On my way out, I catch sight of Mr. Howard again, deep in conversation with a distinguished older gentleman.
I don’t need an introduction to know who he is. Uncle Ted, the all-powerful judge. A man who, with a word, could destroy everything Eddie has worked so hard to build.
My chest tightens as I tear my gaze away, forcing my feet to continue moving toward the door.
I really hope this is all worth it in the end. Because I’ve never felt this broken before.
I don’t bother showering or eating the rest of the weekend. I’m only out of bed long enough to let Gus out and toss some kibble in his bowl before crawling back under the covers and wishing I was dead.
And every time I wake up, there’s this small, stupid pang of disappointment, not that I actually want to disappear, just that I want all of this to stop. The pain. The fear. The loneliness. All of it.
Don’t get me wrong. I love life. Or at least, I did before it became a never-ending experiment in terror. But right now? Outside of my gentle old pup, I’ve got nothing.
Most of my family is gone. The few friends I have left are busy living their lives. The man I adore will never speak to me again.
And let’s be real. After this job, it’s not like there’s going to be anything else lined up for me in Sparkwood. Not when Eddie was the one getting me work around town in the first place.
I roll on my side, burying my face into Gus’s fur as he curls up beside me. “You are the only good thing I’ve got, Gus. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
His tail thumps lazily against the mattress before he leans in and licks my face, dragging a reluctant smile out of me.
“Humans will never be as cool as dogs. Not even close.”
I reach for my phone, squinting at the screen. 11:02 PM.
“Shit.” I push myself upright, groaning at the banging in my brain. “You’re starving, aren’t you, buddy? I am so sorry. God, I’m the worst mom ever. Your dinner is, what, five hours late?”
Gus perks up immediately at the mention of food and hopsoff the bed to escort me to the kitchen. I shuffle along behind him, to where he eagerly awaits his belated dinner.
He sets to eating before the bowl hits the ground, and I take a moment to glance around the cabin interior. Everything is the same and yet, something feels… off. Colder. More sinister.
Or maybe my brain has had enough of my shenanigans and is melting down as an act of resistance.
A knock sounds at my door and I jump, my entire body going rigid.
Who the hell is at my door this late at night?
I glance down at Gus, but he’s far more interested in his food. Yeah. That’s not reassuring in the slightest.
My mind immediately starts spinning theories and possibilities.
Maybe someone broke down? No. That doesn’t make any sense. I never see traffic up here, especially this time of year. The cabins are empty for the season.
Which means, there’s no one up here but me and the dog. Fabulous. Maybe it’s a serial killer come to murder me.
Seriously, Kiki. A serial killer is not going to fucking knock.
Another knock echoes through the house.
Okay. They’re not going away and my mind isnotplaying tricks on me.
I reach into the drawer and pull out a steak knife, even though I know full well that if I’m required to use it, I’ll likely miss, wind up stabbing myself and bleeding out right in front of the killer before he can do a damn thing.
Still… the feel of the handle in my hand gives me just enough courage to move.
I tiptoe toward the door, but make no move to open it. “Who’s there?”
“Kiki Wilder,” a man’s voice calls through the wood. “I need to speak with you.”
