Chapter 3 #2
After he took approximately a thousand photos of my house, he took me to the Sleepy Hollow Inn to stay for the night, leaving me with instructions to call him if I needed anything.
“If you’re scared, if something seems off, you hear a weird sound…
anything,” he told me. “You just call. It doesn’t matter what time it is. ”
The next day, his day off, no less, Kane spent hours at my house installing new security cameras and sensors.
Now, if anyone even breathes near a window—which is how Kane thinks the intruder got in last time—the alarms will go off.
Plus, I have extra locks on every door, panic buttons spread throughout the house, and an array of self defense items like pepper spray, safety whistles, and even a tiny stun gun.
“I shouldn’t give this to you,” Kane warned. “It’s not legal in New York, so I could get in trouble if anyone finds out. But if you’re in danger… I want you to be able to defend yourself.”
Like I’d tell anyone where I got it from. I wouldn’t do anything to get Kane in trouble. Not before all this, and definitely not now.
As I walk into the house, I scan the living room, exhaling heavily once I realize everything still looks the same as I left it. No upside-down pictures, no rearranged furniture, nothing missing from the coffee table or the bookshelves.
Heart pounding, I move through the rest of the house with my new canister of pepper spray clutched in one hand, the stun gun in the other.
I nudge open doors with my foot, leaping back like a startled cat just in case someone jumps out at me.
I peer under each bed, feeling much like I used to as a little kid, back when I was convinced there was a monster lurking beneath the mattress, waiting to eat me .
It takes me about ten minutes to make a full circuit of the house, and by the time I finish, I’m breathing like I just completed a marathon.
Adrenaline is pulsing through me and cold sweat has soaked through my shirt.
When I try to hang up my purse, it almost falls onto the floor because my hand is shaking so badly.
I check the front door once more before I collapse onto the couch, feeling completely drained.
How am I going to do this every day? Especially given that it’s winter and it gets dark so early?
And what about tomorrow, when I’m supposed to go to Shea’s for reality-TV-night?
I won’t get home until well after ten. Which means I’ll be creeping through my house, half-convinced an intruder is waiting for me…
My heart lurches at the thought.
I could cancel. Stay home with all the lights on.
But I really don’t want to. I’ve been looking forward to Monday night all week. I don’t want to sit on my couch all alone, feeling scared and disappointed with myself.
So I’ll just suck it up. It’ll be okay.
I hope.
Leaning forward, I grab the fireplace remote and click it on, then sag back against the cushions. I pull the throw off the back of the couch and tuck it around me, bundling myself up in the thick fleece fabric.
As I stare at the fake flames in the fireplace, I use the box breathing technique to try to calm myself down. Four in, four hold, four out. Then again. And again.
By the time I get to the tenth round, I almost feel normal. Or at least, not on the verge of a heart attack. I feel composed enough to consider a shower, or maybe search for something to watch on TV .
Then my phone chimes, the sudden sound sending my heart flying into my throat.
As I grab my phone off the coffee table, I scold myself for being so jumpy. It’s just the phone, for crying out loud. What am I going to do, panic every time a phone rings? That’ll go over well when I’m back at work tomorrow.
I look at the screen, expecting to see Nora’s name there, or possibly Thea’s.
But instead, I see the name of the person I’ve been thinking about for days.
Fantasizing about, if I’m being honest with myself—imagining scenarios where things were different and the first man I’ve been interested in over a decade actually felt the same way about me.
Kane.
My heart makes a foolish, hopeful leap before crashing back down to harsh reality.
I’m sure he’s just texting to check in. To make sure the security system is working as it should. He’s just being a conscientious police officer. There’s nothing more to it.
Then I read his message.
Hey, how’s it going? Are you back from coffee with Nora yet? Is everything okay at home?
Even though I know he’s just being nice, I can’t help the rush of pleasure that comes from reading his text. Not just because he’s thinking about me, but he remembered my plans for the day. He cared enough to remember.
I smile as I type out my reply.
Yes, just got home. Everything looks good. How’s your day going ?
