Chapter 13 - June
June
After work, I head home and enter my apartment armed with a can of pepper spray clutched tight in my hand. Anything that moves is getting a full blast.
A thorough investigation later, I don’t find any sick bastards lying in wait to do something evil. All windows are closed and locked too.
Fear leaves my body on a deep exhale. Not all of it. Malcolm said he won’t be able to make it back until tonight. I’ll relax once he’s here.
I take the vacuum into the spare room and give it a quick run, then move the storage bins of shoes and clothes into my room. I return to the room, looking around at the empty beige walls and parquet flooring.
It used to thrive with life and colour when Penny lived here. She hung up gorgeous artwork she painted herself, and my favourite was a vivid, detailed one of Medusa.
She also liked horror-themed stuff too. I definitely don’t miss her freaky wooden cyclops mask she bought at a pop-up Halloween store.
It was easy living with Penny. Our personalities clicked despite our different interests and tastes. Disagreements were rare and quickly resolved.
Would it be easy living with Malcolm too? I know what it’s like living with men since I grew up around Dad and Nate, but this will be my first time living with one by myself.
A man who makes me warm when he calls me sweetheart, and who entered my dreams last night and growled that he wanted to fuck me. And I get tingly when I think about that dream even though it’s very, very wrong.
I take a deep breath. Instead of letting my mind play in the gutter, I should be thinking about where Malcolm is going to sleep.
He won’t have a bed yet, so he’ll have to lie on the floor again. That sucks. He was rolling his shoulder as he drove me to work this morning. When I asked him what was wrong, he said, “I’m an old man, and old men shouldn’t sleep on floors.”
Maybe I’ll let him sleep in my bed until he gets his own, and I’ll take the loveseat. Though, my bed is a queen. There would be more than enough space for the both of us—
My phone rings, blocking another descent into wrong thoughts. I hurry to get my phone, guilt making me pause at Mom’s name on the call display. Nervous, I answer.
“Baby, how are you? Mal told me about the intruder!”
Tension leaves my body. Her mother’s intuition hadn’t sensed that her daughter’s morals were in peril after all.
Shortly after the call with Mom ends, my phone pings twice. The texts are from an unfamiliar number, but the sender’s identity is obvious.
Your new man thinks he’s a tough guy.
He’ll be sorry when he finds out that you’re a heartless bitch.
My first instinct is to delete Tyler’s new message chain. I pause with my thumb hovering over the trashcan icon.
When I told the police last night about Tyler’s unwanted texts, they asked me for proof, and I didn’t have any because I’d deleted them. They instructed me to keep them from now on just in case they were useful for the investigation.
What new man?
Who could he possibly—
Oh. He means Malcolm.
Tyler must have assumed we’re dating because Malcolm protected me from him at Daphne’s party.
This is the first time he’s sent me such a mean text. Maybe the reason he’s been so persistent was because he thought I was available. Now that he believes I’m with someone else, he’s like the fox that calls the grapes sour because it can’t reach them.
It’s wrong to pretend Malcolm is my boyfriend, but if that’s what it takes to finally make Tyler back off, then good. Let him continue to believe that.
Come to think of it, I might sell the lie even harder by posting a picture of me and Malcolm celebrating his move-in on my feed. I will have to stop my family from seeing it so they don’t ruin the facade.
Tyler will think “my boyfriend” has moved in with me and that our relationship is serious. Hopefully, that’ll crush any remaining hope in his heart we’ll ever get back together.
Pleased with my plan, I lock my phone and head to my bedroom to change out of my work clothes.
* * *
Malcolm shows up just before nine, his arms laden with various bags: two large duffel bags, a reusable one from a department store, and a paper one emanating a delicious scent. He hands the last one to me.
“I hope you like green curry.”
“I’ve never had it before.” I open the bag and inhale the contents. “If it tastes as good as it smells, there won’t be a problem.”
I carry the food to the kitchen while he takes his bags to the spare room. He returns with just the reusable one, holding it open for me to peer inside. It contains a lock kit and a security camera.
“We’ll have to check in with your landlord about installing these and adding my name to the lease.”
A warm feeling goes through me. The list of Malcolm’s admirable traits just keeps growing. Handy, strong, brave, protective, caring, thoughtful. And that’s without adding attractive too.
Because of my dad’s disappointing behaviour, I’ve always believed there’s no such thing as the perfect guy, but Malcolm is pretty close. Some lucky woman will snap him up some day. I’m already pissed off at this unknown person.
