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“Are you sure Ryder left?” he asks.
I nod. “Positive.”
Julian shrugs. “It could be materials rubbing—”
“Together as the house cools down. Yeah, no. I’m not buying it, Mr. I Don’t Believe In…” I let the statement hang.
“Ghosts?”
I press my index finger against my lips. “Shh! Don’t say the word!”
His eyes roll as the chandelier above our heads flickers.
“Ah!” I shriek and clasp Julian’s hand in a death grip.
He attempts to pry my fingers off, but to no avail. “Can you relax?”
I scowl. “You know what happens when you tell an anxious person to relax?”
“What?”
I squeeze his hand harder. “The complete freaking opposite!”
His heavy sigh comes off as condescending. “The electrical crew was here today working on that same chandelier.”
A sudden cold draft blasts through the air vents, sending the hairs on my arms rising. “Want to explain that?”
“Explain what?”
“Forget it.” My voice drops low enough for only Julian to hear. “I think he’s here.”
“Who is here?”
“G.B.,” I squeak.
“G.B.?” He pauses for a few seconds. “Oh. Gerald Baker?”
“Are you for real right now?” I pinch him between the ribs.
He rubs the sore spot. “Ow. What was that for?”
“Don’t say his name aloud.”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.”
I frown. “I swear, it’s like you have never seen a scary movie before.”
“Why?”
“Because you wouldn’t be saying that if you had.”
“What happens to the person who says that?” he asks with a neutral tone, although his eyes glimmer with hidden amusement.
“They end up like G.B.” I drag my middle finger across my throat and make a slashing noise.
“You’re so—” His voice cuts out, along with the electricity.
“Julian!” I wrap my arms around his waist.
