Chapter 2
Becki
M aybe I should lock myself in the bathroom and call the club.
Fuck, I don’t know if Legend would answer my call.
Instead, I creep toward the window. I don’t turn on the porch light. I want to see without being seen. Not that it matters. I get the feeling whoever’s out there already knows exactly where I am.
I pull the curtain back a hair and squint out at the tree line.
For a moment, it’s just shadows. Dancing branches. Dry leaves rolling down the gravel. A paper plate blowing past the old truck in the yard.
Then… movement.
My heart lurches into my throat.
Something shifts just past the fence line. A figure. Tall. Broad. Standing so still he could be mistaken for one of the gnarled trees if I hadn’t felt him first.
He doesn’t step forward. Doesn’t wave. Doesn’t shout.
He just watches.
A spike of fear slices through my chest, and then melts, quickly, horribly, into something hotter. He’s not wearing a costume, far as I can tell. Just darkness. A silhouette. I can’t see his face, but I swear to God, I can feel him smiling.
I step back, my breath hitching. My nipples pebble under my tank top. My body’s not nearly as scared as my brain is.
And maybe that’s what scares me most.
Because I’ve been followed before. Catcalled. Cornered. Laughed at. Touched without permission. I know what fear feels like.
But this?
This is something else entirely.
This is excitement.
It’s the kind of fear that runs its tongue along your pulse and whispers what if into your ear. It’s the feeling you get right before the roller coaster drops, before the scream escapes.
It’s him.
And it’s not just tonight. This ain’t the first time I’ve had that feeling, that someone’s watching. Especially on Halloween. But it’s the first time, I’ve been sure. The first time I’ve wanted it.
I lean against the wall, forehead pressed to the cool drywall, heart drumming wild in my chest.
“Who are you?” I whisper to no one.
But deep down… I don’t want to know.
I go to the back door, the one with the broken step and the view of the woods. My fingers tremble on the handle.
Do I open it?
Hell no.
But I want to.
I want to open it and step barefoot onto the dirt. I want to see if he’ll come closer. I want to see what kind of monster watches a girl like this, in the dark, on Halloween, in a trailer at the outskirts of town in Crooked Creek Hollow.
And more than that?
I want to know what kind of girl I am, for wanting it back.
Then he’s gone like the wind. Nothing but emptiness.
Slinking back to the couch, I wonder if it’s only my imagination? Am I so heartbroken, my mind is creating a man who actually wants me? One who wants me so much he’d creep outside my trailer, watching me.
Patiently waiting, for what?
Resuming the movie, I ignore the severed head rolling, the dead eyes. I close my eyes and wish I could rewind time.
Back before Legend kissed me like I was the only girl he ever wanted.
Back before he broke my heart all over again for the millionth time.
It’s last Tuesday, a week before Halloween, and the sky’s already bruising purple when I knock on the Lockup’s door.
I’m wearing the dress Legend said he liked, the tight black one with the cherry print. I even curled my hair. I look like a pin-up from the fifties but with sick tattoos and piercings, and nails that could slit throats. Stupid, I know, but I thought… maybe this time.
Maybe our Prez would finally pick me.
Maybe he’d stop pretending he doesn’t feel what I know he feels when he looks at me.
But when the door swings open, it’s not Legend standing there.
It’s her.
Or rather a girl who looks just like her. Yes, she’s identical to Sophie. Pride of Paradise, heiress to Paradise Falls. Legend’s long lost love.
I don’t even wait for this new girl to say anything. I just turn and walk.
Fast.
Like the road might open up and swallow me whole if I let it.
Legend catches up to me in the gravel lot. “Becki…”
“Don’t,” I snap, spinning on him. “Don’t say my name like that. Who’s this new girl? Another one?”
He flinches. “It’s not what you think.”
“It’s exactly what I think.”
“She was in danger… Hannah’s just passing through. We’re not getting a new bunny.”
