Oh my god! There is a serial killer!
A serial killer wouldn’t knock.
Maybe not in the 1980’s movie version, but the 2019 version? Absolutely.
It’s probably Michael. Her Michael, not Michael Myers.
Her shoulders drooped remembering the look in his eyes right before he’s walked away. It wasn’t Michael.
Maybe it’s a cocky, single-dad, ex-Navy SEAL-turned-lumberjack who’s a secret billionaire who’s lost his way in the woods along with his shirt!
“Wow. I have been reading way too much romance.”
She dried her hands on the dish towel and crossed to the front door as the person on the other side knocked again. More likely it was Claudia and Maria checking on her.
Since there was no peephole or chain to verify it wasn’t a serial killer, she set her foot firmly on the floor and opened the door a few inches.
“Guys, you didn’t have—What areyoudoing here?”
“Rowan—” Luke stumbled forward.
Blood ran down his face from a cut on his forehead. She tried to stop his fall but couldn’t hold his weight and let him fall to the floor, where he lay unmoving.
She stared down at him and pursed her lips. “I would have preferred a serial killer.”
