“I really don’t know, Zellie,” he snapped, then immediately held up his hands. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to help you on this one.” He sighed. “Could we talk more tomorrow? I’m tired and sore—”
“Sore?” I interrupted. “What happened?”
He stiffened, his defenses going up. “From all the traveling. I’ll be fine.”
“When are you going to stop doing that?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Doing what?”
“Withdrawing, closing yourself off when I hit too close to home?” My tone was harsh, betraying my frustration. “Closing yourself to what, I have no idea! But if you want to marry me, Whit, you have to let me in.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, but said nothing, his jaw clenching as if he was silently working through frustrations of his own.
I sighed and shook my head, not knowing what else to say. “I’m going to bed. You’re welcome to stay. If you leave, please lock the door behind you.”
I was just slipping into bed when Whit appeared in my bedroom doorway. “Was that our first fight?”
I pursed my lips. “Not if you count the first couple of times I talked to you on the phone.”
He chuckled and came in, stripping out of his clothes until he was down to his undershirt and boxers, then crawled under the sheets and stretched out on the bed, pulling me into his arms.
“You had every right to be angry with me then,” he said, his voice soft. “I never should’ve allowed Briggs to talk to you without already having a solution in mind. It wasn’t fair. I’m so sorry that’s the first thing you remember about me.”
I curled into him and hugged him tightly but immediately pulled back when he winced. “Whit, that’s more than just being sore from traveling!”
“Zellie, it’s fine,” he sighed, the exhaustion in his tone belying his words.
Unconvinced, I sat up and lifted his shirt, gasping at the extensive bruising to his ribs. “Oh, my God! What the hell?”
He gently caught my hand and pulled his shirt back down. “Disagreement with a tenant. That’s all.”
“That’sall?” I cried. “Whit! Your ribs could be broken! Who did this to you?”
“It’s handled. And please don’t worry. I’ll be okay in the morning. Really.” He gave me a tired smile and caressed the curve of my jaw with his fingertips. “I just want to hold you while I get some rest. That’s all I need.”
I pressed my lips together, my heart aching at the sight of him in pain. But I nodded and then laid back down, letting him draw me into the curve of his body. Seconds later, his breathing became deep and steady, his exhaustion too heavy to fight any longer.
I woke to a small hand gripping my calf, urgently shaking my leg. My eyes snapped open, startled by the sudden interruption to what had been a blissfully peaceful sleep. I expected to see Henry standing there and felt a momentary flare of panic at the thought of him seeing Whit in my bed, but the panic was instantly supplanted by something far worse.
It wasn’t Henry.
A little boy stood beside the bed, his skin pale, translucent, his eyes wide with fear.
David.
He shook my leg again and glanced toward the bedroom door as if expecting someone—or something—to burst through it.
David darted toward the door, pausing to look over his shoulder at me and motion urgently for me to follow. My maternal instincts roared to life. I threw off my covers and hurried after him.
“David!” I called, catching a glimpse of him passing straight through the apartment door. “Wait!”
I yanked open the door and chased after him, not bothering to close the door behind me. He disappeared down the stairwell, glancing back once to make sure I was still following. I hurried after him, only vaguely noting each floor we passed until the stairs ended abruptly, and I realized I was in the basement.
Panting, I stood at the base of the stairs, glancing around frantically for the little boy. The lights came on in succession down the hallway, something tripping the motion sensors as it passed.
A ripple of icy fear rushed through me. I swallowed hard, hesitating.
What if the little boy wasn’t really David? Or what if David wasn’t actually a little boy at all? What if Vivian had been right and the intruders who sought me outwereactually demons or malevolent spirits, this one taking the shape of a small child to play upon my maternal instincts and lure me here?
