Page 42 of Still Afraid

Chloe turned the key, and thunder cracked. But the radio blared, snapping Chloe away from freezing again. Thanks, Lord.

Was she doomed to be scared of thunder now too?

Chapter Fifteen

Josh opened the front door of his house, and Poirot darted around him, bolting inside and out of the rain. Chloe had been showing a house, so Josh stopped by her house to get Poirot.

Thankfully, the storm, a quick pop-up, was almost passed them. He’d always loved a good thunderstorm, but the increased risk of tornadoes lately wore on him. Being concerned for someone besides himself changed things. Chloe was struggling, and he hated that for her.

He went to the kitchen, and, after giving Poirot a scoop of food, took out the meat he planned on cooking for supper. As he waited for Chloe to arrive, he went through the motions of getting the meal prepared.

A few minutes later, the front door opened. Poirot barked with a mouthful of food and ran to the entryway. Josh followed.

Chloe, with circles beneath her eyes, knelt, petting Poirot. Despite the exhaustion written all over her face, she shot him a smile that turned his knees to jelly.

“Hey, babe. Did they find a house?”

“I think so. I have to send the offer in before we eat.”

“Dinner isn’t ready yet anyway.”

She stood and crossed to him. He embraced her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

She rested her hand on his chest. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Good. Mostly well-checks today, so easy-peasy.”

“How are you holding up?”

Emotion hitched her breath. She met his gaze. “I thought I was holding it together … until you asked.” Her jaw trembled.

“I’m sorry.” He pulled her against his chest.

Her head dropped to his sternum with a slight thud as a sob shook her body.

“Oh, Chloe.” He let her release her pent-up emotions without trying to solve it with his worthless words.

A few minutes later, the oven beeped, declaring the preheating cycle complete.

Chloe pushed off of him and poked at the wet spots on his button-up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I was doing fine, then the stupid storm scared me half to death. I don’t want to be afraid. It’s a stinkin’ storm. Why can’t I just be a normal person who doesn’t freak out about everything?”

“You lived through a tornado only a few days ago. I think you’re allowed to be afraid.”

“But you aren’t.”

He gently lifted her chin until her gaze met his. “Listen, my fears have never manifested like yours, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have them too. You’ve also experienced situations far more terrifying than I have.”

“Umm, I’d like to refer back to a few months ago when you almost died.”

“I think that was scarier for you than me. If roles had been reversed …” He shuddered at the thought. “I’d be a mess if I almost lost you.”

She reached up and stroked his cheek. “Let’s hope that doesn’t happen. Thanks for letting me cry. I guess I should get that offer in now.”

“I should finish prepping dinner.”

He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she went to the living room couch and set her computer down next to the leather journal she had found. “Hey, has anyone contacted you about that journal yet?”

“Nope. Nothing more than a bunch of likes on the post. People are seeing it, but not the right ones.”