“Are we invited?” Selene asks.
“You two never need an invitation,” Dad says.
An hour later, Cori pulls into the driveway and stops in front of the gate. Selene jumps into the driver’s seat after we step out. We pull on the gate, but it’s locked, and there’s no way we can push it open.
We can’t climb it either. It’s about ten feet tall, and there’s barbed wire on the top. I push it again, and it swings open.
“You know that asshole must be watching us, right?” Cori says. “He’s the one opening it. What if he drags us inside and locks us up in his dungeon?”
I’ve thought of that, but right now, I don’t care. After leaving the main house, I found groceries on my doorstep. This is the second Saturday in a row he’s done that. He also sent breakfast, and since I had already eaten, Cori and Selene devoured it.
“I don’t care. He has to learn to stop, and I have pepper spray.”
“Eden, he’s part of a criminal empire. He runs this town. How are you going to get him to stop anything? And he will knock that pepper spray out of your hand before you can pull it out of your purse. Be real,” Cori counters.
“By shoving my size nines up his ass,” I say.
“According to Lexi, he might like that,” Selene yells from the car.
I get to the top of the stairs and pull out the fake black roses I found in the dollar store. I toss them down and stomp them.
“Why are you leaving these cheap, fake roses?” Cori asks.
“Because the real ones he sends are too nice.” I look around and yell, “Do you hear me, weirdo? I’m sick of your shit!”
“I doubt he can hear you,” Selene shouts from the car. “Hurry up before he catches us.”
“And this.” I pull out the empty container that held the breakfast he sent and leave it on his doorstep. Then I lift my middle finger. Just as before, the alarm at the house gets triggered, and we run to the car. We’re barely in when Selene hits the reverse, slams on the gas, and rushes us out of there.
Chapter 18
Rip
It’s like she knows the one thing in life that I can’t stand, and she’s doing her best to drive me crazy with it. I can’t stand mess. I hate having things out of order. I’m not obsessive-compulsive about it, but I prefer things to be neat.
The first time she left flowers on my doorstep was cute. It was funny. This time, she left cheap, black plastic roses. That was bad enough, but she dropped actual garbage on my doorstep.
I wish I could have made the alarm blast louder, but I was satisfied to see them run away. Too bad one of them didn’t fall on their ass this time.
If she wants to play, I can play, but she can’t go against me and win.
I let her have three days. For three days, all I did was deliver the daily flowers. I didn’t send lunches or dinners, but all restaurants in the town know she eats for free. She hardly eats out, though. She brings lunch to work and eats dinner at home most nights.
I want these three days to lull her into a false sense of security. I want her to think that I got the message and have left her alone. Eden Rose is not the best judge of character, so she likely thinks I’ve gone away.
Her street is pitch black, which means she has no business walking home from work at night. It’s about three miles, but I know her mother has picked her up each night this week. None of the houses has its lights on. I wouldn’t expect them to. It’s the middle of the night, and the street is as sleepy as the rest of this town.
I love that about Shadow Cove. I grew up in the city. It was loud and chaotic, just like my house, but this place brings me peace and a sense of tranquility. It doesn’t bring me a sense of belonging, but I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere. I’m not looking to belong. I prefer not to.
Getting to the curve at the end of her street, I slow down. I pass her house and go behind the library. There’s no light, and I know there’s not enough money for the library to have surveillance.
Instead of walking on the sidewalk, I go through the woods and use my phone for light. The stairs to her little apartment creak under my weight. I stop when I finally get to the front door. After a moment, I turn the knob, and it’s locked. I hit the door with my shoulder twice before it opens. I shake my head at the lack of security the sheriff has on the part of the house where his daughter sleeps.
I walk slowly to her bedroom. The door is wide open, but before I get to it, I hear her snoring. I use my light, and she’s under her covers, hugging a pillow. The room is messier than it was the last time I was here, and that makes my skin itch.Why can’t this woman not leave fucking clothes on the floor?I close the door behind me, and when I get back to the living room, I turn on the light.
“Fucking slob,” I mutter under my breath as I take a look at the room. There are no pillows on the couch, where they belong. Instead, they are all on the floor. There’s a laundry basket of clothes. There are a few folded items on the coffee table, but the rest stay in the basket. Her shoes are scattered throughout the living room, and in the corner, there’s a pile of dirty clothes.
The kitchen sink is full of dishes. The only decent thing in the apartment is the vase of roses she has on the table. I clean her kitchen before sorting the mail and folding the laundry. I leave the clean clothes on the coffee table and put the dirty clothes in the now-empty basket.
