Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Edgar breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth, searching for an island of calm in the storm of panic.
Ever since he’d texted Jamie to ask for another date, Edgar had been debating with himself about what would happen if Jamie found out his secret.
They’ll think I’m a freak and in need of psychiatric intervention. And then they won’t want to be with me.
Allie told her ex-boyfriend, and he didn’t try to have her committed, he disagreed with himself. Of course, he hadn’t tried in any other way either, so maybe not the best example.
If they don’t think I’m crazy, then they won’t believe me.
They make haunted houses for a living, he’d argued with himself. They might believe you.
Fine, even if they do believe me, they’ll eventually get tired of the fact that I can’t go anywhere. That I don’t have any friends except my sister because I have this huge secret. That I’m a fucking basket case. And then they won’t want to be with me. So same outcome either way.
“Motel’s good,” Edgar croaked.
Jamie’s eyes were on him instantly.
“What’s wrong? Are you—what’s it called? Storm-phobic?”
Astraphobic, his brain supplied, but he didn’t risk verbalizing it. Edgar managed a nod, and Jamie’s hand landed on his shoulder, a warm comfort.
“Okay, I’ve got you,” Jamie said.
Edgar ached for it to be true.
Though the motel was only seven miles away, it took them nearly half an hour to get there. Mercifully, navigating the road required all of Jamie’s attention, leaving Edgar to white-knuckle it with his eyes squeezed shut so tightly that he gave himself a headache.
By the time Jamie swung the truck into the motel’s parking lot, the rain was coming down so hard the name of it was illegible.
“Wait here, and I’ll be right back,” they said and ducked outside.
It was agony alone. Edgar wanted his eyes closed so he couldn’t see anything in the lightning. The electricity got ghost ions all hopped up or something, he’d concluded over the years, so when lightning struck, ghosts seemed more corporeal, more terrifying. But he wanted his eyes open in case anything appeared close to the car. As a compromise, he kept them squinted, which made his headache even worse.
Jamie was back five minutes later, soaked, brandishing a key on a blue plastic fob like a prize. “Best room in the house,” they announced and pulled the truck around to the back of the motel. “Grab the picnic, would you?”
Edgar did, and by the time he got out of the truck, Jamie had the door to their room open. Edgar was only outside for a few seconds and still got soaked. Jamie ran back outside.
“What are you—” Thunder crashed, and Edgar winced. He pressed his back to the wall, every muscle tense, and scanned the unfamiliar room. Lots of brown, but no ghosts. A flash of lightning made him wince.
The door slammed open, and Jamie returned a minute later carrying the sodden bundle of the chandelier.
“If I don’t have this come Monday morning, Marty will fire me. I’m not taking any chances,” they explained, locking the door behind them.
The struggle to keep breathing at a nonhyperventilatory pace required all of Edgar’s energy.
Jamie frowned and placed the chandelier on the floor, then crossed to Edgar.
“Hey,” they said gently, so gently. “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
The deepest, most hidden part of Edgar thrilled at this promise. Even though it was made in ignorance, it was what he wanted. To be taken care of. Protected. In all his debate with himself over the past week, that was the card he never played because it was too much to wish for. Too scary to hope for. And far too much to ever ask. What would it feel like if he told Jamie the truth and they could actually help him?
Edgar didn’t have any idea what that might look like, but he thought it might start off feeling very much like Jamie’s warm hand on his arm, Jamie’s calm voice in his ear.
“I can see you’re really scared,” Jamie continued, and Edgar realized he’d closed his eyes against another flash of lightning. “Maybe panic-attack scared? Just concentrate on breathing, okay? I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Do you want to sit down? Want a shower? Want me to distract you? Or maybe just shut up?”
It was this last that made Edgar open his eyes. He didn’t want Jamie to ever shut up. He wanted Jamie to keep talking to him all night long.
Lightning flashed outside, and Edgar caught a glimpse of something in the storm that shouldn’t’ve been there.
Edgar flinched away from the window and crouched on the floor. Jamie looked scared.
Fuck, no, please not now!
This date was Jamie giving him a second chance. If he fucked this up, he knew Jamie wouldn’t give him a third. Jamie, who cared about the truth and being themself and wanted him to do the same.