“I was in danger too! I’ve been in danger since the day your daddy dragged me off that church floor, away from my daddy and made me one of his!” My voice cracks. “Where were you then, huh? Where were you when I needed saving?”
Legend doesn’t answer. His mouth presses into a hard, thin line.
I laugh. Ugly. Broken.
“Right,” I mutter. “Same place you’ve always been, wrapped around some other girl’s finger.”
“Look, Becki. You swore to me your relationship with my dad was legit. I had no reason not to think things weren’t over back then. Put yourself in my shoes.”
“What was I supposed to tell you? Tell you, Legendary Mike, your savior father was a piece of shit… I know, I know. You’ve said it a million times. There’s no future for us when our past is so fucked up.” I storm off, trying not to let him see the tears.
Trying not to let myself see the truth.
He’ll never choose me.
Not really. Not after all our history. Not after he caught me in his father’s bed. Doesn’t matter if I wanted to be there or not. Legend will never let me forget I broke his heart first.
Later that night, I end up behind Heck’s Kitchen, knees tucked under my chin, hiding behind a dumpster like some stray mutt. But I’m in good company.
The mayor of Hell, Mayor McCoy, the golden retriever mix who won our election thanks to write ins is cleaning up the area like a Hoover. Soon, he settles down next to me. My nerves are calming as I stroke his fur, only to be prickled again by a shadow looming.
I jump out of my skin.
“Figured I’d find you here,” a voice says, deep and smooth as good bourbon.
Royal. Of course. I don’t even look at him as I take a breath of relief. “Go away.”
He crouches down beside me anyway, resting his arms on his knees. “Can’t do that, pumpkin. I made a promise to myself a long time ago, don’t let the fire die if I can help it.”
I turn and glare at him. “I’m not some campfire you can poke. And you’re full of shit.”
He grins. “Usually.”
A silence settles between us, thick with old wounds and things we’ve never said. And we’ve always said too much stuff. Royal watches me like he always does, like he sees right through me, through the pretty and the poison and all the cracks in between.
“Why do you do that?” I whisper.
“Do what?”
“Look at me like that. Like I’m something that’ll keep you warm, not something that will scorch you.”
Royal’s smile fades. “’Cause I know the difference.”
I close my eyes. Lean my head back against the brick wall. “I hate her.”
“No, you don’t. Bet you don’t even know her name.”
“Hannah… Okay, fine. I hate Legend.”
“That’s more like it.”
Royal’s so close I can smell him, pine and musty book pages. It makes my throat tight. Makes me want to lean in and let him tell me more lies just to make the pain stop.
But I don’t. I can’t. Never. “You should go,” I whisper.
He tilts his head. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I don’t need a shoulder to cry on. I need a damn lobotomy.”
Royal chuckles under his breath. But then, his voice turns real quiet. “You ever wonder if he’d love you more if you were broken in a different way?”
That gets me. Right in the ribs.
I stare at him. “Every damn day.”
He reaches out like he’s gonna touch me, my face, my hair, I don’t know. But I flinch before he can.
And he pulls back.
The hurt in his dark eyes is soft. Barely there. But I see it.
“Goodnight, Royal,” I say.
And somehow, he understands that’s all I can give him.
A cold shiver dances down my spine as I’m pulled from the memory.
Something’s out there again. Someone.
I pause the movie. The TV casts flickering shadows across the trailer walls, blood-red and bone-white light from the horror movie menu bouncing off the cracked linoleum.
I rise to my feet slowly, bare toes curling on the cold floor.
I creep toward the tiny kitchen window and peek through the yellowed blinds.
The woods press in just past the edge of the yard, trees black and gnarled like claws. And there, just beyond the rusted fire barrel and the clothesline swinging in the breeze, I see it.
The shape.
A man.
Still. Watching.
Heart slamming, I suck in a breath and squeeze the blinds shut.
It’s Halloween time in Hell, Kentucky. The one night crazy feels normal.
Maybe it’s a trick. Maybe the club is fucking with me.
