I need a shower. That’ll help clear my head.
I stroll through the door—and scream.
“Jesus.” I clutch my chest, heart furiously pounding. “What the hell, Mr. Pickles?”
He lifts his head, the mouse dangling from his mouth.
I’m about to melt the fuck down when I see it.
“It’s a damn toy?” I screech. “You almost gave me a heart attack!”
Mr. Pickles jumps down from my bed, still carrying the mouse, looking pleased with himself.
I scrub a hand down my face and begin unbuttoning my shirt, muttering to myself the whole time.
As I step beneath the spray, a ridiculous thought crosses my mind.
Maybe Violet has some kind of psychic connection with Mr. Pickles and sent him to punish me for screwing things up this morning.
I laugh.
I'm losing my damn mind.
I pace back and forth,glancing out the window each time I turn to face it.
I'm not being watched.
I don't feel it.
And somehow... I'm disappointed.
That should concern me.
My nerves are jumping so badly I want to crawl out of my skin.
I head toward the kitchen, pausing at the patio doors.
Nothing unusual.
Same old boring backyard.
Normally, it gives me comfort.
But not today.
My phone beeps. I yank it from my pocket, my palms sweaty.
But it’s not her.
Sebastian: Ivy and I are rug shopping in the city. Be home for dinner.
I stare at it.
I don’t know if it’s a blessing... or a curse.
Do I want to be alone?Or do I want to talk to someone?
I head back to my room, throw on a pair of sneakers, and head out the door, pointing at Mr. Pickles and telling the psycho cat to behave.
