He’s already worried.
And yeah, maybe he should be.
This is going to be a hell of a lot harder than I thought.
“Well, I was wondering about mom and her, um … episodes? When she spoke with Gram? I just read things like that are hereditary and was wondering if you knew if Gram was the same way and if you think I could be …”
Different.
A heavy pause stretches between us.
“Aurora.”
My stomach tightens. My father rarely uses my proper name.
“I’m not sure how much I can help you with this. Your mother was very insistent that we never talk about what you call her ‘episodes.’ And I respected that. Always have. But I promised myself after she died that if you ever asked, I’d tell you what little I know. Your mother was everything to me. I loved her so much—quirks and all.”
His voice goes soft, like he’s slipped sideways into a memory. I can almost see her—laughing, alive, still beside him.
That kind of love? Most people never even get close.
“I loved her, too, Dad.” I press the phone to my cheek, breath fogging the screen. “Her episodes or quirks or whatever never bothered me. If anything, they made me feel loved. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay. I don’t want to upset you, it’s just …”
How do I even put tonight into words?
It was nothing.
And yet very much something.
“You saw something, didn’t you, Aurora?”
His voice isn’t concerned.
It’s knowing.
Like he’s been waiting for this.
“I … did.”
Shit.
“I really don’t want to get into the specifics, but I felt something strange when I was out with Eve tonight. Then, when I got home, Louie was acting weird. She wouldn’t eat her food or go outside for her evening run. And when I was on the porch waiting for her, it felt like someone was watching me. I could hear things in the woods—things that didn’t sound like any animal or human.”
Ugh, hearing it out loud makes it worse.
It’s not just in my head anymore. Now it’s real.
I wouldn’t blame my dad if he patted me on the head and told me to check under my bed for monsters.
Honestly? I want him to.
Because if he doesn’t dismiss this, if he doesn’t brush it off …
It means I’m not imagining things.
It means there really is something in the woods or haunting the shitty dive bar.
There’s silence on the other side of the phone, and I realize I’m holding my breath, waiting for his response.
