The kind of beta who can’t figure out why he never gets the hot chick of his dreams. Men like this guy usually never get married and are very difficult to coach. They insist that women want beta men, but they don’t listen when I tell them that beta shouldn’t mean wimpy. Wimpy attracts wimpy. Not hot chicks. They need to step up and grow a pair or they’ll never attract the woman of their dreams. Too bad they usually don’t listen.
“You are walking past a smooth-flowing stream.”
Wait. How did I get to a stream?
I give up and toss my phone on the nightstand. I consider trying a meditation app by a woman next time as I search for the least lumpy place on the mattress. Without Mom yelling and snoring, the house is so quiet and still. I would say “like a tomb” if I weren’t haunted by the presence of the actual tombs right outside in the Sutton cemetery. I know Mom wants to “visit” her kin, but I hope she forgets about it for a while.
The creaking sound of footsteps draws my attention to the closed door. It can’t be Mom because no alarms have gone off. I wait for Lindsey’s knock, but she’s pacing up and down the hall. The creak of her footsteps is followed by slow squeaks and groans of the old wood floors. I’m wondering if she has restless legs or something when a sudden thump has me out of bed and heading for the door. I am afraid she’s fallen, but the hall is so dark I won’t be able to make out the outline of her body on the floor.
“Lou Ann,” she whispers.
I look toward her bedroom and think I see her head poking out the door, looking back at me. “Yeah,” I whisper back, although I don’t know why we’re whispering.
“Was that you?”
“No. I thought it was you.”
“No.”
The creaky footsteps continue from the bottom of the long, curved staircase now. “Is that Mom?” God, I hope she isn’t up and raring for round two. I’m exhausted and afraid I’ll break my vow of patience. “Did you set her alarm?”
“You were the last one out of her room.”
Crap. Maybe she just wants to spoon. Not ideal, but I’d rather do that than get yelled at again.
There’s a scraping sound like someone is dragging a shovel in the foyer. “That’s not Patricia! Someone’s in the house!”
I might have forgotten to set Mom’s alarm, but I made sure all the doors were locked before I came upstairs. It’s possible someone’s come through a window, but I need to stay calm and not give in to my fear. Scared shitless is not my best look. “Hold on,” I whisper just in case, and run to the mantel to grab at the outline of a candlestick. It’s heavy in my hand and could deliver a lethal blow to the head. Of course, that would mean I’d have to swing at close range in the dark and I’d rather not. I turn around and let out a startled little scream as Lindsey runs into me. I almost fall backward into the fireplace but catch myself in time.
“It’s headed up here again,” she whispers, and I can see the fear in the whites of her eyes. I tiptoe into the hall wi
th Lindsey close behind. She puts her hands on the back of my shoulders as if I’m a human shield.
“Why am I first? You’re taller and stronger.”
“I have a lot more years to live than you.”
A lot? I’m only twelve years older than she is, and it makes more sense for her to be the shield. Over the sound of Lindsey’s breathing and my own heart palpitations, I hear the creak-creak-squeak of footsteps coming up the old steps. “Mom?” There’s no answer and I’m formally scared shitless now. I raise the candlestick over my head.
“Ouch.”
“Sorry,” I whisper as I run my free hand along the wall and flip on the lights. I can’t see anything and call out, “I’ve got a really big gun. I’ll shoot a really big hole in you if you don’t get out of this house.”
We don’t hear anything in response and move closer to the top of the stairs to meet our fate. I peek over the banister, my heart in my throat. There’s nothing there. “Hand me the sawed-off,” I say really loud, just in case. I keep still and listen. Nothing but the sound of Lindsey’s breathing. “I think they’re gone,” I whisper over my shoulder.
“Are you sure?”
Not at all. “Pretty sure. I don’t see anyone.”
Lindsey drops her hands and moves out from behind me to take a look for herself. “I don’t see anyone either, but we both heard it. Right?” I take this as a rhetorical question until she repeats herself like she’s frantic for confirmation. “Right?”
I lower my candlestick. “Right.” I grab her arm as she leans out further. “Be careful. The banister is loose.”
“I don’t think anyone is down there.”
“Right.”
“They must have left.”