STEPHANIE
SIX
A bouquet of flowers can mean many things. An apology. A celebration. A warning. Or worse, all three.
Samuel Davis is a golden retriever. Not in the truest sense, since he’s human, but he’s like a happy sunshine puppy with boundless energy and unending optimism, and he’s fast become a good friend in this small town in Texas.
He throws his head back and laughs at something Amalee whispers in his ear.
She’s a little more prickly, but now that she’s decided I’m not here to steal her man, she’s warming up to me.
Truth is, I’m not interested in any man.
I’m settling into a life beyond the confines of an institution which gave me the space and the tools to heal but sheltered me far too much.
So reentering the real world has been more difficult than I could have predicted.
I’m not the same woman I once was, and while I grieve for the naive girl who saw the world through rose-tinted glasses, I don’t exactly miss her.
That girl not only couldn’t sense danger, she didn’t even recognize it when it came knocking on her door.
My hand tightens around my glass, and I grit my teeth as a bunch of guys wolf-whistle at a stunning girl who saunters past with a coy smile and a wink.
Now that is something I admire. The confidence to manage such attention and not want to crawl out of my skin when it’s given to me.
The charity event was my first big test, and I did better than I predicted, staying until the end and only freaking out in the restroom three times, not thirty.
Small steps, little and often. That’s the motto. Exposure leads my overworked mind to reaffirm that everything is okay and nothing is out to hurt me.
I try and fail to stifle a yawn. Samuel raises a brow as Amalee tucks herself under his arm.
“I think I’m going to head home,” I say as my gaze tracks the shadowed parking lot. I feel watched, and that makes me feel like a self-absorbed walking victim. Nobody is watching me. Why would they be?
“We’ll drop you off,” Samuel answers, causing Amalee to scowl at him.
“I can just grab an Uber.”
They both laugh. Right. No Uber.
“Or call Honor,” I try.
“No need. We were heading out soon anyway. Also, if I let you make your own way home, Honor would have me strung up by my balls so fast.”
Fair point. No one messes with the newest Mrs. Alderidge.
I grab my purse and slide out of the booth we’ve been sitting at for the last hour.
Earlier there were a few other people in their social circle with us, relaxing in each other’s company.
It was nice listening to them poke at each other about their shared history, but I’ve never felt more untethered or lost among a group of people who’ve done nothing but be nice to me.
I think maybe I’m broken. I’m no longer teetering on the edge. I want to live; I just don’t know how. The institute gave me the will, but not the tools.
We slide into Samuel’s truck with Amalee in the center and me on the edge. How apt. Not that I have designs on another woman’s man. Even if I could open myself to loving again, I wouldn’t look at a taken man. I have enough complications without that in the mix.
Doesn’t stop my stomach from free-falling every time I see James. He’s off-limits for a whole other reason, the main one being that he’s the brother of my soon to be sister-in-law.
Soon as in when my idiot brother persuades her to say yes.
Could it be that I’m romanticizing the man who saved my life? Potentially. But feelings don’t always make sense.
Country music thrums around us as Samuel shows he is not a talented singer, but it makes the girl with hearts in her eyes giggle, and I think that’s the point.
“Are you helping Honor with the foundation tomorrow?” Amalee asks as we chug on down the road.
“Yes, we’re scouting out a few new safe houses and going through some applications for funding to help more established ones.”
The scale of domestic violence still shocks me. Every day we review applications from women desperate for help, and every day I find myself wondering how the system keeps failing them.
“Sounds dull,” Amalee replies with a groan.
Of course it sounds dull to the town’s prom queen who’s still living her sheltered princess life.
“It’s rewarding, not dull.”
“Important too,” Samuel reminds his girl, who seems to have lost the whole point of the foundation, if she ever had a grasp of it in the first place.
“Ugh, I thought it would be more balls and gowns than paperwork and meetings,” Amalee grumbles. “It’s why I’m so glad you could take over, because you’re more suited to it.”
I think she just both complimented and insulted me all in one breath. Little does she know I was born into that life, and it is not the glamorous one she envisions.
“I love all aspects of the work, so thank you for stepping aside to make space for me.”
She pats my arm. “You’re most welcome.”
Save me now.
Samuel shakes his head as he pulls up to the grand house Honor and Fox inhabit.
It used to be his grandmother, Helen Alderidge’s, who still keeps a room here but is more often than not jet-setting around the world and having so much fun in her older years it puts the rest of us with more youth to shame.
She’s a formidable woman whom I’ve grown to admire the few times I’ve met her.
Samuel unclips his seat belt, and before I can protest, opens my door for me and helps me out of the truck.
