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He turns and books it through our backyard with his boots slipping on the dew-wet grass.
The police cruiser screeches to a halt in front of the house. Sheriff Armstrong gets out, face set in stone. He’s a big man, but today he looks tired, like he’s already had enough bullshit for one lifetime. He comes up the walk, radio in one hand, the other resting on his hip.
“Everyone all right?” he asks, scanning us one by one.
I nod, but Casey’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering.
“He tried to break in,” my mother says. “We held the door, but he almost got inside.”
Armstrong nods grimly. “He’s been on my radar since the incident at graduation. You’re not the only ones he’s bothering.” He takes a notepad from his breast pocket. “Mind if I ask a few questions?”
We answer all the Sheriff’s questions. Casey stays mostly silent except to confirm that yes, she used to date him, and yes, he’s been texting non-stop since she dumped him.
“He’s obsessed with her,” I say, unable to keep the venom out of my voice. “He acts like she owes him something, like she’s property.”
Armstrong scribbles notes, then looks up. “I’ll have my deputies keep an eye on the little shit. In the meantime, stop by the courthouse and file a restraining order.”
“He tried to break down the door,” I point out.
He nods, tired. “Have you told Wyatt about it?” he asks and I realize the Silver Spoon Falls Grapevine has been busy.
“He knows about it.” Mostly, I’ve been downplaying how bad it’s gotten because I didn’t want to drag Wyatt into the situation.
Casey finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s going to hurt someone. I know it.”
Armstrong’s eyes soften, just a little. “We’ll keep an extra unit nearby tonight. If he comes back, call me on my cell.” He tears off the number and hands it to my mom.
He promises to patrol the neighborhood, then leaves us standing on the porch as he pulls away.
That night, I unfold the entire story to Wyatt, revealing the unsettling episode of Stellan's menacing behavior. His anger flares, eyes narrowing like a storm brewing as he processes the threat against us. “Don’t ever keep something like this from me,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the room. His lips trail a fervent path down my body, each kiss igniting a fire on my skin. “It’s my job to keep you and our family safe, and I can’t do that if I don’t know about threats,” he insists, the determination in his voice as solid as steel. As he devours my pussy, I find myself whispering all kinds of promises, my words a passionate pledge to keep him informed, no matter the circumstances.
