Page 74 of Kings Fear No One
“Sure did. We’d only been there a minute when the flame in our lantern suddenly blew out. There was this chill that blew over us. Mace squeaked like a fucking mouse. Pretty sure he covered his eyes and damn near pissed himself. But I kept my eyes open… then I saw her.”
“A ghost?!”
“This woman in a ratty old dress—completely see-through—came out of the darkness. She flew straight at us like she was about to hit us over the head for disturbing her.”
Teysha’s hands come up to her mouth. “What did you do?”
“Got the fuck outta there,” I reply with a gruff laugh at the memory. “Lit a fire right under our little asses. We never ran so fast. We were beside ourselves by the time we made it up the house. Never went back to the barn again.”
“And Mace thinks it was a ghost too?”
“He claims he didn’t see anything. I always remind him it’s ‘cuz he covered his eyes like a pussy.”
She draws her knees to her chest. “I’ve never seen one. But I think they could exist. Are you afraid of them?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s alright to be afraid sometimes, you know that, right?”
“Alright, I wouldn’t want to run into one in the middle of the night. But if I did, I’d do what I had to do.”
“Logan Cutler, you’re afraid of ghosts!” she accuses with a fresh giggle.
“I told you, Steel Kings aren’t?—”
“I have a phobia of blood. And needles. And the dark and quiet.”
Setting down my empty glass, I reach for the bottle of White Oak in the middle of the coffee table. “Is that why you want to sleep in my bed every night?”
“I like being near you,” she answers. “It makes me feel better.”
…that’s ’cuz you’ve gotten attached when you shouldn’t have…
I cut off that negative thought, fighting against its sabotage. I’ve let thoughts like this rule me, pushing Teysha away, deciding it was best if we separate.
I’m not sure what I think anymore, but I’m trying to be in the moment. Enjoy our time together for what it is.
Teysha’s attachment to me will have to be addressed another time.
I point at her half empty glass as I pour thirds for myself. “I’m impressed you’ve been handling that so well. You’ll build up a tolerance in no time.”
“Since I drank whiskey, you should read the Bible.”
“I don’t remember striking that deal.”
“You might enjoy it. It might remind you of your mother.”
“I’ll pass.”
“If you ever want to, you can read mine. If you ever need it.”
“I won’t. Now how about you turn that Spotify playlist to something good?”
“Only if you dance with me.” She grabs at my hand to pull me up off the couch.
I oblige. Briefly.
I don’t really dance. It’s more like she dances around me, grabbing at my hands to pull me into the moment and entice me. My arm hooks around her hips to hold her close, enjoying the way her body sways against mine.
