Something flickers down my spine. A mix of fear and something else I don’t want to name. I do what he says, half expecting to see the man himself casually leaning against the front door of the lighthouse. But of course he’s not there.
 
 “Look up. Above the door.”
 
 My gaze lifts, and I see what he’s talking about. There’s a little black camera with a flashing red light. “Oh,” I murmur.
 
 “You look uncomfortable,” Asher says. “Am I right?” There’s the softest tone to his voice. Like he’s trying to calm a frightened animal.
 
 And I realize that’s exactly what I must look like to him right now.
 
 “Yes,” I say, my stomach tightening.
 
 “Pass the phone to him, please.”
 
 “What? Why?” I ask, because this whole situation has just turned even weirder on me.
 
 “Francie.” He still has that calming-frightened-rabbit tone. “Please just do it.”
 
 I sigh and hold the phone out. “Reed,” I say, “it’s for you.”
 
 He frowns. “Who is it?”
 
 I shrug, because I have no idea how to explain my relationship to Asher. And quite frankly, I just want Reed to leave. He reluctantly takes my phone, lifting it to his ear while flashing me a confused look.
 
 “Ah yeah?” Reed says, looking nonchalant.
 
 There’s a beat of silence, then Reed’s brows furrow until they form one perfectly hairy line. He nods, even though he doesn’t know Asher can see him, then hands me back the phone like it’s about to explode.
 
 “I gotta go,” he mutters, not catching my eye. “I have an early flight. And I can’t miss my sunrise yoga.” He stumbles over his words as he abruptly turns on those terrible shoes. “Peace out.” He practically runs to his car, yanking the door open and flinginghimself inside. I only take a single breath before he starts the engine and reverses like a bat out of hell down the driveway.
 
 “Francie?”
 
 I blink. Asher is still there.
 
 “Are you okay?” he asks again. His voice is still gentle. And I like it. Way too much. More than the angry, accusing Asher that I seem to awaken every time we talk.
 
 “What did you say to him?” I whisper.
 
 “I might have misquoted Liam Neeson’s speech fromTaken,” he admits.
 
 “You told him you have a very particular set of skills?” I don’t know whether to laugh or not.
 
 “Something like that. Now go inside and lock the door behind you.”
 
 I do as he tells me, flicking the lights on, and taking a deep breath as I kick my shoes off, the weariness I felt earlier coming back tenfold.
 
 “Can I check the lighthouse?” he asks me.
 
 “What do you mean? You want me to put you on video?”
 
 There’s a gentle laugh. “No, I’m asking if I can turn on the cameras to check that you’re safe.”
 
 “Wait, cameras? You’ve been watching me?” I ask him, shocked.
 
 “No,” he says quickly. “Not once. They’ve been off since Autumn left.”
 
 I can tell by the tone in his voice that he’s telling the truth. “Okay. Then yes, please turn them on. Just to check. Then off again, right?”
 
 “Right,” he confirms. “I won’t turn them on unless you ask me to.”