36. Presley
Presley
The house is dark when Callie pulls away.
I stand on the porch and watch the taillights disappear between the trees.
For several seconds, I don't move.
I don't unlock the door.
I don't even breathe properly.
I just stand there in my Morticia dress with my stupidly perfect hair beginning to frizz around my face and wonder how the hell I left this house tonight believing I understood my life.
My thoughts keep alternating between two concepts: Hades and the Masked Man.
My brain keeps separating them even though I know better now.
Because that's how I've thought of them for weeks.
Two men.
Two completely different reactions.
One made my pulse race because I wanted him.
The other made my pulse race because I was afraid of him.
Except that isn't even fucking true.
My eyes burn from the tears I refuse to let fall. “Goddammit.”
I shove the key into the lock harder than necessary, turn it, and push the door open.
Penny comes barreling toward me. Her little orange bat sweater is gone, replaced by nothing but an enthusiastic whole-body wiggle as she skids across the floor.
And I almost laugh.
Until she races past me, straight onto the porch, and looks toward the woods. Waiting.
My chest caves in. “No.”
Penny looks back at me. Her ears lower.
Instant guilt joins every other emotion currently clawing through me. “Come here.”
She trots back inside, and I scoop her up. “I'm sorry.”
She licks my chin and stares at me like she knows I’m upset.
I hug her against my chest. Unlike every man in my life, Penny has never lied to me.
Although her judgment regarding strange men is currently under investigation.
I shut and lock the door behind me. Then I double-check it.
My hand remains wrapped around the knob.
Immediately, my thoughts go to Hades telling me to check it.
What else did he see me doing?
My stomach twists. “Fuck.”
I let go.
This is going to make me insane.
I carry Penny into the living room and stop. I stare at the cushion where Hades slept with me on his chest last night. I felt so damn safe in his arms.
My throat tightens.
He knew I'd spent days frightened by someone outside my windows. He knew I checked the locks because of him. He knew someone was stalking me.
And then he sat right there while I relaxed for the first time in days.
Because I trusted him.
My eyes fill with tears. “You fucking asshole.”
Penny squirms.
I set her down before I accidentally squeeze the poor dog to death.
She immediately jumps onto the couch and plops right down on the cushion he slept on.
I turn away and head into the kitchen.
I stare at the coffee mug he used that’s still in the sink. Then at the counter where he leaned this morning, looking completely comfortable in my kitchen.
Like he belonged here.
The thought scared me at first, but it went away.
Because it was Hades.
My gaze shifts toward the hallway. A cold sensation crawls down my spine. I wonder how many times he’s been inside my house without my knowledge.
My mind whirls back to the dream I had the other morning when I imagined someone was inside my bedroom.
Was that only a dream?
My breathing changes.
How would he get inside? I locked the doors.
Suddenly, I hear my grandmother’s voice inside my head.
Remember to push on the back door after you shut and lock it. It doesn’t always latch on the first try.
With steel in my spine, I cross the kitchen and grab the knob. It’s locked.
But then I feel cold air against my hand.
I pull on the knob.
It opens right up.
Fuck.
I close it again, lock it, then push hard until I hear the telltale click.
This time, when I pull on the knob, it stays closed.
Even so, I look around for something—anything—to make sure no one can get inside.
I settle on a dining room chair.
It’s not enough to keep him out, but it’s something.
I move to the counter, put my head in my hands, and close my eyes.
But all I can see is an image of Hades’s face morphing into the Masked Man.
Same hands.
Same eyes.
Same fucking man.
I open my eyes, lift my head, and stare blankly out the window into the dark woods surrounding the house.
“How could you do that to me?”
No one answers.
That's somehow worse.
A hysterical laugh escapes me, ugly and broken. I swipe beneath my eyes.
I'm not crying over him.
Absolutely not.
I’m furious.
And furious people don’t cry.
They plot murder.
Maybe Callie can come back with her SUV.
My phone is still buried in the tiny purse I carried tonight.
I yank it out. No messages.
Good.
Hades listened.
I should be relieved.
Instead, something sharp digs beneath my ribs.
“Oh, fuck off.”
Penny trots into the kitchen and tilts her head.
“Not you.”
My phone stays stubbornly silent.
I hate him.
I hate that he lied.
I hate that he manipulated me.
I hate that he stood there asking me what I thought about the man in the mask when he already knew the answer.
I hate that he made Wilder wear the mask so I would believe the impossible thing standing right in front of me wasn't true.
Most of all, I hate that he let me feel guilty.
That one hurts differently.
I close my eyes, loathing rolling through me. The fucker blindfolded me in the bookstore and fingered me in front of the window above the festival.
Then he texted me afterward, making me feel guilty that I’d just betrayed one man with another.
There weren't two men.
There was only Hades.
The bastard knew it.
And he let me twist myself apart anyway.
My phone nearly slips from my hand. “Fuck you.”
Still no texts or calls from him.
I blow out a breath. I don’t want him to text. I want him to suffer.
Preferably somewhere damp and uncomfortable.
Maybe with mosquitoes.
And poison ivy directly on his dick.
But I keep looking at my phone because my anger doesn't erase everything else.
That's the problem.
If I could take the truth and use it like a giant eraser, this would be easier.
Hades lied. Therefore, every good thing disappears.
Simple. Clean. Done.
Except that's not how it works.
He still stayed when I asked him to. He listened when I talked about Grandma. About my dreams to finish school and become a college professor.
And the bastard gave me a choice. Agency.
He chased me through the woods only after I asked him to. He gave me a safeword.
