I scan the street, but don’t see him. I’ve always known he follows me from time to time, but it’s getting more frequent, and he’s getting more threatening. I need to talk him down and give him more money—that should help.
I take a deep breath and put my car in drive. Deep down, I know no matter how much I give him, Daryl will only come back asking for more. Especially now, with Trey living with me.
Chapter 17
Trey
Trey
What’s Jessie’s favorite pizza topping?
Kacey
What’s it worth to ya?
Trey
B&N gift card?
Kacey
Deal. I totally would’ve told you for free, but if you insist.
Kacey
Pineapple.
Trey
Ew. You better not be fuckin’ with me.
Kacey
I swear on my B&N gift card.
Iwander through the house looking for something to do. I’ve been to the gym today, cooked, played Xbox, cleaned my truck, and talked myself out of starting a bathroom remodel.
I’m. Bored.
It turns out, getting your life together is kind of boring. I met with my financial advisor, and we’re looking into some real estate investments, expanding my retirement stock portfolio and a few other opportunities. It’s nothing huge, but it’s a step in the right direction, and I feel good about it. There isn’t a lot I can do with how much I travel, but I can invest and prepare for my future in other ways.
It’s a little after 7 p.m., and I know Jessie should be home soon. I’m surprising her with homemade pizza and the regency romance show she’s been obsessed with.
We’ve settled into a routine. Every night—or morning—she gets off work, I have food ready or ordered. We eat, talk about our days, and hang out. Sometimes, she’ll read while I play video games; other times, we’ll watch movies or TV shows together.
I’m in the kitchen sliding the pizza into the oven when Jessie comes through the back door, herMary Poppinsbag banging on the door frame as she enters.
Even though her hair is a mess, and she’s wearing little makeup, she looks stunning in her maroon scrubs. She walks right past me, into the living room, and falls face-down onto the couch. It’s safe to assume she’s had a long day. I don’t think she’s sleep-tired; I think she’s worn out by life. She works more hours than anyone I’ve ever known, and I wish I could help her, but Idon’t know how when she won’t let me. So I always fall back on cheering her up—that I can do.
I walk to the couch and look down at her.
“What?” she snaps.
Yikes. Someone’s testy tonight.
“Are you hungry?” I ask pleasantly, ignoring the daggers she’s shooting at me from her eyes. I don’t take it personally. It’s not about me; I’m just standing the closest.
“Maybe.” She perks up, suddenly smelling the pizza.
