“I’m having bad dreams,” she admits. “Of people watching us. Lurking around every corner and in all the shadows. Visions, I guess you could call them.”
“Nightmares suck,” I say empathetically. “Believe me, I get it.”
“It’s not just nightmares, Amara,” she says. “It’s when I’m awake too.”
“You’re seeing people during the day? Watching you?” I ask, sitting up straighter in my seat.
“Yeah,” she says.
“Have you told the other two?” I ask.
“More than once,” she mutters. “They think I’m just being paranoid. Or that I’m not sleeping enough.”
“Are you?”
“Am I which one? Sleeping enough or paranoid?” she shoots back, and I’m thankful for the snark. It tells me there’s a little of her left in there.
“Sleeping enough,” I say.
“I would be if I wasn’t seeing shadows everywhere. So I guess that answers the second question too, doesn’t it. Are we done yet?” she whines.
“No. Because I don’t like that you’re scared.”
“I didn’t say I was scared. I said people are watching us, Amara. Ever since you left. Look, you can call me crazy too, but I think whatever we were running from before followed us here too. And probably followed you back to New York.”
I let out a sigh, because I feel so helpless from here. Ivan is parked in front of the house now, so I grab my things and hop out, waving to him before he drives off.
“Listen. I know it’s scary. Just be careful, okay? And I’ll figure out how to see you soon.”
“I think we all need to be careful.”
Something about the way she says it gives me a chill up my spine. Like she knows some kind of storm is brewing.
But I’m miles away from the storm door, too.
30
AMARA
I get off the phone with Bella and let out a sigh.
It’s not that I don’t believe her. I’ve seen people in the shadows too. And unfortunately for me, it wasn’t just over exhaustion and paranoia. Which is exactly what has me paranoid right now.
If she had told me a year ago that she was seeing things, I would have chalked it up to hormones. Or the fact that our end of town wasn’t exactly a picket fence neighborhood complete with HOA. But with the reality of what’s going on in our world right now, it’s not hard to believe that her monsters might not be make-believe.
I let it go for now. I really need food. Something that isn’t creamed and poured into a Styrofoam cup and slapped with a ten-dollar price tag.
I could use a bath, too. Prenatal yoga might be gentle—quote unquote—but it’s not exactly easy. Every muscle in my body is throbbing. Not to mention the little man is starting to get heavy.
I go to type in the door code to the estate, but it turns green.
Already open?
Honestly, after the conversation I just had with my sister, I am a little on edge. So I make a point of walking through the foyer very carefully.
But when I come to the opening, I stop, my shoulders relaxing.
“Ransome,” I say before looking at the time. Five o’clock. That’s early for him to be home. Well, this isn’t even home. But if it were, and he lived with me and not…her…it would still be early.
