Yes, I’d been married twice. Of course people judged me. And as my son wisely liked to say,Sometimes people just suck.
Me:Almost back? It’s late.
Trevor:Be there in 5. We went for ice cream after the movie.
I relaxed for a second, relieved that he’d answered, only to tense again at his response.
Me:He’s lactose intolerant.
Trevor:A little dairy won’t hurt him.
Me:The nausea he’ll have all night will. And why are you texting while driving? Especially at night while it’s snowing.
Trevor:Why are you texting me while knowing I’m driving with such precious cargo, then?
Trevor:AndI’m voice-texting. Relax.
Trevor:And I got him that vegan crap. Even if I think that dairy intolerance stuff is nonsense. So, relax there too.
Me:Maybe one day he’ll thank you for toughening up his gut. Today’s not that day.
Trevor:Roger that.
Trevor was an excellent father, and even a good friend now, but we were total opposites, and sometimes he could be such a pain in the butt.
I tossed my phone onto the bed and went to my dresser for the wine. I needed to kill five minutes, and it wouldn’t be with that box.
Instead of picking up my glass, I lifted the framed picture beside it. It was a photo of Chase mid–snowball fight with his uncle, Ryder, along with Ryder’s two teammates. Three elite Delta operators had lost—and lost quite comically—to my son.
We’d taken hundreds of photos during those few days at Christmas, trying to make up for lost time.
Trevor had spent the holiday with his parents in Michigan, so I’d used the quiet to introduce myself to my brother. The brother I’d only found out existed at Thanksgiving, when I learned the man who’d raised me as his daughter my whole life wasn’t my biological dad.
Talk about an eye-opening family dinner. Something told me it wasn’t the wine that’d loosened my mother’s lips that evening; it was the guilt she’d been living with for thirty-three years.
The ink on the paperwork for this house had barely been dry when I had to survive two curveballs: I had another dad and a half brother. One sent me packing, and the other welcomed me with open arms.
I was seconds from rethinking every bad decision I’d ever made when my neighbor’s dog started barking. I set down the photo, thebarking drowning out the clock but not the other sound. Had the floorboards creaked downstairs?
I tried to listen closely, but Peter Pan, the Labradoodle next door, wouldn’t quiet down long enough for me to focus.
Still, that noise hadn’t come from the pipes ... and Ihadheard something, hadn’t I?
Feet flat to the floor, I crept toward the door, intending to shut and lock it. I wasnotgoing to be like the girl in a horror movie who investigated strange noises in the dark.
Of course, even Chase knew how to pick the lock with a butter knife, which was why step two would be to grab my phone. Step three was under my bed.
Trevor had insisted I keep a gun in the house—a 9mm in a biometric lockbox. I’d humored him, never thinking I’d need it.
Please, God, don’t let tonight be the exception.
Chills burst up my back and goose bumps covered my skin as I softly turned the lock. That sense of unease spread into something sharp and distinct. Somethingreal.No, my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.Someone’s here.
Peter Pan finally went quiet, and I heard the unmistakable sound of someone walking around my house.
My heart pounded, terror tightening in my chest. My lungs begged to scream, but fear and common sense held me in silence.
I backed away from the door, grabbed my phone, and called Trevor. I fell to my knees by the bed with plans to reach for the lockbox.
