Without a word, I held out my hand. After only the briefest hesitation, he rose and came to me. I pulled him with me out of Henry’s room, shutting the doorbehind us before leading him to our bedroom. There, I placed his hand on my back and stepped closer as his arm tightened around me.
I wrapped my arms round his neck and held onto him as if holding the world together in that one embrace. His breath brushed against my neck when he sighed, his relief palpable. I shuddered at the warmth, suddenly needing him urgently, desperately. He must’ve felt it too. He pulled back just enough to capture my mouth in a savage kiss, fingers from one hand tangling in my hair, the other hand clutching the material of my nightshirt in his fist.
I gasped when he broke away and peered down at me, his eyes questioning. In answer, I slid my hand down between us and caressed him. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. Then his mouth was ravaging mine again as he walked me backward to our bed, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside, taking my breast into his mouth, his tongue teasing, relentless, until desire swamped all rational thought.
He yanked the comforter out of the way, and when I fell back onto the bed, he dragged my hips to the edge, plunging deep, each thrust hard, powerful, rocking me, claiming me. I dug my nails into his arms, biting back the release building inside me, until I couldn’t any longer and cried out, arching off the bed. When I collapsed back onto the mattress, his pace quickened until his muscles tightened, the veins in his neck visible with the strength of his release.
We lay together afterward, still joined, panting until our breaths slowed. And then he lifted his head and looked down at me, his love so clear, so fierce, tears stung my eyes. But he gently kissed them away, kissed my lips, the salt from my own tears still on his. And then his mouth and fingertips skimmed my skin, exploring, caressing with the same care and tenderness he had shown our first night together. And this time when he made love to me, it was so gentle I almost missed the roughness of before. Because unlike the first time we were together, that beautiful, perfect night at his beach house, this felt like an end instead of a beginning.
Chapter twenty-four
Whit was still face down on our bed, sleeping soundly, when I got Henry up early, hoping to avoid running into anyone else at Dawes House as we left that morning. Henry seemed blissfully unaware of anything that had happened the night before and was humming happily as he ate pancakes at the little diner where I took him for breakfast.
My cell phone rang while we were eating, the vibration traveling through the table and into my hand, drawing my attention. My eyes lingered for a few seconds on my wedding band, before checking my phone’s screen. I sent the call to voicemail when I saw it was Whit—no doubt wondering where we were. He texted a moment later, confirming my suspicions.
Where are you? Please call me. I just need to know you and Henry are okay.
I almost called him then, regretting the panic he must’ve felt waking up to find us gone. But I knew the minute I heard his voice, my resolve would crumble, so I settled for texting him instead.
Needed time to think. Having breakfast. Taking Henry to the park then to see Dottie.
Dots appeared on the screen, telling me he was working on a response. But then they disappeared. Started again. Disappeared. Finally, a message came through.
Love you. I’ll be here when you get back.
I stared at the message, torn. I wanted to tell him I loved him, too. That my heart ached so badly, I could hardly breathe. I wanted to see him, feel his armsaround me. I wanted to tell him that we could handle whatever it was he wanted to tell me, that we’d be okay. I wanted to tell him I forgave him.
But I didn’t say any of it. I couldn’t. Not yet. I turned my phone face down on the table, ignoring it when it rang again.
That afternoon, I brought Henry to the bookstore, forcing a smile when Dottie greeted us enthusiastically. She must’ve immediately seen that something was off because she quickly wrapped up with the customer she’d been helping and told her other employee to take the rest of the day off.
“Oh, honey,” Dottie said, taking both my hands as soon as the shop was empty. “You look as sad as a cucumber. What’s wrong?”
Henry tugged the hem of my shirt. “Excuse me, Mama, could I please play with the toys?”
“Yes, baby,” I said, smoothing his curls. “Go ahead. Ms. Dottie and I are going to chat for a while.” I turned back to Dottie, hesitating as I tried to decide how much to tell her. “Mind if we have some tea while we talk? I think this might take a while.”
After Dottie and I were tucked in with sweet tea and snacks she’d prepared, I told her about the most recent encounters with the screaming woman—with Alice—Henry’s drawing, and how Whit hadn’t shared that others had experienced encounters at Dawes House before me.
“Zellie, honey,” Dottie said on a sigh, reaching across the bistro table to take my hand, “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me—but, more importantly, with yourself.”
She gave me a pointed look as if to make sure I understood the gravity of what she was about to say.
When I nodded, she took a deep breath and heaved another, dramatic sigh. “Do you really want to know thewhole truth?”
“Of course. I love Whit, Dottie. I really do.” I paused, taking a few seconds to swallow the tears constricting my throat. “I don’t want there to be any secrets between us. I need him to be honest with me.”
She peered over her glasses. “Let me remind you that you weren’t completely honest with him about all you’d been seeing until recently. Why did you not tell him everything?”
“Well,” I said, drawing my hand back, “I didn’t want him to think I was losing it.”
She leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands. “Do you think perhaps he was worried about the same thing?”
“Why would he be worried about that?” I asked. “Clearly, I already believed in the intruders, in ghosts.”
She pursed her lips, then gave a curt nod. “Very well, then. I’m going to show you something. And I want you to remember this bit of conversation, all right?”
Dottie returned with an enormous, leather-bound tome. She set it on the table in front of me. “This is a Proffitt family heirloom. I was able to acquire it some years ago. Go on, now. Take a look.”
