Page 18 of The Alpha’s Midnight Witch

"Old wiring."

"A mirror said my name."

"You were exhausted."

"Pumpkins flew."

She falters. "Wind?"

I stare at her. "Really?"

Gage's voice comes low behind me. "Don't."

Lila goes still. "Excuse me?"

"Don't make her think she imagined it."

The air on the porch changes. Gage hasn't raised his voice. If anything he's quieter, and that's the weird part.

Lila lets go of my arm. "I'm trying to keep her calm."

"She has a right to trust what she saw."

I look between them. My aggravating neighbor of six months and my best friend of three years, squaring off over my sanity like I'm not standing between them.

"Since when," I say, "do either of you have opinions about my mental health?"

Neither answers.

I throw my hands up.

The porch chair scrapes three feet across the boards on its own.

We all freeze.

I lower my hands, slow. The chair stops.

Sid looks at me. I'd swear he looks smug.

"No," I tell him. "Don't."

Gage is staring at me again. Not with fear. With something closer to wonder, and that unsettles me even more.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like I did something impressive."

He steps closer. "You did."

"I moved a chair without touching it. That's not impressive. That's a horror movie."

"You're not hurt."

"That's your whole standard? Not hurt?"

"For today."