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“I mean, Memphis saw the neighbors, too. I didn’t make them up.” I point at him, and he nods, shoving a hand in his pocket.
“I mean, yeah, I saw a couple outside today. But…maybe they were the cleaners or something, if the owners really are out of town.”
“Maybe,” I agree. We never actually spoke with them to know the truth. Maybe we’ll never know who they were. Maybe the woman will just disappear, like so many others. “Maybe we should go over there and check it out.” My voice shakes as I make the suggestion—one my entire body is revolting against.
Mara’s grip tightens on my hand. “No. Lena, it’s not safe. We can’t.”
“She’s right,” Memphis says. “No way are we going over there. Whatever’s going on, let the police handle it.”
“No way in hell,” Austin agrees. “We’re locking this place up like Fort Knox, and no one so much as cracks a curtain until morning.”
“Fine,” I say, not sure whether to feel frustrated or relieved.
With that settled and with nothing left to say, we all retreat to our rooms. Mara wraps her arm around my shoulders on the way up the stairs, and we get ready for bed quietly. Neither of us seems to know quite what to say.
When we get into bed, Mara loops her arm through mine, a promise without words to stick together no matter what.
“Thank you for believing me,” I whisper, tears burning the back of my throat.
“Always,” she promises. “I told you we’d get through this weekend together, and I meant it. It’s going to be okay. You’ll see. Tomorrow, once the sun is up, everything will seem a lot less scary.”
I force a smile she can’t see.
In the silence, she stifles a yawn, then adds, “I really wish they had TVs in the bedrooms so we could watchFriendsor something. Chandler always makes me feel better after I’ve watched a scary movie.”
“Could this tripbeany worse?” I ask, trying to make her laugh even when I can’t.
She snuggles up against me. All too soon, I feel her breathing growing slower and then, a soft, breathy snore comes from the back of her throat. I’m glad she can sleep, really I am, but I can’t help feeling bitter about my inability to drift off with such ease.
The room feels smaller tonight. Stuffier.
Soon, the entire right side of my body is coated with sweat from where our bodies are touching. I’ve never liked sleeping so close to anyone. Never liked sharing space like this.
Maybe that’s why my marriage didn’t work.
I swallow, carefully easing my arm out of the tangle of hers and trying not to wake her. I stick one leg out of the covers in an attempt to cool down.
My throat is too dry. I reach down and scratch my leg, scraping sweat from my skin. I roll to my side, then back, shove a hand under my pillow, then pull it back out.
For what must be the next several hours, I toss and turn, trying and failing to find a comfortable position, covering and uncovering to find a temperature that fits.
When I can’t, when nothing seems to be working, I give up. With a huff, I toss the covers off of me and slip out of the bed. If I keep this up, I’m going to wake Mara, and that’s the last thing she needs. She deserves her sleep, even if I can’t get any.
I tiptoe across the room and ease the door open. Staring out into the dark hallway, I instantly regret my decision.What am I thinking?
After everything that happened, the last thing I need right now is to be alone in a dark house. I glance back at the bed, where Mara is sleeping peacefully, and steel myself. I grip the door handle.
I’m going to be fine.
There is no one in this house but us.
I’m safe.
I pull the door closed and step into the hall. The cool air hits me on the staircase, fresh and chilly from the open space downstairs. On the first step, the staircase groans, and I wince, hoping I haven’t woken anyone else up.
I listen carefully, certain I hear Paulette moving around in her bedroom, but I don’t stop to investigate.
Instead, I take the next step, moving down the staircase and to the bottom floor. I’ll just get a glass of ice water and then head back upstairs.
