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My phone first. Call Ace. Get it together.
Lightning hits, and my eyes are trained on my open bedroom door. The room lights up, and in the doorframe I see a dark, hooded figure. I scream, I scream so loud my voice cuts off midway through and nothing further comes out. My knees give way and I drop to the ground, jerking my head back up when another bolt of lightning hits.
This time there is no one in the doorway.
"Ace!" I screech as loudly as I can. I don't know if he can hear me. I don't know anything, but I just keep screaming his name over and over until my voice cracks and I back myself up so I'm pressed against my bedframe. I stay curled there, eyes on the door, terrified.
Someone is in my house.
I saw him with my own eyes.
I can't move. I need to find my phone, I know that, but the fear is holding me hostage. I can't move.
"Help," I sob, bringing my knees up to my chest. "Please."
There is a crashing sound, then a pounding at my front door. "Hartley?"
Ace.
He heard me.
"Hartley?"
He's yelling, and I can hear his voice as clear as day.
"Door is locked. Hartley."
The door is locked? But … but someone was in my house. I saw him. I … I did. I saw him. Am I going crazy? Am I losing my mind? What the hell is happening? I fall forward so I'm on my hands and knees and I crawl towards the bedroom door, croaking out, "Ace?"
"Open the door for me," he yells.
He's right there. No one will hurt me if he's right there.
Taking a deep, staggering breath, I push to my feet and I run, I run towards the front door with all my might. With shaky fingers, I fumble around with the locks in the dark until they spring open. Then I step back, sinking to my knees, my body too full of fear to function. I know there are tears streaming down my face, even though I can't really feel them.
A flashlight swings around the room, before settling on me.
"Shit."
The muttered curse is followed by two big arms circling me, and lifting me into the air as if I weigh nothing. I curl my fingers into Ace's shirt and I latch on. I don't care that he's basically a perfect stranger, and one who doesn't like me most of the time, all I care about is that the comfort he brings me in that moment is overwhelming.
Ace moves to the sofa, lowering himself until he's sitting. There is no way I'm letting him go anytime soon-he can hate it as much as he likes. I'm so damned afraid, I need something to cling on to and he's going to be that person, whether he likes it or not. He is seemingly okay with my grabbing him like I need him to breathe, though I can feel the tightness of his muscles where they press against my body.
He doesn't do this often, that much is obvious, but he's doing it for me and I'm grateful.
"Calm down," he says, his voice tight, like he really has no idea what he's supposed to be doing. He stares into my eyes, and he holds them, bringing a calm over me that I honestly wouldn't think possible right now. "You're barely breathing, Hartley. Practice what I showed you-into your lungs, hold it, let it out."
I do as he asks, sucking air into my sore lungs, and holding it for a few seconds before I let it back out again. I do this for a solid ten minutes before my body finally starts feeling like my own again. My legs stop being numb, my hands stop trembling, and I manage to pry myself from Ace with a flush on my cheeks. I slide off his lap and into the spot directly beside him.
The power flicks back on, and I shield my eyes as the light feels that much brighter now that it's been out for a while. I rub my eyes a few times, and then blink rapidly when I uncover them to get them adjusted. When I glance over at Ace, he's staring at me, and his eyes search over me, starting on my face and traveling over my body. Is he looking to see if I'm injured? Did he think I was hurt?
"What happened?" he asks.
I swallow and rub my upper arms. I'm cold even though it really isn't cool in here at all.
"I heard some noises," I say softly. "And my phone rang. My husband's phone was calling. Then, I swear Ace, I saw someone in my doorway. A man, I think, wearing a black hoodie. I could be wrong, because when the lightning lit up the room again, there was nobody there. And then when you came over, the door was locked … "
Ace stands. "Where's your phone?"
"I threw it in the bedroom."
"Wait here."
He disappears down the hall in a few long strides. He's gone for a few minutes before reappearing again with my phone in his hand. He's staring down at the screen. "There are some missed calls from your husband's number. I don't think you were imagining it."