“Dad, what’s up?”
“I need you to come by your mom’s house.”
“Can’t. I’ve got plans.”
“They can wait.”
“No way. I’ve had plans with these guys for a week now.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and pray for calm. “It won’t be a late night. Push back your plans ’til nine.”
“Dad, this isn’t fair. I—”
“Ry, please.” Is it too much to ask for a little help?
Silence.
“Ry?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Stop by the grocery store on your way; put it on the card.”
“Fine.” A long sigh.
“We’re having dinner here tonight, so grab some steaks while you’re there.”
“Whatever.”
“Thanks, man. Later.”
He doesn’t say goodbye.
I hope this little family dinner doesn’t blow up in my face and make things worse for Ryder and his mom. Dinner. Just one dinner.
And suddenly I have a powerful urge to drown in warm sugar and cinnamon.
*
Eve
It’s late and I’m watching DVR episodes of “Say Yes to the Dress.” My eyes burn either from exhaustion or crying. Who knew watching women pick out their wedding dresses would be so emotional? I sniff and wipe my cheeks with my comforter that’s pulled up to my neck.
“I’m never getting married.” I sound like such a baby.
After seeing Cameron at work today, I’ve been in a funk. Another reminder of all the things I’ll never have. Sure, I could probably find a husband who’ll beat the shit out of me and call me names, but what’s the fun in that? I roll my eyes at the direction of my thoughts.
I scroll through recorded shows but quickly tire of the same ole crap. I should go to bed, but I can’t get my brain to slow down enough to sleep.
How could he not have more to say? Even a “hey, how are ya” would’ve been better than his silence. Not that I deserve more. He probably thinks I’m a whore. I mean I basically acted like one. He tried to say something before he left that night in my room, and I wouldn’t even let him do that. I wonder what he would’ve said if I hadn’t cut him off with my ridiculous rules-of-a-one-night-stand speech? From the look on his face today, I’m guessing it would not have been “Let’s do this again sometime.”
I pushed him away after we had sex, and today at the restaurant, he treated me no better than I deserved, even left without saying goodbye. Shocker.
My doorbell rings. I jump. Who the hell would be here—I check my clock—after midnight?
I dip deeper into my bed, pulling my comforter up to my eyes. This neighborhood has seen its fair share of yellow tape, and it would be just my luck. My heart races and my body heats. A knock at the door. Crap, it’s a psycho murderer.
Do I even have a weapon? There’s a baseball bat in my closet, if I could—the doorbell rings again.
“I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die.” My palms sweat. I can’t just lie here and do nothing. I drop out of my bed to the floor and crawl to my closet.
A loud knock sounds on the door.
“Shit! Okay, think.” I take a few deep breaths. The door is locked, so that should buy me some—oh crap. I left my front windows open. If I call 911, I’ll be dead before the cops get here. I’m going to have to fight. Blood pounds in my ears as I grab my bat and tighten my hands around the grip. I hold it at the ready as I creep through the dark toward the front door.
Another knock. I squeak and cover my mouth, hoping the psycho didn’t hear me. Tiptoeing, I move through the living room to the front door.
“I can do this.” I reach out and slowly twist the lock. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Here goes nothing. With one quick move, I hurl open the door. “Die, motherfucker!” I swing hard, but in a flash, the psycho whips out a hand and catches the bat before it makes contact with his head.
“Fuckin’ shit, Eve!”
I freeze, my chest heaving as adrenaline fuels my nervous system. “Cameron?”
He yanks the bat and manages to pull me closer to him before I release my grip. He opens his mouth to say something, but his eyes lock on my chest and no sound comes out. I do a quick mental assessment, grateful that I’m wearing my favorite pair of lacy boy shorts and a newer white tank that isn’t covered in stains. His eyes drag down my body, narrowing as they go until they’re nothing more than tight slits. My thighs warm and my tummy tumbles at the predatory way he takes me in. Inviting me to play while pushing me to run.
“I thought you were a murderer!” I hiss through my teeth.
“Murderers knock on doors?”