Bump in the Night

Layla

“Have you ever lost your mind entirely before, Curtis?”

Curtis, who is currently fighting to get a chainsaw back in working order, looks up at me with a pinched expression. “I don’t believe so, Miss Layla. But you look like you’re fixin’ to lose yours, I reckon.”

Well, he’s not wrong. I run my hand over my face, then through my hair, peering at the old handyman from my perch on the back porch. The overcast day is a welcome relief from the heat, and the choked tree line in the distance looks remarkably innocent compared to last night during the storm.

“You need sleep,” he says in a fatherly tone that forces my gaze back to his face. “You look like you’ve been dragged to hell, and even hell didn’t want ya and sent you packin’.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” I tease, rolling my eyes. “You’re a real southern gentleman, Curtis.”

He waves me off with one of his huge, calloused hands. Curtis is average height and portly, but his strength is truly incredible. H