“You’re killing me, Paige McCarty!” Matt shouts to me as I climb up the stairs and put my key in the lock.
I can’t keep the smile off of my face as I open the door and leave him outside on the sidewalk to think about what he’s missing. I hear his truck start up and pull away a few seconds later as I flop down on the couch, tossing my bag onto the coffee table. Seeing a piece of paper sitting on the glass top, I lean forward and pick it up. The smile dies on my face when I see the words scribbled across it in perfectly neat, block letters:
IF YOU KNOW WHAT’S GOOD FOR YA, YOU’LL STOP STICKIN YOUR NOSE WHERE IT DON’T BELONG. GO BACK TO BEING IN PRETTY PICTURES AND NO ONE GETS HURT.
I drop the note like it’s on fire and scramble up from the couch, staring frantically around my condo, afraid to breathe.
Someone was in my home. Someone knows I’ve been looking into Vinnie DeMarco. What if they’re still here?
For the first time today, I wish my mother were here with her gun.
CHAPTER 15
We’re going to the fucking police right now,” Matt states angrily as he hits the blinker in his F-150 truck to take us into town.
When I ran out of my house in a panic, I pulled my phone out of my purse and called the first person I thought of. Was it just because I could still taste him on my lips? I could have called my mom, but I knew she would just lecture me, and I could have called Kennedy, but that would mean I’d have to come clean about what I’d been doing and I wasn’t ready for that. The only person I wanted in the midst of my fear was Matt. It exhilarated me and scared the shit out of me all at the same time.
I’d grown used to my independence in the months since my divorce, and it was a frightening feeling to want to depend on another person again. Especially one of the male gender who could fuck me over in the blink of an eye and crush my heart to pieces if he suddenly decided he was still in love with his lying, cheating ex.
“There’s no need to get the police involved. I probably overreacted. For all I know it was Andy trying to cause trouble because I won’t give him any money.”
He stops at the empty intersection and stares across the front seat of the truck at me. I can see the battle going on in his eyes. He wants so much to protect me from the person who left a threatening note in my house, but he also wants to do whatever I ask.
“I don’t like this, Paige. I don’t like this at all.”
Then he sighs deeply and takes the street that leads away from downtown and away from the police.
Andy would always make decisions for me. He would tell me that he was doing what he thought was in my best interest or say that the few years in age he had on me meant that he was able to make more informed choices about my life. Really, he wanted to make me feel like I needed him to function. For the first few months after we separated, I almost believed it. I didn’t know how to do anything on my own. I didn’t remember how to make the simplest of decisions because I had been relying on him for so long. With the help of my friends, I was able to see just how much he controlled my life and slowly get my independence back.
Something as little as having Matt listen to me when I tell him what I want means more to me than he’ll ever know. He didn’t belittle me or tell me that I didn’t know what I was talking about. He let me make my own decision, even if it turns out to be the wrong one.
I feel my throat growing tight with unshed tears and I have to clear it to keep them at bay. I will not cry right now.
“I wish you would have let me look through your place. What if whoever left that note was still there?” Matt asks.
“Are you crazy? That’s like something straight out of a horror movie. You never go back into a house looking for the bad people. It always ends with a machete to the face,” I argue.
“A machete, huh? Do you normally have a lot of people with machetes after you?” Matt asks with a laugh. “I’m seriously considering turning the truck around and going back to the police if that’s the case.”
“Like I said, I probably just made a big deal out of nothing. I’ll get hold of Andy first thing tomorrow and put the fear of God into him.”
“And if it wasn’t that little weasel, what then? Your friends aren’t sick and twisted enough to do this as some sort of joke, are they?” he asks.
I’m not going to lie; it warms my heart even more that he called Andy a weasel.