Three dots blink for a few seconds before his response appears.
It’s good. Just taking care of some projects around the house. I might head to the rock climbing center later to meet up with a friend. Nothing too exciting.
There’s a brief pause, and then another message blinks onto the screen.
How was last night? Being back at your place? Did your friend come over to keep you company?
For a second, I blink at the message, not sure what he’s talking about. What friend? Last night I was alone, trying to concentrate on Tenebris Veil while jumping from fear every time I heard the smallest sound.
Then I remember. Kane looked so worried yesterday about me spending the night by myself, I told him I’d invite a friend over to make him feel better. Which I didn’t.
But I’m not going to admit to making it up, so instead I come up with a vague response.
No, I just stayed home by myself. It was fine. Just watched some TV and played some video games.
As soon as I hit send, I want to smack myself. And I frantically look for the unsend feature.
Why would I tell Kane about playing video games? Thirty-five-year-old women don’t spend hours completing complicated quests to obtain top tier armor. They go out with friends. Or out on dates. Or they’re already married with families of their own.
But before I can come up with something to make myself seem less nerdy, my phone chimes with another message.
That’s cool. What games do you play ?
After a moment’s hesitation, I reply.
Tenebris Veil. I know it sounds kind of nerdy, but I got into it in college.
His response is immediate.
Not nerdy. I think it’s interesting. I’ve never played myself, but I’d give it a try.
Oh.
Is he serious? Would he actually want to see my character, an undead rogue named Jinx, who I’ve been playing for the last eight years? Or is he just being polite?
While I’m debating how to respond, he texts again.
Not that I’m trying to weasel an invite to your house to watch you play. Just saying it sounds cool.
My heart leaps again. And before I change my mind, I send back a reply.
You could come over to watch. Or you could use my laptop and I could show you how to play.
My face goes hot as I watch those darn three dots blinking. My pulse races.
Did I just make a fool of myself?
Then his message comes in, and all my breath leaves me in a rush.
I’d really like that. But actually. I was wondering if you might want to go out this week? Since the Chief is officially in charge of your case now, it wouldn’t be a conflict of interest. Maybe we could have dinner and then you could show me your game?
I’m so surprised, I just stare at the phone, completely at a loss for words.
Is he asking me out?
It sounds like a date, but could it be ?
How could Kane—gorgeous, smart, kind Kane—possibly want to take me on a date?
Another text flashes onto the screen.
If you don’t want to, that’s okay. Maybe it’s weird of me to ask. Or if it’s not a good time…
He thinks I don’t want to go out with him ?
Crap.
It takes me three tries to come up with a response.
I’d really like to go out this week. The only night I can’t is Monday, since I have TV night at Shea’s. But dinner and showing you my game sounds great.
The instant I hear the little swoosh of the message sending, I cringe.
Great? What kind of answer is that?
But Kane replies right away.
How about Tuesday? I’m done with work around four, so I could pick you up at six if that’s not too late.
And since you’re going to Shea’s tomorrow, I’ll ask Oliver to pick you up and bring you home.
So he can check out the house. I’d do it myself, but since you’re already going to be there, it makes more sense.
Warmth expands in my chest, a balloon filling close to bursting.
A date. With Kane. Not only that, but he cares enough to ask his partner to bring me home tomorrow. He’d even do it himself.
As I look at the screen, smiling at Kane’s message, I catch a glimpse of the scars on my neck and jaw.
The happy balloon threatens to burst.
That heavy feeling of never being good enough settles over me, making me wonder if I’m just kidding myself. If Kane’s really just being nice, and this date is all in my head. If I’m just setting myself up for disappointment again.
Just as I’m contemplating an excuse to get out of it, Kane sends another text.
What am I saying? I’ll bring you to Shea’s and pick you up. Is that okay? Not that I don’t trust Oliver, but I’d rather check your house out myself.
OH.
Tears spring to my eyes, but for the first time I can remember, they’re happy ones.
Maybe it really is a date.
And maybe, just maybe, Kane’s actually interested in me.