Page 28 of Hot Ghoul Summer

That part is drowned out by the memory of the sights and smells of Theo Cross’ office, the sound of grim chuckling on the other end of the phone. Memories of Gary’s lies. I know he manipulated me into coming here, and the snowball of shit just keeps rolling down the hill, picking up speed and getting bigger.

Toby sits down next to me on the bed. “No. I can stay as long as you want me to.”

I DRIFT INTO A HAZY slumber, curled to his chest. He smells good, this guy, not like brimstones or sulfur. He smells like rain, Earl Gray tea, and faintly chocolatey as if he’s been munching on cookies. I like it.

I like how his fingers ghost softly through my hair, my hair which normally defies everything short of detangler and an industrial-strength comb. Toby’s fingers glide through, and he hums.

“Why me?” I ask finally.

“Because you’re so good and so giving that bad people take advantage of you. Garmin knew you’d come to help him.”

“They’re going to watch my mom’s house. She’s on a cruise right now. What if they break in? What if they’re waiting for her when she gets back?”

Toby’s laugh is soft and easy, his hand moving tentatively down my neck to my shoulders. I know I should recoil from his touch, but I don’t. He smoothes out my nerves like magic, knots and bundles of tensions dissolving as the heel of his hand sweeps in gentle, steady arcs. “Do you think I’d let them hurt anyone you care about?”

I know he said I remind him of the girl who tried to save him, that Molly chick from the 1600s, but that’s no reason to take such an interest in my life.

“Would you do this for anyone?”

Toby’s hand pauses, then resumes its waltz across my spine. “The first thing I did? Stopping a sleazy old man from giving an innocent woman to a gang of ruthless criminals? Yeah, I think I would have stepped in. Right place, right time. The instant obsession I had with protecting you? That’s not normal.” He sighs. “I know a sign when I see one. I’ve been alone for so long. Even in the little town I’ve lived in for years—I don’t ever spend the entire day there, I rarely talk to anyone but Sera and my dog. I don’t know... I thought maybe you needed someone to protect you as much as I need someone to care about.”

Yesterday, I would have retorted that I’m a badass nurse who never needed help from any man, a woman who would never trust any man after watching my mom and my aunts go through a string of losers (although Gary clearly takes the prize).

Tonight? The world is scary and doesn’t make sense. The fact that some guy who offs people for a living is protecting me is just another nonsensical thing that I’ll deal with once I get to the psych ward.

“Maybe needs is the wrong word. Wants. I want someone to love and look after. Do you... Do you ever think about having someone around who would look after you?”

“You make me sound like a clumsy toddler,” I mumble, but I’m smiling a little.

“Someone who would care about you. Make sure you’re okay.”

I shrug. “I take care of myself.”

Toby scoots up onto one elbow and nods down at me. There’s a little roll of paper in his hand, glowing with hints of golden light. “Martina Bianchi. Father abandoned the family—rarely in contact. Mother goes through a string of boyfriends and keeps promising you that she’ll find a father to make you ‘a family again.’”

I wince. “Mom watched too many Lifetime movies, okay?”

Toby closes his fingers, and the scroll is gone. “You took care of yourself. And then you started taking care of others. Your mom and your aunts seemed to need a lot of guidance, when they should have been guiding you. Then Gary—”

“I hope he rots.”

Toby bites his lip. “Well... Scrolls are changeable, but from what I see—he’s not looking at a rosy future.”

It’s my turn to sit up. “What does mine say? Do I make it? How long do I live?”

“That’s confidential.”

“It’s my scroll! How is it confidential?”

His face hardens. “You don’t want to look at it yet, Moll. It’s not fixed.”

All the warm, sleepy feelings evaporate. “It says I get murdered by Theo Cross, doesn’t it?”

Nothing. Thinned lips. Closed over eyes. “I’m not going to let that happen to you. Why do you think I acted like an utter psycho, forcing you to stay here, ripping you out of that car? Nothing can hurt you here. No one can touch you here.” His fingers clamp down on my shoulder. “No one but me.”

Call it being vulnerable. Call it being stressed or stupid.

Or maybe... Call it a sign. Like Toby does.

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