14. Violet
VIOLET
The morning grass is damp with dew, the air still cool despite the rising sun.
My boots are soundless as I slip between the pines before Drew steps out of the house.
The back deck sits just high enough that I have a clear line of sight through the slats of the railing. The early morning light filters through the trees, soft and golden, catching on the rim of his coffee mug as he leans against the wood.
The door opens, and there he is. Casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
The sight shouldn’t make my mouth water like this, but damn. The man looks fine as hell.
He’s barefoot. A mug in one hand, his phone in the other.
He looks… thoughtful.
I settle deeper behind the pines, adjusting my position slightly so the branches don’t scratch against my cheek. The ground is damp beneath me, but Drew is worth the discomfort.
Drew lifts the mug to his lips, staring out toward the woods like he’s searching for something.
“Oh, fuck it,” he murmurs.
My brows lift.
He sets the mug on the railing, his fingers moving over his phone. I lean forward slightly, being careful not to disturb the shrubs around me.
“Hi,” he says, pacing across the deck. “I saw the sign in front of the house on 291 Old Mill Road.”
Interesting.
I’ve walked past that place several times during my walks through Hollow Creek. Before I reintroduced myself to Drew.
The small ranch house is tucked back just enough from the road to feel separate without being isolated.
It needs work.
The yard is overgrown, the shutters crooked.
But it has potential.
“Yeah,” he continues, running a hand through his hair. “I’d like to make an appointment to see it.”
My lips curl into a small smile. You want something you can fix. Something that’s yours.
I shift slightly, listening closer.
“Six p.m. tonight is perfect.”
My lips curve faintly. That works for me, too.
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
He ends the call, lowering his phone slowly.
A subtle smile curves his lips.
Something in my chest tightens.
He looks… lighter. Hopeful. Like he’s finally letting himself want something.
I watch him for another minute, memorizing the way that expression settles on him like it belongs there. Like it should have always been there.
When he goes inside, I wait a few minutes to make sure the coast is clear.
Then I ease back, careful not to disturb anything as I retreat.
I already know where I’m going next.
I circle the block twice before parking three houses down beneath a line of low-hanging trees.
It'll do.
I kill the engine and sit there for a moment, watching the house.
With some TLC, it will be perfect.
I step out, keeping my movements casual, like I belong here. Like I’m just another passerby walking through the neighborhood.
No one looks twice.
I exhale a sigh of relief.
I make a slow pass down the sidewalk, tracking every detail of the property. The yard needs mowing. The shrubs need trimming. One of the shutters hangs slightly lower than the others. But all of it is fixable.
Making sure no one sees me, I move around the house, heading to the back. A weathered deck in need of staining. Dirty sliding glass doors in need of a good cleaning.
I walk up to them and cup my hands, peering inside. Even though it’s like looking through a rain-streaked window, I can see enough. It offers the perfect view of the kitchen and the living room.
I try to open the doors, but they’re locked.
Bending slightly, I examine it. The lock doesn’t look hard to pick. I just don’t have anything with me to do it right now.
I step back, and that’s when I spot the old, metal bulkhead doors. They’re slightly rusted along the edges. One side doesn’t sit flush against the frame.
Basement access.
I file that away and keep walking.
I round the corner and circle the house, getting a good look at it before returning to my motorcycle.
Yes. That’ll do.
I’m back before six, driving my Mercedes. I park in the same spot I did earlier, which gives me a clear line of sight of the ranch house.
Even though I’m in a different car, I still did my best to hide my identity. My baseball cap is pulled low, hiding my features. My hair is tucked into a loose ponytail. Oversized glasses sit perfectly on my nose.
I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
I look unremarkable. Forgettable. Invisible. Exactly how I need to be.
I settle into the seat, one hand resting lightly on the steering wheel, the other wrapped around a bottle of water as I watch the house.
A familiar Volvo pulls up at 5:57 p.m.
My lips curve. Of course. His watch is three minutes fast.
My attention sharpens, studying him as he steps out of his car.
God, he looks good.
He’s wearing a pair of dark jeans that are fitted just enough to show the lines of his body without trying too hard. The simple polo shirt reveals his strong forearms and a hint of his biceps. His hair is slightly disheveled, like he’s been running his hands through it.
Although his look is casual and simple, he makes it look effortlessly sexy.
My grip tightens on my water bottle as he walks toward the house.
A car pulls up beside his, and a man steps out.
He’s older. The owner, maybe. Or the agent.
They shake hands, and Drew smiles. It’s the same one I saw this morning.
