“Sure,” Jericho said, his smile a little hesitant, but still sexy. “By the way, you look nice today.”
Boy, she’d really messed this one up, hadn’t she? “Thank you. Right over here.” She showed him the bathroom and then hurried to the kitchen.
Time to make some cookies.
Emily rolled over and squinted at her alarm clock. 2:47 AM. She blinked at the red numerals, not quite sure what had woken her up.
Something heavy shuffled upstairs.
Instantly, every nerve in Emily’s body fired awake. She stared up at the ceiling with a mixture of dread and terror. Maybe she’d imagined that noise. Maybe it was just a bad dream carrying over to wakefulness.
A thump, then a low dragging noise echoed across the ceiling.
Her body broke out in goose bumps. Not again.
Emily reached over the side of the bed and gripped her cross. Another heavy foot slid across the floor upstairs in the attic. She wanted to cry. She’d had such a good day earlier. She and Jericho had chatted for hours, the awkwardness left over from the movie date gone. She’d asked him to stay for dinner but he’d declined, since he had another client to run out to. He’d taken a plate of cookies with him and told her to call him for any other repairs.
It hadn’t quite been romantic, but it hadn’t been uncomfortable, either. And it had made her happy.
But now, staring up at the ceiling, all she felt was dread and sheer loneliness. Here she was again, at three in the morning, terrified out of her mind and no one to call on. She could call Luanne, but her sister only laughed at Emily’s fears. She was a bit of a daredevil and didn’t understand Emily’s distress over the thought of having a ghost in the attic and having to deal with it by herself. The police department hadn’t exactly been super receptive the last time they’d come out, so she’d baked double batches of their favorite treats and promised not to call again for a few weeks.
She had no one she could turn to, and right now, she felt terribly, horribly lonely.
Maybe Braden would be available if she called. Maybe he wouldn’t be a total dick about it.
She doubted that, but when she heard another noise upstairs, she reached for her phone. Right now she just wanted to hear a human voice, someone to tell her it was okay, and to not be afraid of ghosts despite living by herself in a big, creepy old house.
Emily flipped to the ‘recent calls’ screen on her phone to pull up Braden’s number…and saw Jericho’s name staring back at her.
Would he answer if she called? She supposed she could always fake a plumbing emergency. But…that felt wrong. She just wanted a friend right now.
On impulse, she hit ‘call back’.
Jericho’s phone rang four times, and just when she was about to hang up and declare herself stupid for even trying, someone on the other line picked up. “Mmm, hello?”
It was obvious he’d been asleep. “Hello? Jericho?” Emily hated the way her voice trembled. “It’s Emily.”
“Em? You okay? What time is it?”
“It’s late,” she said tearfully. “Or early. I guess. I just…needed to talk to someone. I keep hearing things in my attic.”
“You want me to come over?” He sounded a little more awake.
She caught the sob in her throat. God, she was being such a baby. But she felt like a big ball of emotional distress. She wanted help, and she didn’t have anyone to turn to that might possibly understand how she was feeling… except him. “That would be great. You don’t mind?”
“Not at all. I’ll be there in about twenty.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ll make you cookies.”
“You don’t have to bake me anything to get me to come over, Em.” She heard the rustle of clothing as he moved around on the other end of the line. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Okay,” she whispered and hung up.
Jericho showed up in a roar of mufflers at precisely 3:15 in the morning. Normally she’d have been one of the people in town pissy at the noise in the middle of the night, but today? She didn’t care.
It just meant that she had a friend.
He strode to the door, a worried look on his face. His hair was a rumpled mess, the floppy black locks going in every which direction. He wore Scooby Doo sleep pants and a plain gray t-shirt under his jacket, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he headed to her front door. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay,” she said, hugging her bathrobe closed. But she felt like a fraud saying it. “Actually,” she added, voice trembling. “I’m really not. I’m scared and no one believes me and I don’t have anyone to depend on and—“
“Hey,” he said softly, moving forward. “Shh. Shh. It’s okay. We’ll take a look at things, all right?” Jericho pulled Emily against him in a warm, comforting hug.
“Everyone thinks I’m crazy,” she sobbed. “And no one will help me. Even Braden. And I’m…scared of my own stupid house. I can’t even sleep in my own stupid bed.” She buried her face against his shirt. God, he smelled good. She was wimping out on him, but she didn’t care.
For once, she just wanted someone to lean on. She normally took the mothering role, but this time, heck, it was so nice to have someone else hold her and tell her that it would be all right.
Jericho’s hands rubbed up and down the arms of her bathrobe. “You need to sit down and have a good cry?”
“I need someone else to hear these ghosts so I know I’m not crazy,” she said, sniffing against his shirt. Her fingers curled into the soft fabric. “You smell good.”
He chuckled. “Thanks?”
“A-are these pajamas?” She sniffed again. “Did you come over in your pajamas?”
“You seemed like you wanted someone over ASAP. So here I am.” He rubbed her back. “Shall we go inside?”
She nodded and surreptitiously wiped her nose.
Jericho took her hand and led her back into her own house. “Lead me to it.”
“The attic,” she said, pointing upstairs. “The noises always come from the attic.”
“Of course they do,” he said with a chuckle. “Typical horror movie shit. The bad stuff is always in the attic.”
“I’ve had it checked before and no one can find anything,” she whispered. And even though she wanted to kick herself for it, she clung to his arm. “I’m sorry I’m being such a baby.”