I turn, following his gaze.
But I don’t see anything.
This whole time I’ve been terrified someone was lurking around, and it’s probably the damn psycho cat.
I look back at him, the tension leaving me. “You’re weird.”
He blinks slowly, like he knows something I don’t.
I shake my head. I’m not spending the night arguing with a cat.
I glance back at Mr. Pickles. He’s still calmly staring out the patio door.
I follow his gaze… and shriek.
There’s a hooded figure looking inside.
I stumble backward into the couch.
When I look again…
No one’s there.
Mr. Pickles looks at me.
“Maybe you’re not scared,” I whisper. “But I am.”
I take off running down the hallway and don’t stop until I’m in bed with the covers pulled over my head.
I lie there, shaking, questioning my own sanity.
Did I really see something?
Or rather, someone?
I yelp, then calm down when I realize Mr. Pickles jumped on my bed.
I stick my head out of the covers. “You saw it, too?”
He slowly turns his head toward the window.
With a shriek, I yank the covers back over my head.
Fuck this.
No more ghosts tonight.
20
DREW
I tossmy laptop onto the coffee table and pinch the bridge of my nose.
I can't concentrate.
I've tried working in my bedroom, the kitchen, even outside. Nothing helps.
My thoughts keep drifting to Violet…
