“That poor, poor girl,” somebody says.
Mae’s elbow bumps against mine as she moves closer. “Talk about fucked-up. First, your break-in. Now a murder? What’s next?”
The hair at my nape rises at her comment, an uneasy feeling settling in my gut.
All bad things come in threes.
So what’s next?
Mae shakes her head. “Talk about a charming small-town life, huh?”
“Yeah, charming indeed.”
Unable to shake this feeling, I look up, my gaze scanning the street. I’m not even sure what I’m looking for until I spot him.
Damien.
He’s standing across the road with one of his buddies, a deep scowl etched on his face as he glares straight at me, which makes me shudder.
“Fucking asshole,” Mae mutters as she slips her arm through mine and tugs me in the opposite direction, her gaze throwing daggers at the group.
I nibble at the inside of my cheek.
“It’s him, right?” Even as I ask, I can hear the uncertainty in my voice. “It has to be.”
“He’s probably just way better at hiding it. Then again, most narcissists are.”
I nod, although I can feel doubt sneaking in.
Because what if it’s not him?
I’m still unable to push aside that unsettling feeling after I drop Mae off at her place once we’re done with our Pilates class. Not after seeing Damien shoot me a death glare. If he was pissed atme before for breaking it off, I don’t even want to think about how he’s feeling now that he’s been brought into the station and has been accused of the break-in.
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, my palms sweaty. Maybe now he’ll finally realize that we’re done and leave me alone.
That’s the hope, right?
I slow down as I approach the big butter-yellow house that comes into view. It’s late, and the lights are on downstairs, figures moving through the rooms as they go about their daily lives. I slowly continue around the house and toward the back.
Nico told me earlier that my place had been cleared and I could come home any time, but just the thought of going back to my house makes a cold sweat wash over me.
I’m not ready to go back.
Not even close.
It feels… violating.
Having someone walk through your space, touch your things, and destroy them? I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to look at it the same way. Ever be able to feel safe in my own home. I’m not sure what that even means for me, but I’m not ready to deal with it. Not just yet.
Matthew’s cottage comes into view. The place used to be one of the ranch hands’ lodgings, but it was recently renovated, and Chase let Matthew stay there after Rose and her son moved in with him. Putting the car in park, I kill the engine and grab my bag, but when I look up, it’s like I’ve been thrown back in time.
The pitch darkness.
My breath gets stuck in my throat as I stare in front of me. My body is completely paralyzed with sheer panic as I fight for air.
Why is it so dark?
Matthew usually has a light on the porch.