Or maybe it’s a psycho, and I’m being an idiot. Like the girls in horror movies. Horny, lonely girls who trust the wrong man. Girls who ignore the danger. The ones who check the basement.
I’m not sure which possibility scares me more.
I grab the flashlight from under the sink. My fingers shake a little, but not from fear. It’s adrenaline, or maybe something sicker. Something deeper. The truth is, I’m the girl who’d get killed right away.
I crack the door and step onto the porch. The wind carries the scent of wet leaves and wood smoke, maybe garbage burning. Somewhere in the distance, I hear fireworks or maybe gunshots. Around here, it's hard to tell.
“Who's there?” I call, voice shakier than I mean.
I don’t aim to sound scared. Mama always said, if you ain’t scared, nothin’ scary can happen. Not that I should listen to a woman six feet under.
“Hello?” I try again, steadier.
No answer.
I should go back inside. Lock the door. Call someone.
But I don't.
I step off the porch instead, in my bare feet, knowing how stupid it is. How will I be able to run? I guess some part of me wants to be followed. Some part of me wants to be caught.
It’s okay, I tell myself. Mr. Murder Man may not realize the soles of my feet are like leather, and I’ll surprise him.
I head toward the woods, slow and steady, flashlight bouncing off broken branches and beer cans, old tires and sun-bleached deer skulls. The woods aren’t deep, but they’re enough to get lost in if you're not careful.
I hear footsteps behind me.
Not animals.
Boots.
I turn and see him.
Standing ten feet away.
Tall. Wide. Wearing a black hoodie and a full-face horror mask, white with exaggerated features of a ghost, like that one movie. I almost laugh as my heart explodes in my chest.
I should run.
But I don’t.
I lift the flashlight and point it at him. “You think this is funny?”
He doesn’t move.
“What do you want?”
Just stands there, breathing like a monster in a slasher flick.
“What’s my line?” I try, snapping my fingers. “Who is this?” I whisper, thinking of the movie.
Still no answer.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about scary movies?” I say and laugh.
And then I do something really, really stupid.
I lunge forward.
He catches me mid-step.
Arms like steel wrap around my waist, spinning me fast and slamming my back against a tree. Bark digs into my spine. My flashlight clatters to the dirt.
I don’t scream.
I should , but I don’t. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
His body pins mine. He’s hot through the hoodie, bigger than I thought, more muscle than menace, but it’s both. He smells like cedar, weed and engine grease. That tells me absolutely nothing. Could be any man in this fucking town.
His mask hovers inches from my face.
“You scared me,” I breathe, half faking, half admitting to something.
He tilts his head, still silent.
Then he leans in.
He can’t kiss me, not in that mask. But he’s close enough to. And his lower half grinds against me. His cock, the solid rod in his pants, striking just the right spot.
Rough. Raw. Like he’s starved for it.
I gasp against the mask.
And then I kiss him, the mask.
I shouldn’t .
I know that.
But something in me snaps. I grab his hoodie, pull him closer, wrap my thighs around his hips like I’ve done this a hundred times in my dreams. His hand fists in my long hair.
My neck arches. His mask presses into my cheek as his face escapes just a bit.
Has to, I realize, as his wet mouth hits my neck, my throat.
Damn, it’s too dark. Maybe if I hadn’t dropped the flashlight, I could see his face.
I squeeze his biceps. God, he feels familiar. His grip. The way he touches me like he owns every inch.
But that’s impossible.
Legend doesn’t kiss me like this. Not anymore. Not in forever.
I whisper his name, “Legend.”
He lets out a growl that vibrates through my chest. And just as fast as it started, it’s over.
He steps back.
I grab for him but only end up with a handful of fabric.
Gone.
The ghost vanishes into the woods like smoke.
Holding his hoodie, I stumble forward, breathless and shaking. My lips are dry. But my neck and my panties are soaked. My body tingling, I slide on the hoodie.
My knees wobble, and I fall to the forest floor and pick up the flashlight.
Was that real?
I don’t rightly know.
But I want more.