10. Naomi
NAOMI
I’ve been staying at Wyatt’s house every night for the last several weeks but I try to have breakfast with my mom and Casey at least two or three times a week.
This morning started off great with Wyatt kissing me awake but things started going downhill from there. Before could go any further, the phone rang. Evidently, someone broke into The Sterling Rope during the early morning hours and Roman called Wyatt in to figure it out.
So here I am trying to focus on the little things this morning, like the way the sun shines through my mom’s kitchen window or the fact that I finally got the goddamn coffee maker to work on the first try.
There’s comfort in the minor victories. My mom is still in her room prepping for a real estate showing, so it’s just me and Casey in the kitchen.
She’s got a textbook open beside her bowl of cereal, the spoon halfway to her mouth as she halfheartedly reads the same page over and over.
“How has your first week of classes been so far.” I was received when she decided to attend the Silver Spoon Falls Community College until she figures out what she wants to major in.
Casey pretty much ignores my question as she keeps glancing at her phone between bites.
I notice the screen lighting up with a series of angry-red notifications.
I try not to look, but I can see the tension in her jaw and the barely-contained tremor in her fingers as she sets the spoon down.
My heart drops and I know this has to be about fucking Stellan.
Everything has been going great late except dealing with Casey’s crazy ex-boyfriend.
The little asshole has been hitting the bottle pretty hard and making a nuisance of himself. A first we thought he’d get tired of the game and give up but so far he isn’t going away.
“You want some coffee?” I offer, standing at the counter and trying to channel the world’s best big sister.
She shakes her head, not looking up from the phone. “I’ve already had a cup.” Her voice is small, clipped, and nothing like the bratty little sister who used to sing along with pop music at full volume. I instantly know something really bad is happening here.
I’m pouring my cup of black gold when the world shatters.
There’s a heavy, insistent pounding on the front door that makes my heart do a backflip into my stomach. Casey goes white as a sheet and I instantly know it’s Stellan.
Casey goes rigid. Her fork clatters onto the table, egg forgotten. She looks at me with the wild, desperate eyes of a cornered animal. “Don’t open it,” she says. “Please. He’s acting nuts.”
I shake my head. “I’m not an idiot.” But I am an older sister, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting him scare us in our own home. I move to the hallway, careful to keep my body between Casey and the door.
The pounding comes again, louder, more frantic. “Casey!” he yells, his voice muffled through the door but still sharp enough to spike my blood pressure. “I just want to talk! Let me in!”
There’s a crash upstairs, and my mom’s bedroom door flies open. She’s out in the hall before I can blink, robe half-tied, eyes already narrowed to weaponized slits.
“Stay in the kitchen,” she snaps at Casey. “Naomi, get my phone.” She doesn’t slow down; she walks straight up to the door and stands there, every inch the warrior mom, refusing to flinch.
I grab her phone off the counter with shaking hands, dial 911, and speak in a voice I barely recognize. “There’s a man at our door. Stellan Mintz. He’s harassing my sister.” I rattle off the address from muscle memory.
The operator asks if he’s violent. I hesitate, then say, “I’m not sure.”
Outside, Stellan’s still shouting. “I know you’re in there! Just open up! Casey, come out! We need to talk!” He sounds more unhinged than ever, the words slurring together in a way that makes my skin crawl.
My mom glances at me as she screams through the door. “You’re not welcome here, Stellan. Go home.”
The handle jiggles as he tries to force the door. My mother grabs a chair from the dining room and shoves it under the door handle just in case.
I glance out the rectangular window on the side of the door and get a look at him through the frosted glass.
My stomach clenches when I see his hair sticking up on end.
He’s got dark circles around his bloodshot eyes.
There’s something wild and glassy about his stare, the kind of look you see on mugshots or the evening news.
“Casey! Casey, please! I just want to talk!” He starts banging his head against the door, or maybe just leaning into it with his entire body, but the sound is sickening.
“Go away, I already called the cops!” I shout through the wood.
He laughs. It’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard, cracked and desperate. “You think the sheriff is going to protect you? He’s a joke!”
“Stay away from my daughter,” my mother’s voice is calm, but I can hear the terror underneath.
There’s a moment where the pounding stops. I hold my breath, waiting for the next attack.
Then a shadow moves past the window, and I realize Stellan’s circling the house.
He’s going to the back door, the one we never lock because Silver Spoon Falls isn’t supposed to be like this.
I sprint through the living room, Casey behind me, and throw the bolt just as his fist hits the glass.
The impact rattles the frame, and for a second I think the whole thing’s coming off the hinges.
I hear a siren in the distance, the slow, deliberate wail of a small-town cop car. Stellan hears it, too. He starts to back away, but not before he catches my eye through the glass. He grins, lips pulled back in a snarl.
“This isn’t over, Casey!” he howls, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “I’ll find you! You can’t hide forever!”
He turns and books it through our backyard with his boots slipping on the dew-wet grass.
The police cruiser screeches to a halt in front of the house. Sheriff Armstrong gets out, face set in stone. He’s a big man, but today he looks tired, like he’s already had enough bullshit for one lifetime. He comes up the walk, radio in one hand, the other resting on his hip.
“Everyone all right?” he asks, scanning us one by one.
I nod, but Casey’s shaking so hard her teeth are chattering.
“He tried to break in,” my mother says. “We held the door, but he almost got inside.”
Armstrong nods grimly. “He’s been on my radar since the incident at graduation. You’re not the only ones he’s bothering.” He takes a notepad from his breast pocket. “Mind if I ask a few questions?”
We answer all the Sheriff’s questions. Casey stays mostly silent except to confirm that yes, she used to date him, and yes, he’s been texting non-stop since she dumped him.
“He’s obsessed with her,” I say, unable to keep the venom out of my voice. “He acts like she owes him something, like she’s property.”
Armstrong scribbles notes, then looks up. “I’ll have my deputies keep an eye on the little shit. In the meantime, stop by the courthouse and file a restraining order.”
“He tried to break down the door,” I point out.
He nods, tired. “Have you told Wyatt about it?” he asks and I realize the Silver Spoon Falls Grapevine has been busy.
“He knows about it.” Mostly, I’ve been downplaying how bad it’s gotten because I didn’t want to drag Wyatt into the situation.
Casey finally speaks, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s going to hurt someone. I know it.”
Armstrong’s eyes soften, just a little. “We’ll keep an extra unit nearby tonight. If he comes back, call me on my cell.” He tears off the number and hands it to my mom.
He promises to patrol the neighborhood, then leaves us standing on the porch as he pulls away.
That night, I unfold the entire story to Wyatt, revealing the unsettling episode of Stellan's menacing behavior. His anger flares, eyes narrowing like a storm brewing as he processes the threat against us. “Don’t ever keep something like this from me,” he growls, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through the room.
His lips trail a fervent path down my body, each kiss igniting a fire on my skin.
“It’s my job to keep you and our family safe, and I can’t do that if I don’t know about threats,” he insists, the determination in his voice as solid as steel.
As he devours my pussy, I find myself whispering all kinds of promises, my words a passionate pledge to keep him informed, no matter the circumstances.