Brady took his water but didn’t take his eyes off the TV. His brow was scrunched together. Focused. When he spoke, it was at one of the home buyers on the show.

“You can’t get that house next to the hella busy street, Karen. You have small children.” Brady shook his head. He motioned to the screen. “Get this. The husband immediately points out that their kids are wild and love running around outside and the house is a no for him before he even got out of the car, but his wife just wants a damn craftsman, kids’ safety be damned!”

Sloane busted out laughing.

Brady met her stare. He shrugged. “What? You think you’re the only one who watches shows like this and yells at the dumbasses?” He shook his head. “Sometimes this is better than football.”

“Wow. That’s a bold claim for a southern man.”

“This combines my love of disliking people and making fun of dumbasses.” He gave a mock sigh of pleasure. “Makes the soul happy.”

Sloane laughed again and eased back into the rhythm they’d created over the course of their short engagement. Darkness fell like it was night outside, the rain came, and Brady Knox continued to dislike how little the mother on the show seemed to care for her children.

It was nice.

It was cozy.

It could have lasted much, much longer.

But then thunder exploded so loud and violent that Sloane levitated off the couch in terror. On the way back down, she clawed out for stability in the form of half of Brady’s lap.

He laughed just as the power cut out and the house dropped into absolute darkness.

Sloane didn’t move an inch.

“I hate the dark,” she said, all humor gone.

An uneasy feeling she hadn’t dealt with in a long time crawled into her chest.

Darkness was one of her absolute no-nos. Combine that with a storm, and cozy went to fear and heavy, awful feelings. It didn’t help that she was in her childhood home.

“A little rain and darkness never hurt anyone,” Brady said, lightly laughing.

Sloane knew he didn’t mean any harm in his words, but they stabbed. Suddenly she felt small and defensive.

“No, but if it gets bad enough, it can kill.”

She felt him stiffen through where their thighs were touching. When Brady spoke again, there was no more laughter.

“Well, I can’t do anything about the rain, but I can find us some better lighting than our phones.”

It took some coaxing, but Brady finally managed to convince Sloane to let him walk them to the kitchen to look for a flashlight or candles. They found neither. Brady wanted to go to the garage next, but Sloane shot that down really quick.

She imagined that spider out there. Laughing that the stupid humans couldn’t see in the dark.