Page 161 of At First Spark
“I’m not alone,” I say. “Deputies are driving by.”
Nolan doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway.
“I don’t like this.”
“I know.”
“Call if anything feels off.” He says it like he expects something to.
“I will.”
He lingers a second longer, then leaves. The door shuts behind him with a soft click that echoes louder than it should.
And just like that—I’m alone.
It’s not long before I feel the energy change. The air feels cooler. Heavier. The shadows stretch longer along the walls,pulling into corners, collecting in places that feel just a little too dark.
I move through the front hall slowly, checking windows, locking doors, following routine like it’s something I can anchor to.
A floorboard creaks upstairs. I freeze, convincing myself it’s just the house settling.
Probably.
I force myself to move again, heading toward the back hall where the tools are laid out.
Something outside shifts. I go still again and turn toward the side window. The yard beyond is dark now, the last light fading into shadow, the outline of the trees blurring together.
Nothing is there. No reason for the tension tightening in my chest. Still, I step closer. Press my hand lightly against the glass.
The silence stretches. And for a second, it doesn’t feel like waiting for something to happen. It feels like something already has. Like a line has already been crossed.
I straighten slowly, wiping my hands against my jeans, forcing myself to breathe evenly. This is what she wants. Fear. Distraction. Doubt.
She doesn’t get that. Not from me. Not anymore.
I turn off the lights one by one, moving toward the front door, the weight of the house settling behind me with every step.
When I finally step outside, locking the door with a steady hand, the night air hits sharp and clean against my skin. The night feels too still, like something just stepped out of sight.
I scan the edge of the property, and that’s when I see it, a truck parked farther out than it should be. Half shadowed by the trees.
My stomach tightens because I know it’s Nolan’s.
Engine off. No lights. No movement.
I take a step forward.
“Nolan?” I call.
Nothing answers. The wind shifts. Branches scrape. And when I look back, it’s still there.
Still empty. Still—wrong.
I don’t look back again. Instead, I walk toward my car, gravel crunching beneath my boots, the quiet stretching wide around me. But just before I reach it, I stop. Something pulls at me. Not a sound or movement, just instinct.
I turn slowly, looking back at the inn. It stands there in the dark, silent and still, every window reflecting nothing but shadow.
My pulse kicks harder. This is the moment she wants, and I’m done giving her that.
