A minute passes before he replies.I should let you go then so you can get some sleep. Call me when you get up?
Rolling my eyes, my thumbs race across the screen.I don’t want to wake you up just to pick a time, that’s dumb. How about you give me a little warning before you head this way and I’ll order something? Low stress, no pressure hang out.
There’s a long pause before his next text comes through, so he’s probably on the verge of passing out.Maybe we up it to lunch then?
Biting my lip, I write and delete my response four times before saying fuck it and hitting send before I can chicken out.Well, I still feel bad for not taking you up on that breakfast offer. You could always crash here and we could order something whenever we’re both semi-functional. Two birds, one stone; breakfast for dinner.
Three dots appear and disappear several times as I wait for his response, and I thump my head on the pillow a few times, cursing myself out and wishing I could delete it and pretend I never hit send. After an agonizingly long stretch, he finally replies, and my stomach somersaults with nerves as I force myself to read it.
K.
K. MotherfuckingK.Why men think that isn’t the most passive aggressive, infuriating thing ev-
A knock at my door interrupts my mental tirade, stopping my growing frustration dead in its tracks. Huffing out an amused breath, I toss off my blanket and roll out of bed. As I make my way down the tiny hallway and through the living room, I throw my tangled hair into a quick ponytail.
Pulling the door open, I frown when no one’s there. Sticking my head out into the hall, there’s not a person to be seen, the landing and stairwell clear. Closing and relocking the door, I nervously head back to my room and grab my phone, but there aren't any new messages from Boden, only the reminder that it’s not even three in the morning. The ominous digits stare back at me, taunting,daringme to do something.
And that’s exactly why I don’t. What good would going poking around the building on my own do? Not like I know who I’m looking for, and what would I even do if I found them? Ask them why they ding-dong-ditched my apartment? After my conversation with Reid the other night, I might have considered calling him, but Bo already saidK,so that means he’s on his way over. No point waking everybody up since I’m not currently being chased around my apartment by an axe murderer. Most likely if itwasmace-face come for revenge like Reid’s worried about, he’s trying to get in my head and toy with me, showing me that he knows where I live so that I’ll start jumping at shadows.
Jokes on him, my brain’s already full of parental trauma and intrusive thoughts, so there’s no space left for him to occupy.
Moving to the bathroom, I brush my teeth and relieve myself as I wait. By the time I’m done, there’s another knock at the door, and I’m torn between if I want to find someone on the other side or not. Looking through the peephole first, I open it up, this time to Bo’s broad frame filling the doorway.
“That must have been one hell of a business trip.”
Raking my gaze over him, his golden eyes are dull, dark shadows under his eyes. There’s enough scruff covering his jaw that he probably hasn’t shaved since I last saw him, and his entire presence, despite his massive size, seems smaller.
He manages a weak half-smile. “Morning to you, too.”
Holding the door open, I wave him in, but he stiffens in the doorway before he makes it a single step past the threshold. “You have company lately?”
Frowning, I glance behind me, but it’s notthatmuch of a mess to warrant the judgment. “No, why?”
Pivoting, he scans the hall, taking a few steps away to glance down the stairs. While it’s unsettling that he’s suddenly nervous, too, I feel strangely validated that he’s picking up on the weird vibes even though he wasn’t here for my ghost earlier, assuring me that I’m not crazy. Then again, everything seems ten times more suspicious at three in the morning. It doesn’t help my previous bravado though, seeing a man the size ofBodenon edge.
He hesitantly steps into my apartment, closing and locking the door before doing a visual sweep of the room. “Just a feeling,” he eventually replies, enough time passing that I struggle to remember what I even asked. “But it’s been a long week and I’m probably being paranoid.”
I’m not about to be the stupid person that keeps secrets and hides things, simply to wake up with a knife to my throat. “You’re not paranoid. There was a knock at the door about ten minutes ago, but when I answered it, there wasn’t anyone there.”
His gaze whips back to me, scanning me for signs of injury in case he missed them on his first perusal, clearly ignoring the part where I said there was nobody there. “You’re sure?”
Snagging the remote off of the coffee table, I flop down on one end of the old couch, sinking into the worn upholstery. “Yep. Not much going on this time of night that I’d mistake it for the kids running around in the apartment above me. Didn’t say a word or leave anything at the door. I suppose it’s possible that someone was looking for the apartment next to mine and realized their mistake quickly, but that seems awfully convenient with everything going on.”
He stares down at me, expression guarded. “What do you mean?”
My brow furrows as I look at him, but quickly smooths out when I realize he hasn’t talked to Reid yet. Whether it’s because he just got back into town and hasn’t checked his messages, that Reid was waiting to talk to him in person, or that he took my request to not tell the others what happened with my mom to encompass our entire conversation that night, Bo has no idea that I’m aware of their stalkerish inclinations. And, well, my acceptance of the target on my back that comes with keeping Emmy as a friend. Potentially getting involved with her brothers is simply a convenient bonus, but I’d still be on board taking the risk even if they weren’t such intriguing motivators to make poor life choices.
“Have you talked to Reid this week?”
With a wary shake of his head, he withdraws his phone, scrolling for a while. While he’s busy, I flip through channels, searching for a halfway decent movie to put on for background noise and smile to myself as I realize that means the first thing he did when he had his phone on again was text me instead of catching up on all of his messages.
“The fuck?” he murmurs in shock, finally glancing up.
“I know, I know, they ruined the surprise. But if it’s any consolation, I think you’re going to like the dress Cinjin picked out.”
Spinning his phone so that I can see the screen, he gives me an incredulous snort. “Obviously, and I’m not the only one. But you know damn well that isn’t what I’m talking about.”
I get a quick glimpse of the picture Cinjin snapped in the dress store plopped in a group chat between the four of them, followed by a slew of appreciative responses and GIFs. Suddenly embarrassed, I tug the throw blanket off of the back of the couch.
