20. You’re Safe. Get Some Sleep
You’re Safe. Get Some Sleep
Bree
M aking my way around to Arlo’s, I raise my hand to knock on the door, and it opens almost instantly. Arlo steps back to let me in, and I take a look around.
Stepping into this place is surreal. The last time I was inside this house, I was hooking up with the previous tenant, Tristan. That seems like a lifetime ago.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asks as he locks the door behind me, and I shake my head.
‘Nothing of importance.’
He nods and holds my gaze for a moment before passing me to draw the curtains at the windows.
Beans trots into the room, his tail wagging his whole back end as he nudges my hip with his head, and I scratch behind his ears.
‘Hey, buddy,’ I greet the dog that I swear is smiling at me.
‘Phone,’ Arlo says quietly, and I blink up at him to find him holding out his hand.
‘What?’
He doesn’t respond with words, just continues to hold his hand out and widens his eyes until I hand over my cell phone and he turns it off and puts it into a box, then hands me another cell phone.
‘What are you doing?’
‘We’ll use these to contact each other about the plan.’ I stare down at the cell phone in my hand. ‘From now on, we assume he’s monitoring your phone, and we don’t want to alert him to the fact that this is fake.’ There he goes again.
‘So, burner phones?’ I hold feel my eyebrows knit together as I stare at the phone, and he nods before turning and heading for the kitchen. Still in disbelief at the situation, I follow, closing my eyes when the scent of whatever he has cooking hits my nostrils and distracts me from my spiraling focus on the phone. ‘That smells incredible,’ I admit, unable to stop myself.
‘I thought we should sit inside tonight, so I made pasta instead of grilling. We need to do some planning.’
‘Planning?’
Arlo points to the open bottle of wine on the table to my right. ‘Sit, pour, we’ll talk while we eat.’
So I do. I sit, I pour, and I stare at the black phone in my hand. I don’t know how I ended up here, but I’m starting to think maybe this is all a dream.
‘S o, we need to go out together more. What do people in this town do for dates other than the bar or the diner?’ Arlo asks as we sit opposite each other, eating the tomato and garlic-based pasta dish he made. I’m trying to concentrate on his words, but it tastes so damn good, and I realize how little I’ve eaten these past few weeks. ‘Bree?’
‘Sorry.’ I swallow. ‘Um, there’s a café, also people go to the lake. Mostly, it’s the bar or the diner.’
‘Then we’ll do more. Go to the bar. Sit in a booth, get close.’
Glancing up, I see him focused, eyes down on his plate as he talks, so matter-of-factly like he’s discussing what he needs to get from the grocery store.
Suddenly losing my appetite, I place my fork down and he notices, immediately looking at me.
‘You’re not eating.’
‘I’ve had enough.’
‘You had about three bites, Bree. You need to eat,’
‘I had more than that, and it’s delicious. Thank you. But I had enough.’
Arlo places his cutlery down again and glares at me, flaring his nostrils with impatience.
‘You’re still pissed.’
‘It’s a lot, Arlo. I hardly slept, and I’m processing a fucking lot right now.’
‘Well, get your head in the game, Bree, because he’s fucking out there, and I want to keep you safe, but I need you alert.’
I take a breath. Arlo’s right. I need to get my head on straight.
‘He messaged me today. He doesn’t like me leaving town, and he really doesn’t like seeing me with you.’
He watches me for a moment, then nods, picking up his fork once more and starting to eat again.
‘Good. Now eat some more. You need the carbs.’
S itting on Arlo’s couch, I feel sleepy. Tiredness has caught up with me after a night of no sleep and a day of pretending.
‘I’ll walk you home,’ Arlo says, grabbing my attention as I realize I’m yawning again.
‘Wait,’ I push myself up to standing. ‘What about my phone? What do I do with it?’
He hands me my still-turned-off cell.
‘Everything you normally would. Just don’t message me or Mrs. C about the plan. Use the burner for that.’
‘This is too much.’ I shake my head and squeeze my eyes closed, then I hear him drop to sit on the sofa, and I turn to look at him before slumping back down.
‘We just need to hang out a few times, hold hands, look at each other the way we used to so that he gets sloppy. The second he does, we’ll end this, and you and me can go back to our lives the way they were.’ I huff out a laugh. I can hardly remember life the way it was. At least, I can hardly remember a life I want to go back to. ‘Come on, let me walk you home.’
Standing, Arlo holds out his hand for mine, and I take it, letting him lead me out of his cottage and around to mine. When we reach my porch, he stands in front of me. I tip my head back to meet his gaze as he reaches up to push my hair behind my ears, and I can’t help the tears that wet my eyes as he looks down at me like he wants me, like he cares, and I remember it’s all an act.