I lean forward slightly, trying to see more of him.
The movement is small, but it’s enough that I somehow bump the damn horn. And it blares. Loud. Sharp. Unmistakable.
Shit.
I duck instantly, smacking my head on the rearview mirror.
“Ow—”
My water bottle tips, soaking my lap.
“Shit.”
I freeze, hunched low in the driver’s seat, heart pounding so hard it feels like it might jump out of my chest.
Please don’t come over here.
But there’s only silence.
I stay exactly where I am, my heart thumping.
I count to twenty before risking a glance.
Drew is stepping inside the house. The other man steps in behind him, already talking.
The front door of the house closes.
I exhale, sitting up.
He didn’t see me. Good. That would have been… inconvenient.
Relief floods through me, sharp and immediate.
My breathing is shallow and controlled, but my pulse refuses to cooperate.
I sink back into the seat, my skin damp from sweat.
I grab a napkin from the glove box to clean up the spilled water. Then glance back toward the house.
It’s silent. Only the chirping of the birds in the trees can be heard through my windows.
Don’t draw any more attention to yourself.
I carefully grab my binoculars from the seat so I can watch Drew move around the house. Lucky for me, no curtains or blinds impede my view.
By the time Drew exits the house with a big smile on his face, I already know he’s going to rent it.
My smile matches his.
I can’t wait to see your new place, Drew.
It’s late when I return to 291 Old Mill Road.
Most normal people are asleep. I’m not one of them.
The street is dark and quiet. The kind that settles into your bones if you let it.
I park in the same spot, slipping out of the car and pulling my hood overhead. I grab my tool bag, then silently shut the door.
My footsteps are silent as I make my way around the back of the house.
I stop in front of the bulkhead doors, looking around to make sure I’m alone. Then I crouch, my fingers brushing the edge of the metal.
It’s loose.
Not broken, just neglected.
Perfect.
I pull the small pry bar from my bag and slide it carefully beneath the edge, applying just enough pressure.
The door gives with a faint creak that splits the silence.
I pause, my ears straining.
Nothing but silence.
Good.
Slowly, carefully, I lift the door just enough to slip inside, then lower it back into place.
Darkness wraps around me instantly.
I click on my flashlight, the toolbag in my other hand.
The beam cuts through dust and shadows, revealing concrete floors and unfinished walls. A few old paint cans sit near the corner. A shelf leans slightly to the left.
I take a step forward, then another, surveying the basement.
It’s solid. No cracks that I see.
He’ll like that.
The basement opens up slightly toward the back with enough room for storage. I can imagine boxes and totes neatly organized down here.
My light sweeps up, checking out the narrow, wooden stairs. They creak faintly as I test the first step. Not ideal. But fixable.
I move slowly, deliberately, mapping the space as I go.
I climb the stairs, pushing the door open just enough to slip through.
The main floor is still and quiet.
My flashlight glides across the walls, the empty rooms, the faint outlines where furniture used to sit.
The kitchen is small but functional.
Drew will love fixing it.
I move through the living room, keeping the light low. I pause near the front window. It’s dirty.
I step closer, dragging my finger through the dust and grime—a small heart taking shape beneath my touch. It’s just large enough to be noticed by him.
The streetlight outside casts a soft glow through the glass, illuminating the particles in the air. It’s quiet. Peaceful.
My chest tightens again, but this time it’s different.
This could work.
I move down the short hallway, pushing open the first door, revealing a decent-sized bathroom.
The second door reveals the master bedroom.
I slowly step inside.
My flashlight drifts across the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.
The closet is bigger than I expected. I’m already deciding which side will be mine.
My gaze moves to the window. It has potential. A lot of it.
I turn around and step out, silently closing the door behind me.
My fingers brush lightly against the wall as I turn, taking in the room again from a different angle.
I nod. It passes my inspection.
I step back into the hallway, flicking my light off for a moment, letting the darkness settle around me. I soak in the quiet, letting my eyes adjust.
This is perfect.
I reach out, adjusting one of the crooked vent covers along the wall, straightening it without thinking.
That’s better.
Then I head back the way I came, retracing my steps carefully. Down the stairs. Across the basement. Through the bulkhead door.
The night air greets me again, cool and sharp.
I lower the door into place, pressing it just enough for it to sit like it did before. Undisturbed. Unnoticed. Just the way he likes things.
As I make my way back to the car, my mind is already racing, making plans.
My lips curve as the engine comes to life.
Everything is falling into place.
Exactly as planned.