Free Ghostly (Darkly Devoted Book 1) by Brooke Kennedy Page B

chest. My body broke out in cold chills. Something was in the room with me. My breath took the form of steam, and I slowly began to back out of the kitchen.
    A hard figure slammed into my back, and I screamed. I tried to run, but a hand landed on my shoulder and kept me in place.
    “Briar!” my dad’s voice came from behind me.
    I was thankful it was him, so I whirled around and threw my arms around him. “There is something in this house!”
    He placed his hands on my arms and pushed me forward to look down at me. His shook his head. “Is this really what we’re doing again? You’re going to blame this on a ghost just like you did with the knife?”
    “How can you not believe me? I’ve never lied to you about stuff like this before. What the hell, Dad?” I brushed him off me and stepped back to cross my arms in anger.
    “I know you don’t like this place, and you would rather be out on your own. I appreciate you moving in to help with Dillon, but if it’s too much you can get a job and get your own place.”
    “You mean to tell me you haven’t seen anything strange?”
    He shook his head. “No, and neither has your brother.”
    “You wanna bet?”
    “Briar—”
    “Come on; let’s go see what he has to say about it.” I stomped out of the kitchen as he yelled behind me to come clean up my mess.
    My damned mess indeed. Stupid ghosts.
    He followed behind me until we were back in the dining room, and I walked over to where Dillon sat. His big blue eyes beamed up at me.
    “Hey, Sissy! You eat now?”
    “In a minute, sweetie. Why don’t you tell Daddy about your friends in the house?”
    Dad leaned over beside me and encouraged him to go on.
    “Well,” Dillon started and looked around as if he was looking for someone before looking back at me. “I not supposed to tell you names.”
    “That’s ok. What can you tell us?”
    “They are fun and they live here and they were here first but that’s okay ‘cause some of them are nice and play with me.”
    Dad raised a speculative eyebrow. “Is that right?”
    Dillon nodded.
    Dad looked at me. “Did you put him up to this?”
    I was appalled. “I can’t believe you would think that!”
    “He hasn’t said anything to me about it until you mentioned it.”
    “I’m not making it up! You really haven’t seen anything?”
    “No, Briar, I haven’t. And I would appreciate it if you would stop with the ghost talk. I thought your mother and I had taught you better than that. Ghosts don’t exist.”
    I was fuming. Not only was he practically calling me a liar, he didn’t believe me, and he thought I was making Dillon lie for me!
    I stood up and glared at him. “You’ll see something some day and you will regret this.”
    He said my name as I spun on my heels to go to my room. I didn’t have to deal with his shit; I had enough going on with trying to figure out how to keep us safe from the ghosts.
    I slammed my door behind me and threw myself on the bed. Maybe I was being dramatic, but it felt good. I felt alone and angry, both things I hated to feel. Happiness is what I longed for, and I worried that I would never find it again. My mind floated to the small, steel razorblade that I kept in a jewelry box in my bedside table.
    “No, Briar, pull yourself together,” I chastised and shook my head to clear those thoughts.
    There was so much pain inside me, swirling around like a tornado just ready to throw me to the sky. I felt as if my breath was taken away from me. I curled my legs up to my chest and buried my eyes in the palms of my hands, pressing them until there were spots behind my eyes. It was uncomfortable, but it felt good at the same time.
    That sort of pain hadn’t hit me in several months, and I wasn’t sure how to deal with it. I know what my therapist would want me to do, breathe or listen to music or write in that damned journal, but I didn’t think any of that would help. The only thing that made sense in the moment was a different