It made her want to run. Hide. Maybe even disappear. Because that was her default when things got hard.
But she couldn’t do that. This was her home. This was where her family lived. And she wasn’t willing to lose it all a second time.
Dropping her hand, she stepped back and turned, heading into the kitchen where she grabbed a saucepan from the cupboard.
The only good part of today was that she’d gotten to see Indie again. They hadn’t spoken about anything serious, like her leaving or their parents’ passing. In fact, Indie and Noah had been really good at keeping all conversation light and fluffy, which had made everything a bit easier.
Zane hadn’t stayed long after Jesse and his deputy had left, but he’d messaged throughout the day, checking in. And there’d been this feeling inside her, like maybe he left because he couldn’t hold the rage inside him.
But that was silly. They hadn’t even known each other for that long.
She was pouring milk into the saucepan when a scratching noise sounded from the living room balcony door.
She spun, the milk carton hitting the edge of the counter and falling from her fingers, spilling all over the floor. She didn’t so much as look at it. Her gaze was on her closed blinds.
She was on the fourth floor. No one would be able to get up to her balcony…right?
Right.
She turned to grab a cloth for the spilled milk when she heard scraping noises, this time louder.
She spun again, slipping on the spilled milk before hitting the floor,hard.
Bonnie barely stayed there for a second before she was on her feet and racing to the door.
Not caring that she was covered in milk or that it was ridiculously late, she ran straight down the hall to apartment forty-three and banged on Zane’s door.
Loud thuds hadZane shifting from fast asleep to wide awake in under a second. He shot up, immediately opening the second drawer in his bedside table and lifting the false bottom.
When he held the Glock in his grasp, he climbed out of bed, not caring that he only wore briefs. He didn’t even stop to flick on a light. It was after one in the fucking morning. He shouldn’t have any visitors.
His steps were fast but silent as he moved down the hall to the door. Keeping his body positioned against the wall, he leaned over and looked through the peephole.
The fuck?
He tugged the door open. “Bonnie, what’s wrong?”
Just like this morning, she only wore an oversized T-shirt, but now it was wet. And did she smell like milk?
She wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m sorry! I know it’s late. But I couldn’t sleep and then I heard scratching against my balcony door and I spilled milk and slipped in it and—”
“You heard scratching against your balcony door?”
“Twice. And it might be nothing—it’s probably nothing—but after last night it just…” She scrubbed her face. “It freaked me out.”
“Come in.”
When she looked up, there was a hint of tears in her eyes. “Really?”
He reached out and set a hand on the small of her back before leading her inside and locking the door after him. Then he led her straight down the hall to the bathroom off his bedroom. “Wait here.” He grabbed a T-shirt from the bedroom. “Shower. Change. I’ll go check your apartment.”
She swallowed, relief darkening her hazel eyes. “Thank you.”
He waited to hear the click on the bathroom door before pulling on jeans and a shirt. It was only then that he lifted the Glock again and headed to her apartment. Even though it might be nothing…it also might not be.
Her apartment door was ajar. He tapped it open, keeping his back to the wall as he glanced around. The hall and kitchen lights were on.
He started in her bedroom, checking the window behind the closed curtains. Nothing. And nothing in the room either. Next he searched the bathroom, then the living room.
