Page 21 of Never Lie
In any case, I agree—I don’t feel like searching for a linen closet and making up a bed.
“Fine,” I say. “We can sleep in the master bedroom.”
When we get inside the master bedroom, the first thing I do is try to lock the door. After that mysterious light I saw aglow on the second floor, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without the door locked. Unfortunately, it isn’t that simple.
“What are you doing?” Ethan asks from over in the bed. He has stripped off the blue jeans, but he is still wearing the Yankees T-shirt.
“I want to lock the door.”
“I don’t think it locks.”
I whip my head around to glare at him. “What kind of bedroom doesn’t have a lock on the door?”
“I don’t know, Tricia.” There is an exasperated note in his voice. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, and she lives alone. Why would she need a lock on her bedroom door when there’s already a lock on the front door?”
Because there might be somebody in her house and she needed to keep them out while she called for help? Speaking of calling for help, I haven’t seen one landline phone in this whole house. These days most people use cell phones, but given how terrible the reception is out here, it seems reasonable she might have a landline just for safety reasons. But I haven’t seen one.
I back away from the bedroom door, too nervous to take my eyes off it. “How are we going to get out of here tomorrow?”
Ethan adjusts himself in the bed. “I’m hoping after the storm passes our cell phone reception will come back.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“Someone will find us soon.” I wish I had the confidence in his voice. “Judy knows we’re here. She might be trying to contact us right now. And of course, your mother will come looking for us if she doesn’t hear from you in any twenty-four-hour period.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh, come on. You know it is, Tricia.” He pats the empty side of the bed. “Your family loves you. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Thankfully, Ethan has not been jealous of my relationship with my parents and sister. We’re fairly close, and I do talk to my mother practically every day. Ethan’s mother and father both died before we were even dating. It was an accident of some sort, but he doesn’t like to talk about it—he clams up at any mention of it. At our tiny wedding, out of the thirty guests who showed up, only five of them were Ethan’s—all friends, no family. I had to struggle to pare down my guest list, whereas it seemed like he was struggling to come up with five people.
But there’s nothing shameful about wanting only five people at your wedding. Frankly, I would have been happier if my mother didn’t have to invite her bitter cousin Debbie or my father’s perpetually drunk brother-in-law Bob.
I flick off the light switch and plop down on the right side of the bed. It’s the same side I sleep on in our bed at home. It’s weird how we have each picked a side of the bed to sleep on, and neither of us can sleep on the opposite side. We’ve only been together a little longer than a year, but these habits have already become ingrained.
As Ethan wraps his body around mine, his breaths immediately grow deeper. I don’t know how he can seem so relaxed here. Usually, I feel safe and warm wrapped in his arms, but I don’t right now. I don’t feel safe at all.
Chapter 12
It’s three in the morning and I’m wide awake.
At some point, I drifted off. After we went to bed, I was tossing and turning, and Ethan finally went downstairs and got me a glass of water, insisting it would make me feel better. Somehow, it did help, and I drifted off to sleep, but then two hours later I woke up, having to pee.
Ever since I found out I’m pregnant, I’ve been running to the bathroom every hour on the hour. I thought that wasn’t supposed to happen until the end of the pregnancy, but I’m ahead of the curve. Ethan even commented on it a few days ago, but I couldn’t tell him why.
I just relieved my bladder twenty minutes ago, but I still can’t fall back asleep. I roll my head to look over at Ethan, who is snoring softly next to me. He looks like he’s getting an excellent night of sleep in this haunted house. I don’t know what’s wrong with him.
I climb out of bed, the springs on the mattress groaning slightly but not enough to wake my husband. I walk over to the picture window across the room and stare outside. The lawn in front of the house is completely covered in snow—at least two feet of it. All of the trees are caked in white. We’re not going anywhere anytime soon in Ethan’s BMW. Our best chance of leaving is if cell service returns.
I realize sleep is a lost cause so I decide to go downstairs. But it’s too cold to go down there in a bra and panties. I rifle through the pile of clothing I took off yesterday, but I’m reluctant to put on jeans and a blouse at three in the morning.
Then I see the robe hanging from the bathroom door. It surely belonged to Dr. Adrienne Hale. It’s bright red, like the way her hair looked in certain lights. I walk over to feel the material—it’s made of fleece. Sensible and warm, for a house that gets buried in snow every winter.
Before I can second-guess myself, I tug the robe off the hook and shove my arms into the holes. It fits me perfectly—Dr. Hale must have been about the same size as me. It’s just as warm and cozy as it looks, and it’s even better when I wrap the belt around my waist and cinch it closed. There’s no way I’m not wearing this robe now that I put it on.
It’s not like I’m stealing it though. I’m justborrowingit. For like an hour—tops.
I start to leave the bedroom in my bare feet, but then I spot the fuzzy red slippers shoved up against the dresser. Well, if I’m borrowing her robe, I may as well take the matching fuzzy slippers.