But the Masked Man—
My chest tightens again.
No. There is no Masked Man.
It was always Hades.
Except when he asked Wilder to wear the mask to manipulate me.
Every single memory of Hades and the Masked Man runs through my head over and over until I want to scream.
I bury my face in my hands. “This is such bullshit.”
I head into the living room and sit on the opposite end of the couch. Penny climbs into my lap. Her paws press into my stomach as she circles twice and settles. I automatically stroke her back.
My gaze drifts to the front window.
There’s no movement.
No figure beyond the glass.
No mask.
I should be relieved.
I told him I’m to leave me alone and he’s doing as I asked.
So why does the emptiness outside feel different tonight?
I told myself I wanted the woods to be empty.
Tonight they are.
And I hate it.
I hate that I hate it.
And I hate Hades for making me miss being watched.
God, what the hell is wrong with me?
Maybe Gracie knows an exorcist.
Stella probably does.
I pick up my phone again. Hades’s name is at the top of my text messages. Apparently I’m a sadist because I open it and read through our texts.
I exit the messages and check the time. I know it’s late, but my texts and phone calls to Stella have been short lately. I’ve deliberately texted and left voicemails when I knew she’d be in class so I didn’t have to talk to her.
I was too afraid she’d know the truth.
Before I chicken out, I call her and listen to it ring.
“Presley?” Her voice is groggy, like she’s just woken up. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head, tears rolling down my face.
“No. No, I’m not.”
“What’s wrong?” Her voice sounds more alert.
“It’s stupid. I’m not hurt or anything... but my heart’s broken.”
“I’m getting up and making coffee. Tell me everything.”
And I do.
I spill the entire, sordid tale.
And by the time I’m finished, I feel like a terrible friend for avoiding her.
“I knew something was up. I was hoping you’d met a guy and didn’t want to tell me about him until you knew for sure he wasn’t an asshole.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“He is.”
“Why do I hear a ‘but’ in your voice?”
“He went to great lengths for you.”
I’m silent for a few beats.
Her words anger me... but also touch something else inside me.
I straighten my spine. “Doesn’t excuse what he did.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“You sound like you’re on his side.”
“I’m always on your side, babe. Always. But I hear the pain in your voice. You really care for him.”
“I have terrible taste in men.” I look at my long, fake fingernails I put on for the party tonight.
I should take off my costume and burn it.
“Don’t compare him to your shitty sperm donor father who bailed on you when you were a baby. Look at your grandfather. He was an incredible man.”
“Okay, so there’s one decent man in the world.” I roll my eyes. “Yay.”
She laughs. “Did you give him a chance to explain anything to you?”
“Hell no. What’s there to explain?”
“Why he did it.” Her voice is quiet, echoing my thoughts. “Why you?”
God, I hate that truth-bomb.
Even though Hades wears a murderous expression most of the time, he’s hot. Even hotter when he smiles.
But it was the way he was so invested in every word I said.
Everything I did.
And the same with the masked man.
I’ve never had a man so into me before.
“That’s probably why this hurts so bad,” I murmur.
“I’d never tell you what to do, Presley. Only you can decide what’s right for you and your life. I mean, I can cast a spell on him if you want. Maybe give him poison ivy on his dick or something.”
A laugh comes out of me. We’re so much alike.
“See. You feel a tiny bit better, don’t you?”
“Slightly. Very slight.”
“Progress.” I can hear the smile in her voice.
“I always thought I liked you cause you were weird.” I smile. “Turns out I like your serious, logical side, too.”
She gasps. “Don’t tell anyone about that! Ever!”
I giggle.
“See. I knew I’d get you to laugh.”
“Thanks, Stella.”
“Anytime, Presley. Now, go take a nice, long bath and get some sleep. Give yourself time. And grace. You don’t need to make any decisions now.”
I nod. “I already made one. I want you to curse him and Callie to run him over.”
“Wow! I don’t know who Callie is, but offering to run over a man who hurt my friend makes me like her already.”
“She also gave me some advice. ‘Cry if you must. Then put on a sexy outfit, some makeup, and show the bastard what he’s missing.’”
“I like it. That’s tomorrow’s agenda. Tonight it’s bath and sleep. Maybe dream of some curses.”
Exhaustion hits me hard. “Thanks for listening.”
“Always, babe. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.”
I stand abruptly. Penny slides from my lap and gives me an offended look.
“I need out of this dress. Then a hot bath and some sleep.”
Penny yawns in agreement.
She follows me upstairs, lying on the bathroom rug while I fill the tub.
When I walk out and begin peeling off my costume, I think about the book I recommended to him. I remember internally screaming at the heroine, Girl, he knows your bedroom. How are you not putting this together?
Apparently fictional women aren't the only dumbasses in love.
My breath catches. Love.
“No.”
I’m not using that word tonight.
I toss the costume onto the bed with significantly less respect than it deserves.
Then I grab my pajamas and stomp into the bathroom. Penny side-eyes me for waking her.
No more thinking of Hades.
Or Masked Man.
Or anything.
By the time I’m finished with my bath, it’s past midnight.
Halloween is officially over.
That feels appropriate.
The mask came off.
I take Penny outside, deliberately refraining from looking at the woods.
When she trots back inside, I follow, closing and locking the door behind me.
But I can’t resist one peek out the window.
There’s no one there.
As I move through the downstairs turning off lights, I look out every window.
Nothing.
My heart sinks.
I blow out a breath, telling myself I should finally feel free.
Instead, I look toward the dark window and realize the truth I hate most.
I still want him to be there.