“Then he just, like, cut out the middleman.”
The statement was so wrong and yet so right at the same time. Benny was a sweetheart gym rat who might have aptly been calleda himbo, and he loved to assume the best in people. So did Seth on his better days, but sometimes it was nice to play the grump for once, especially after putting up with this disappointing day.
Seth considered arguing a little more, just for the fun of it, but then he paused, holding his phone to his chest.
Had he heard something? Over by his window maybe?
When he’d chosen this house to rent, Seth had liked that he was out on the edge of the woods without too many people around, but he suddenly wished he had neighbors on all sides, instead of the one old lady next to him who Seth was pretty sure was half-deaf, based on their few interactions.
Would she even hear Seth if he screamed bloody murder? Or if he was murdered bloodily, for that matter?
Seth crawled off the couch and tiptoed to the window, peering out. The rain had stopped, although water was still dripping slowly off the roof. He didn’t see anyone lurking nearby, no hooded figures with ice picks in hand waiting to off him in the dark.
“What if he comes back?” Seth whispered into the phone. “The tackler.”
“Call the cops?”
Seth frowned out the window. He didn’t love the idea of calling the so-called authorities on someone who was maybe just going through a tough time. “Seems mean.”
“Then keep your doors locked and call me. Helio can get us there, like, really fast.”
Seth couldn’t help a small eye roll, even as he murmured some vague sound of acknowledgment. Benny’s husband, Helio, was super odd and super rich, but even private jets could only go so fast. Seth didn’t think they’d be able to rescue him from a murderer, unless the murderer was moving at the speed of frozen molasses, or setting up some elaborateSaw-esque torture game.
Benny cleared his throat. “Hey, Seth, are you really okay?”
Oh,thatdreaded question. But Seth loved his cousin enough to give it a good think before answering, “Yeah, I’m good. Just a hard day. But, you know, change.”
“You can come back if you want. Everyone would be stoked to have you.”
“I know.” And he did. But Seth didn’t really want to go back to Maine. Not yet, at least. He’d been in a rut back home, living in the same tiny tourist town where he’d been born and raised. And that might have been okay if he’d beenhappy—Seth didn’t mind having a quiet sort of life—but he hadn’t been. Not for a while. Something had been…off. Missing, maybe. Old friends moving on or settling down and Seth just alwaysthere, kind of stagnant and ornamental, just another part of the charming scenery.
So, no, Seth wasn’t going to go running back after one slow day and a little light battery.
He’d just made it back to the couch when he heard a noise again. A scrape against his wall? A subdued cough? An ice pick sliding through gravel, perhaps?
Seth suppressed his shiver mercilessly. He wasn’t going back to the window. He was being paranoid, and it wouldn’t help to indulge the madness.
Although, to be fair, his pastriesweredelicious. Maybe his sort-of attacker had tasted them and come running back for more.
Seth deliberately settled into the ugly couch, tucking the blanket around himself like a straitjacket so he wouldn’t be tempted to get up and scout the perimeter again.
“Have you gotten a good running route yet?” Benny asked.
Seth made a vague noise that could have been interpreted as a yes or no. “I’m working on it.”
Seth wasn’t a hardcore fitness maniac like his cousin, but he liked the endorphins of a good run now and again. Trudging along in the rain and the mud was another matter entirely, and he wasgiving himself time to adjust to the change in conditions. Maybe he’d treat himself to some fancy, waterproof running gear.
Not tonight though. Tonight he was going to chat mindlessly with his cousin, then watch TV mindlessly by himself, and then conk out mindlessly by dinnertime.
The catch about baking for a living was the part where Seth had to arrive at work by four a.m. When he’d been younger, Seth might have partied all night and just pushed through until the next day, but he wasn’t up for that kind of life anymore. He was usually in bed by nine p.m. at the latest, and even that could be a stretch. When he’d worked for Marjorie back in Seacliff, he’d at least had a few days off a week, but until he decided he could pay someone to help out, Mondays would be his only free morning here.
Seth resisted the urge to chew on his nails as he considered sleeping in his new house after being tackled in the driveway. He’d painted them bright orange—another sartorial attempt to fight off the gloominess of the weather—which meant he had to wear gloves when baking but also meant he was less likely to engage in old stress habits.
No nibbling, he reminded himself.
“Hey, Benny…I can do this, right?”
Benny didn’t hesitate. “Hell yeah, you can.”