‘Get some sleep, pix.’
He leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead, and I inhale the scent of him, squeezing my eyes closed and pushing out a couple of those tears, turning away to my door as they roll down my cheeks, and I let myself inside.
‘Night, Arlo,’ I say, remembering to play along as I meet his blue eyes once more before closing my door and leaning back against it.
I don’t fight the tears now. There’s no point. Once more, I’m alone, and I don’t know how much more of any of this I can take.
T he cool breeze across my skin wakes me, and I sit up in bed, not knowing where the breeze is coming from. As my eyes adjust to the darkness and my focus sharpens, my attention lands on the open window, and my heart stops for a moment before racing uncontrollably.
I checked the doors and windows before I went to bed. Everything was locked. I know it was. I know I checked.
The breath in my lungs freezes, and I can’t move as fear grips me. I want to check. I want to see if he’s in my house, but I’m terrified to put my feet on the ground out of fear that the monster is hiding under my bed.
Sucking in a deep breath, I blow it out and slowly reach for my cell phone, checking for messages, but there are none, so I scroll to Arlo’s number, then pause. It’s the middle of the night, and I don’t know that there’s anything to worry about. I don’t want to wake him if, somehow, I was just careless with the window.
‘You are not afraid.’ I tell myself, my voice small. ‘You’re a cop, for fuck’s sake.’
Turning on the flashlight on my phone, I shine it around the room and see nothing out of place. The door is still closed. My closet doors still hang open, my robe hung on the corner of one of them. Like a terrified child expecting the boogie man, I launch myself off and away from the bed, immediately shining the light into the void underneath to see nothing but shoe boxes and an empty water bottle that I keep forgetting to pick up.
I suddenly realize I’m holding my breath and blow it out in a rush, letting my head hang for a moment as I pause, my hands on my knees.
‘He’s not here. He’s not here,’ I repeat, trying to reassure myself.
As I reach the door and reach out my hand for the door handle, I try to calm my nerves, then before I open it, I head back to the nightstand for my gun. The only shooting I have ever done has been at a range, but I’m a good shot, and as long as I can calm my fear enough to hold steady, I won’t miss. Leaning against the door for a moment, I take another breath, then grip the handle and turn.
Aiming my gun with one hand and still holding my phone with the other, I make my way across the landing and throw open the guest room door, performing the same boogie man checks as in my room before doing the same with the linen closet and bathroom, and then heading for the stairs.
I slowly make my way into the kitchen, then the dining room, checking the back door, which is still locked, and then the living room and front door, still locked.
All the windows are closed, and there’s nobody here. Without warning, I fall to my knees and gasp for breath. He’s not here. There’s nobody here. I left a window open. I must have. I’m so tired, so fucking exhausted, that I was careless, and the realization breaks me. He could have got in. He could have done anything to me all because I can’t get my shit together.
A knock on the door startles me, and I shriek, falling back onto my ass on the hard floor before pointing my weapon at the door as tears well in my eyes.
‘Bree, open up,’ Arlo’s voice has a sob bursting out of me, and I push myself up to standing, then make my way to the door and open it, immediately wrapping myself around him as relief rushes out of me and he holds me tight. ‘I heard noises, so I came around and saw you through the window. What happened?’
Thank God for these old houses and their paper-thin walls. I shake my head and push away, heading for the sofa and slumping down, bringing my knees up and making myself small. Arlo joins me, sitting at the other end.
‘Bree?’ he pushes gently.
‘I left a window open,’ I admit, and his eyebrows knit together. ‘I know I’m an idiot. You don’t have to tell me. I just, I could swear I checked them all.’
He doesn’t say anything, and I wait for the verbal ass-kicking at my being so irresponsible, but it doesn’t come.
‘You checked the whole house?’
‘Yeah.’ I nod, ‘everything else is closed, nothing out of place, nothing else open.’
‘Which window?’
‘My bedroom.’
He inhales, then stands and locks the front door before heading upstairs.
‘Where are you going?’
‘Stay there.’
I do as I’m told, too tired to fight, a migraine setting in, so I lower my forehead to my knees and let the tears come.
When Arlo comes back down, I’m halfway asleep, and he wakes me with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
‘Give me the gun and go to bed, pix,’ he says softly as I look up at him. ‘You’re safe. Get some sleep.’
Despite his soft words, there’s still an edge to his tone that makes me anxious, but I can’t unpick it right now, and I can’t fight with him on it. Instead, I stand and make my way upstairs. Finding the window closed, the bedsheets pulled back neatly, and the bedside table lamp turned on, once more, my heart flutters for my fake boyfriend as I put down my cell phone and lay down, my eyes closing almost the second my head touches the pillow.