I nod. “I’ll text him. I’m not sure how it’ll go, though. Mr. Wolsey is unpredictable when it comes to changing things. The tenant above me said she asked him if she could repaint her kitchen, and he told her no. But he didn’t tell me no when I asked him if I could do it to my bedroom.”
Malcolm furrows his eyebrows.
“Is that the only time he showed you special treatment?”
“I don’t know. I think so? Oh, well, I heard he gets aggressive with some of the other tenants if they’re even a day late on rent. But there’s been a couple of times I forgot to send the transfer on time, and he didn’t seem to mind.” When his frown persists, I prompt him. “What?”
“Just thinking I’d like to meet Wolsey face to face.” He sets the bag down beside the utility closet door and heads into the kitchen. “Anyway, let’s eat. I’m starving.”
We sit at the dining table and enjoy our green curry with the cheap wine I bought to celebrate his move-in. I tell him what Penny said about Kevin, and he backs up my suspicions, especially when I mention seeing Kevin in the park.
“How long were you there before he showed up?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Maybe ten minutes? I had already finished my lunch.” I sip some of my wine. “It’s hard to say if he was following me. The drug mart is close to the park and lots of people go there on their breaks.”
“Was it the first time you ever saw him there?” When I nod, his features become unreadable as he takes a moment to reply. “We’ll let the police contact him first. I don’t want to interfere. If they’re taking too long, I’ll have a chat with Kevin myself.”
Judging by the glint in his eyes, I have a feeling that if or when Malcolm talks to Kevin, he might not only use his words. I consider telling him about the texts Tyler sent too, but I don’t bother. I’m tired of talking about the negative parts of my day.
We move on to lighter conversation about the housing development he’s helping to build. His presence and deep voice fills the space. It feels so natural and calming.
I hadn’t realized I’ve been starved for company since Penny left until now. I soak up the moment, eager to keep it going as we relocate to the loveseat to watch TV. Malcolm barely lasts one episode before he starts yawning.
“I’m beat. I should hit the hay.”
I pout. “But it’s only eleven.”
He gives me an incredulous look.
“Only? I’m usually in bed by nine-thirty. Ten, the latest.”
“That’s so early!” I grin. “Is that a leftover habit from when you were in the army?”
“No, it’s because I’m not a spring chicken like you.”
I let out an amused scoff. “Why do you always act like you’re so old? You’re still in your thirties.”
Oh, the hypocrisy! A few hours ago, I tried to make him sound too old to discourage Penny’s interest.
His teasing smile fades. “Being around you makes me feel old, I guess. I remember when you were little, and now you’re... not. It reminds me of the huge age difference between us.”
“Seventeen years isn’t that huge.” There’s no conviction in my voice. The gap is a valley. He was almost an adult when I was born.
“It’s not small either, Jujube.”
He stretches his arm across the loveseat’s backrest and gives my cheek two affectionate strokes with his knuckles, then pulls his hand away. It’s a quick action, but his touch lingers on my skin, filling my stomach with a fluttery sensation.
“Do you want to sleep in my bed?” I blurt out, my body warmer.
He goes still. “With you?”
I let out a short, nervous laugh. My offer does sound really wrong. I rush to clarify.
“No, I meant a trade! You sleep in my bed, and I sleep on the loveseat until you get your own bed. You won’t have to sleep on the floor and hurt your shoulder again.”
“I’ll be fine. I bought an air mattress today. That’ll do until I get something proper.” He stands. “Speaking of which, I should get the pump started.”
He heads to the spare room. His room, now. I trail after him, leaning against the wall as he gets out the mattress and electric pump. When the bed is fully inflated, I help make it with the spare sheet and pillow I lent him last night.
We stand in silence, staring down at the air mattress, then our gazes meet. I’m conscious we’re alone with a bed at our feet like an open invitation.
Come, both of you.
Lie on me together.
I back away from the bed and its sinful suggestion. I don’t know why my mind keeps coming up with inappropriate thoughts.
I force a smile. “I should—I should go to bed too. Good night.”
He moves closer. “Wait. I meant to ask this morning if you had any more bad dreams last night.”
I had a filthy one starring you.
“Uh… nope. No bad dreams.”
He nods. “Because of the sleeping pill.”
“Yeah, I really needed one—” I tilt my head. “How do you know I took a sleeping pill?”
A beat passes before he responds, his relaxed expression becoming more alert.