Chapter 38
After work, I head back to my house to get my mail.
It’s been a few days, and I need some fresh clothes to take to Logan’s.
He keeps encouraging me to leave things at his house; at this rate, my name will be on the deed by fall.
It’s like he’s got some covert operation to move me into his loft, one laundry load at a time.
It’s great he wants me closer, especially because it makes me feel safe with him around.
I sort through the ads, including offers for window replacement and blacktop sealing—two things I could probably use but can’t afford—while ambling up my driveway from the mailbox.
After entering through the back door, I step into the kitchen, standing over the garbage can, dropping the junk mail into the recycling as I sift through each piece.
A couple are things I need to keep, but since all my bills are paperless, it’s mostly junk.
At the bottom of the pile is a manila envelope with my name on it and no return address. It’s thick.
I grab my phone and consider calling Logan but shake my head and undo the metal tab on the back, holding my breath and shaking out the contents.
There’s another envelope inside with a message scrawled on the outside.
These are better than selfies, don’t you think?
I open it up.
Photos. Of us.
These aren’t from last night, they’re from before: the night I undressed for him next to his easel. The night we were covered in paint and having sex. Wrapped up in each other. The stack slips from my fingers, and they flutter to the floor like confetti.
We don’t even look far away, they’re zoomed in. As if they were taken right outside the window, which makes no sense, since he lives on the top floor.
With trembling hands, I clutch my phone and call him. He answers on the first ring. I open my mouth to tell him about the pictures, but only a sob escapes.
“What happened?” I can’t stop.
“Kelly, are you at your house right now?”
I nod, but he can’t see that. My breath stutters as I try to catch my breath. “Uh-huh.”
Last night was everything. It was perfect. My life was perfect.
Today was spent without a thought regarding the stalker. Even Thor commented on how quiet I was.
“Junior, you’ve barely said two words all day. I’d be worried about you if it weren’t for how fucking smiley you are.”
I laughed in response. Of course I did, I spent most of the hours dreaming about a future with Logan and what that might look like. Not just us, but the shop, owning it together as we grow old—and now that peace has been obliterated.
The night captured in these photos was special to me, the things he said to me were meaningful and sacred . . . but we weren’t alone. It wasn’t just an intimate moment between us; someone was lurking. Watching and snapping photos of us while we were too wrapped up in each other to notice.
“I’m on my way,” he says. “Take a deep breath. Tell me what happened.”
Odin bounds inside the house, and Logan is barely through the doorway before I’m crashing into him.
He swallows me up in his big arms and tucks me into his chest where I fill my lungs with his scent.
He runs his fingers over my hair, pulling a couple wild strands from the messy bun piled on top of my head.
I exhale for what feels like the first time since opening that envelope.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers.
I withdraw from his embrace, picking up the stack of photos I collected off the floor and hand them to him.
His jaw tenses with every image he flips through.
There’s a faint click as the bone pops, and I worry that if he applies any more pressure, he might fracture a molar.
His temples flush. I’ve never seen him like this.
“They’re really clear. I can’t figure out how they took them, they’re zoomed in—”
“They’re from a drone,” he says, dropping the photos on the counter and grabbing his phone.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m having Casper go to my place to sweep for bugs, cameras, anything that might be watching.”
A tremor rolls up my spine, making my shoulders shiver. The possibility of more devices has me sick to my stomach.
“Then he’s going to do the same thing here. For now, I want you to get your things. Whatever you need. You’re going to be staying with me.”
Odin leans against my leg.
“Hey, Odie,” I croon, crouching down, wrapping my arms around him and squeezing. He rests his chin on me, almost hugging me back. “Oh, I have something for you . . . Just in case you forgot who your favorite person was.”
I turn around and open the fridge door, then remove the dog-bone-shaped container and peel off the lid. He sniffs around the dish before gingerly taking bites of the peanut butter dog treats we made the night I attempted to stay home alone.
“I’m supposed to have dinner with my neighbor, Herb—”
“Kelly,” he cautions, exasperated. “I’m not arguing about this.”
I open my mouth and close it again, knowing it’s the right move. “I’ll reschedule the dinner,” I say, standing again.
Logan hauls me into his chest, and I melt into the safety of his arms. His hand slides up to the back of my neck; he squeezes, then works his thumb into my shoulders where I’m carrying too much tension. “It’s going to be okay.”
He utters the words low and certain, as if he already knows the outcome of this situation and is sure of fixing it.
He’s protecting me in a way that feels like possession.
The part of me that wants to cling to fear tells me it’s hopeless—but I trust Logan because Logan doesn’t gamble with what’s his.