Chapter Six #2
I lay flat on my back on the futon, letting my brain slowly come back online, random thoughts filtering through, one by one. I was cold, the chilly air from the portable air conditioner too much without Lucas's body heat beside me.
It was late. Well past midnight, but too dark to be near dawn. I was sore. Not just between my legs, though I could feel the tenderness there and knew it would be worse once I stood up.
No, I was sore all over. I wasn't in bad shape, but hauling around lumber was a different kind of workout than sitting at my desk and hitting the gym a few times a week.
More importantly, why was I awake? I sat up carefully, mindful of my sore muscles and tender body. Now that I was alone, it felt weird to be sleeping naked.
I was too exposed, though there was no one here to see. Feeling my way in the dark, I found the nightshirt I'd left at the top of my duffel bag and pulled it over my head.
Wood creaked, then a thump. I froze, listening. Was that a shuffle? A foot on the floorboards? Or on the back porch?
My heart thumped faster in my chest, tingles of nerves tightening my stomach.
I was being ridiculous. There was no one here.
I just wasn't used to living by myself, that was all. I sat on the floor, torn between trying to go back to sleep and admitting I was too on edge for slumber.
The house was silent around me, dark and empty. I stood up, deciding to go to the bathroom and drink a glass of water, maybe take a walk through the house to reassure myself that all was well.
I'd only taken three steps across the room when I heard it. Another thump and the creak of wood.
I knew that creak.
It was the exact sound the middle step made on the back porch when someone set their foot on it. My heart pounded harder, stealing my breath. I bit my lip, using the pain to push back fear.
I was overreacting. I had to be.
My trip to the bathroom forgotten, I pulled on a pair of underwear and silently searched the floor for my phone. There was no one out there, but on the off chance there was, I didn't want to be caught without underwear.
The stupid things that shoot through my brain in a crisis.
Except that this was not a crisis.
You're overreacting, I told myself firmly. Go check it out, and you'll see that there's nothing to worry about.
I straightened my spine, raised my chin, and crossed the room to the door, thinking quickly. If—and it was a big if—there was someone out there, was it smarter to hide or turn on the lights?
Turn on the lights, I decided. If I were Lucas, one of my brothers, or the Sinclairs, I might've left the lights off and tried to sneak up on whoever might be out there.
Unlike them, I didn't have a gun and I wasn't trained in self-defense or any of the other sneaky stuff they knew. Also, there was no one out there, so creeping around in the dark was just foolish, right?
With more confidence than I felt, I flicked on the hall light, jumping a little at the bright glare. The hallway was empty, and I was alone.
Of course.
I strode toward the kitchen, rounded the corner, and reached for the light switch.
I screamed. Loudly.
There was someone on the porch. A dark, narrow shadow filled the glass panes of the back door. It was too dark to identify whoever it was. At the sound of my startled scream, the dark figure whirled and disappeared into the night.
My breath strangled in my chest, I flicked on the kitchen light, rushed to the back door, and turned on the porch light.
A sickly yellow glow illuminated the space outside the back door.
There was no one there.
From what I could see of the yard, there was no one back there either.
Peering through the window, I saw no evidence that anything had been disturbed on the porch. My flip-flops sat at the top of the stairs exactly as they'd been when I'd kicked them off. My painter's tarps were still neatly folded to the right of the door.
Dragging air into my tight lungs, I tried to think. Had I really seen someone at the back door? I thought I had. I'd heard noises. But it was dark, a moonless night, and my eyes had been adjusting to the light from the hallway.
Every nerve in my body strung tight with tension, I reached out to touch the knob of the back door. My fingers closed around the cool metal and I turned my hand.
The knob moved a millimeter before stopping. It was locked. I gave it a tug. The door didn't move. In the bright light of the kitchen, I could clearly see the gleam of the deadbolt crossing from the door into the doorframe.
I dropped the doorknob and stepped back to the center of the kitchen, studying the windows.
All closed, all undamaged. Mostly to prove to myself that everything was fine, I made my way down the hallway from the kitchen to the front door, passing the dining room on my right and the living room on my left.
Both were quiet and dark. The front door was locked, just as I'd left it. When I peered through the bay window of the dining room, the front porch, yard, and street were as quiet and dark as everything else.
Just as I had thought, I was overreacting. I made my way back to my temporary bedroom, with a quick stop in the bathroom, and sat on the side of the futon, staring at the dimmed screen of my phone.
When I'd thought there was someone at the back door, it had occurred to me to call Lucas, but I didn't have his number. I could call Aiden.
For that matter, if I was going to be such a scaredy-cat, I could just go home.
This was what happened when you never moved out of your childhood home. I'd traveled all over the world, been a vice president of a major corporation, and I'd never spent the night in a house by myself.
Even when Aiden was traveling, Mrs. Williamson was always home and there was security on the property. I didn't go on vacations often, but when I did, I was with family or friends.
It was only to be expected that I'd feel a little jumpy and off-balance my first night sleeping in the house by myself. The night before didn't count, considering that I'd been insulated by half a bottle of whiskey.
A herd of elephants could've come through and I doubt I would've cracked an eye.
If I was going to do this, live here, renovate this house, and everything else I'd been thinking about, I was going to have to learn to be on my own.
And I would. But for tonight, I was going to compromise. I wasn't calling anyone, and I wasn't running home to Aiden. There'd been no one outside the door and no one trying to break into my house.
Still, I was too nerve-wracked to fall back asleep. But that's what books were for. My tablet was tucked into the side of my duffel bag. I pulled it out, got back in bed, and opened the book I'd been reading.
I was still a little freaked out. Every time the house creaked, I flinched. I'd half convinced myself that I'd imagined the shadowy figure outside my back door.
But what if I hadn't imagined it?
There was nothing I could do about it in the middle of the night. I'd think it over in the morning. And in the meantime, I was going to power through it, Goddammit.
I was an intelligent, capable woman, and I did not need someone else in the house to make me feel safe.
Though maybe it was time to buy better locks. Or have the Sinclairs install some basic security.
Just in case.
At that thought, I relaxed enough to fall into my book, if not to sleep.