“I can take it from here, big guy,” I grumble.
He looks at the lit front door of the main house and back at me with a frown. “But Fox and Honor aren’t home yet.”
I huff and start marching up the drive. “Goodnight to you both. Thanks for the company. I have a date with PJs and a slobbering Great Dane.”
“Fine,” Samuel mutters, closing the door and getting into the truck. He doesn’t pull away until I’m literally standing under the porch light and waving at him.
“Alone at last,” I whisper as I open my purse and search for the key. How is it possible to have a purse that struggles to fit much more than a phone, a set of keys, and a lipstick, yet still hides shit? It’s a mystery of the universe.
My fingers brush against metal, and I pull the key out with a victory fist pump.
My world plunges into darkness, and I tilt my head to the light above me that has died at the worst possible moment.
Now not only can I not see the door I’m unfamiliar with, but I’m out here alone.
Oh, how I regret shooing Samuel away. My feminine independence needs to pick better times to assert itself.
I run my fingers over the door, trying to locate the metal disk and feeling like one of those heroines in a horror movie who is about to get slaughtered before the opening credits.
“Stupid. So freaking stupid,” I mutter to myself. Because there is no one here. All bulbs pop. It’s normal, if not ill-timed.
The hairs on my nape prickle with awareness. It’s just my subconscious playing tricks. My hand shakes as I locate the hole, but I can’t steady myself to put the damn key in it.
“Breathe,” I whisper. “Come on, Stephanie. Nobody is out to hurt you. It’s all in your head.”
The chill sweeps down my arms. It’s nine p.m. Cool air is normal. An average evening always drops in temperature. It doesn’t mean anything nefarious.
I do the one thing I scream at the idiots in horror movies for doing: I look over my shoulder and waste precious seconds scanning the shadows of the yard for movement. Nothing. No one. Nada.
I hate my mind.
I roll my shoulders, close my eyes, and grip the key, forcing myself to calm.
My heart still feels like it’s beating in my throat, but my arm stops shaking long enough for me to slide the key inside the lock and twist. For a heart-stopping moment, I think the door isn’t about to open, that I’ve fallen into the set of said horror movie and the masked creature is waiting for me on the other side.
The lock slides free, and the door swings open.
A shadow shifts in the dark house, a tapping sound reaches me, and I take a step back, ready to flee.
My mouth opens to scream, and then a beast bounds toward me and knocks me onto my ass.
I wince as my tailbone takes a hit, and an enormous hot tongue snakes up my face.
I groan and push his face away. The alarm signaling the open door begins to beep its countdown. “Dude, while I’m relieved you aren’t a soul-eating monster, we discussed the no kisses on the face situation on account of the way you clean your balls with that same tongue.”
Duke huffs as if he’s offended, but we both know I speak the truth.
The light overhead flickers on, making us both look up.
That’s odd. The feeling of someone watching me intensifies, not lessens.
I climb to my feet, step through the door, and usher Duke inside the house.
With a last scan over the yard, I close and bolt the door with a sigh of relief.
Duke would go insane if anyone were in here that he didn’t know.
I shake my head at myself. No one is watching me. Why would they be? I’ve barely begun to live after my time in the institute. I’ve resisted the urge to look up the guys who hurt me, but my brother told me he’s either taken care of them or has eyes on them.
I’m sure in the grand scheme of shit they’ve done wrong in their pretentious lives, the night they took something from me is a mere drop in the ocean. While they might haunt my nightmares, I doubt I even register as someone they ever met, never mind raped.
I tap the code into the keypad and flick on the house lights as I breeze through the rooms, stopping at the note tacked to the refrigerator.
Stephanie, homemade meatballs and pasta are in the fridge for you. Gelato in the freezer. We’ll be home by midnight.
Honor x
Because she’s Cinderella.
Fox
They are so freaking adorable. Duke pads around the kitchen, watching me put the delicious home-cooked goodness in the microwave with eager eyes.
I laugh as I dish up the extra non-onion version made especially for him.
He is the most pampered pooch in Texas and, like most nights, he’ll be keeping me company in the pool house.
“Now it’s time for a little romcom indulgence, Italian deliciousness, and zero clock-watching until your mom and daddy are home.”
His tongue lolls out the side of his mouth, and a big string of drool hits the tiles.
Balancing the plate on my hand, I open the rear door, shift past the lit pool that I swim in most days, and arrive at the entrance to the pool house with a screeching halt.
My blood runs cold as my brain processes five thousand possibilities in a single breath, all more terrifying than the last because waiting for me on the ground is a gigantic bouquet of calla lilies.