And the way it felt like death brushing past me.
I shake my head. But it couldn’t have been real. It couldn’t have.
Could it?
“But ghosts aren’t real. It’s just a story,” I say, unsure if I’m trying to convince Ichabod or myself.
He leans closer, his intensity almost overwhelming. “It’s not impossible, Kat. This is Sleepy Hollow. The veil between legend and reality here is thinner than you think.”
A chill runs through me as he says it, and I set my cup on the coffee table beside him before I spill its contents.
“But…”
“Kat.” He envelopes my hands within his larger ones. “You said it yourself — you heard something, felt something. Even if your mind won’t let you admit it yet. I know you don’t want to believe it, but it’s real. You can’t believe those two deaths in town are unconnected?”
“Well, no, of course not, but that doesn’t mean a ghost is behind it.”
But the conviction in Ichabod’s face is real. He truly believes what he’s saying. I want to argue, to tell him it’s nonsense and that I didn’t see anything, didn’t hear anything.
But that whisper of a something did race past me. I didn’t just trip for no good reason. Did I?
I shake my head again, trying to clear it.
“I don’t know what to think,” I finally concede.
My voice feels small in the quiet of the room. The fire crackles softly, but the warmth isn’t quite easing the cold knot in my stomach anymore.
Ichabod glances at the golden carriage clock on his shelf. “It’s late,” he says gently. “You don’t need to make up your mind now. I know it’s a lot to take in.” He leans forward and brushes a strand of hair from my face. His touch is feather-light and lingers at my temple longer than necessary. “You’re safe now.”
His words settle over me like a blanket. I do feel safe here.
But his words stir something else deep inside of me. I should pull back. I should question more. Question everything. But instead, I breathe him in, that sweet, woody scent. I realise how close we are. His lips are inches from mine, his eyes searching my face like he’s looking for permission.
“Whatever darkness is out there, it can’t get to you. Not while I’m here,” his voice is low, rough.
That undoes me.
He saved me. From what, I’m not so sure yet. But he was there for me. He found me in the dark.
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” I whisper.
“Then I won’t promise to protect you. I’ll just do it.”
My breath catches and I lean forward before I even know I’ve moved. Our lips brush, tentatively at first, but then his hand slides to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair, deepening the kiss. His mouth parts against mine, and I feel the press of his tongue — not demanding, but inviting.
I open to him.
The world slips away. I forget the dark, the fear, I forget the Horseman.
It’s just us.
I sink further into it, but something stirs at the back of my mind. A whisper of hooves.
I break the kiss, gasping softly. My fingers are still in his shirt collar, the fire is dimmer now.
“Ichabod…” I murmur, unsure of what I’m asking.
He rests his forehead against mine for a beat, breathing hard. “You don’t have to believe me yet,” he whispers. “Just don’t turn away from what youfelt.”
