“Vic—” Jacob glanced at my car, with the spare sticking out of the trunk and the jack right next to it on the ground. “Let me handle it.”
Having to call in the cavalry just to change a tire made me feel like a total loser, and I was about to insist I “help” on principle alone. But then I glanced at the remains of the old building and saw the shifting shadows were not so obscure anymore. They were people. Bloody people, with their faces all twisted up in silent screams.
Jacob might not be able to see ghosts, but he can read me like one of his high-fiber cereal boxes. “I’ll be fine, Vic—I’m a Stiff.” I hesitated, and he shifted into Jacob-mode. Decisive. Strategic. And completely in control. “There’s a diner three blocks north of here. Wait for me in the parking lot, and if it takes more than half an hour, you can officially start to worry.”
I’m not generally a worrier. Sure, there are plenty of things I dread, like walking onto a murder scene and having the room fall silent, or finding zombies in the basement.
But I did worry about Jacob.
Evidently, being with him stirred up all kinds of feelings. Not just lascivious ones, either.
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