigate. Nor do I think they could help anyway.

“For your own sanity, try and get in the rhythm of checking the locks every night, for the external doors, for the basement. And triple-check the security system before you go to bed. This way, if you hear anything in the middle of the night, you’ll know it can’t be someone breaking in.”

“Okay.”

Topher steps toward me, wraps his arms around my waist.

“You are safe here,” he whispers, bringing his eyes to my level. “Don’t you trust me?”