Page 10 of Chasing the Flame
“Averie… please.”
This time it’s right behind me. I whirl around, slamming the light back on, heart in my throat. I blink, confused by what I see.
The kitchen is...empty.
But something isn’t right. The air feels thinner. Colder. Like something slipped through when I wasn’t looking.
My eyes drift toward the ceiling. Then the far end of the upstairs hallway—the guest room.
It won’t have been locked. He doesn’t have to. Luke knows I won’t go in there, not without permission. Not after last night, and with the memory of what happened when I crossed that boundary.
It’s just a bedroom. Bare. Dusty. Forgettable.
But tonight… it doesn’t feel that way.
A part of me wants to believe I imagined the voice, that it’s the walls, the wind, or the echo of my own unraveling.
But something about it lingers. It wasn’t just a sound. It knew me. And for one terrifying, electric moment, I wonder—
What if I’m not the only thing in this house, he’s keeping quiet?
“Averie.” Luke’s voice cuts through the quiet like a blade.
I flinch and turn, letting my mask slide in place. He stands at the edge of the hall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “Come to bed.”
I nod quickly, ducking my head. “Coming.”
The air still feels wrong, charged, like something unseen is standing just above me, just out of reach, whispering through the floorboards.
But I follow him down the hall toward our bedroom on the main floor. We pass framed pictures and cold walls, the whole house too silent. Too still.
In the bedroom, I change behind a wall of practiced movements. Luke peels off his clothes and slips under the covers with a grunt, reaching for the remote.
I crawl in beside him, careful not to let our skin touch.
The TV murmurs for a while, some forgettable show he uses as background noise, before he clicks it off and rolls onto his side. The room sinks into darkness.
And then—
A faint sound above us. A slow, deliberate step. I stiffen beneath the blankets.
Then another, and a whisper.
“Averie…”
I shut my eyes tight, my heart pounding in time with the ringing in my ears. It wasn’t loud, and it wasn’t angry.
It sounded almost… mournful.
I press my hand flat against the mattress, anchoring myself in the warmth of the sheets. In the silence that follows. In the steady rhythm of Luke’s breath beside me.
I’m imagining it. I have to be. Because if I’m not—
Then something upstairs knows my name.
The following Monday, I return to Carson Plantation. The sky is beautiful, and the waves are calm in the background. It’s a typical late summer day in Michigan, and I’m ready to work.
Luke, theprick, requested that we start with the outdoor renovations before moving inside this fall and winter. Scowling, I grab my bag of tools and wait by my truck for a few minutes while doom-scrolling on my phone.
