3. Kennedy #2
“Thanks,” I said softly. “I really hope we can.”
His smile lingered for a second longer before he nudged my leg with his foot. “Well, now that we’ve saved your digital soul and solved none of our romantic problems, how about we finally tackle some of those boxes outside?”
I nodded and got to my feet. “I call dibs on not carrying anything super-heavy.”
“No problem. Everything that’s left in the trailer should be easy enough for you to carry. So how about you work on bringing all of that inside while I work on constructing the furniture?” he suggested. “We can stop at twelve for lunch, and I’ll DoorDash whatever you want.”
“Sounds good.”
I headed outside, where the morning sun was already high and warm against my skin. The trailer was still parked next door in the driveway of my childhood home, stuffed to the brim with boxes labeled in thick black Sharpie. I grabbed one and started the short trek back toward the house.
Halfway up the path, a strange sensation prickled over the back of my neck, like someone’s eyes were on me. It was the exact same feeling I had when I left Dr. King’s office yesterday afternoon.
A second later, I caught a flash of movement from the corner of my eye, so I paused mid-step and glanced around.
The street was quiet. Serene, even. Across the road, a woman was raking leaves in her obsessively-manicured front yard, and a little further down, an old man in slippers was wheeling his trash can to the curb.
Neither of them spared me so much as a glance.
All the cars parked on the street appeared to be empty, too.
Still, I couldn’t shake it. I lingered a moment longer, scanning the windows, the cars, the spaces between the trees. But there was nothing.
Get a grip, Kennedy, I told myself. It was probably just a bird flitting around, or the breeze rustling some leaves.
With a deep breath, I turned back to the path, forcing the weird feeling down.
A few hours slipped by in a blur of cardboard and sweat. My arms ached, and the backs of my thighs were burning from the constant up-and-down of the trailer steps, but Dec’s house was finally starting to look less like a shipping container and more like a home.
Right now, he was hunched over a table, piecing it together with the kind of intense focus usually reserved for bomb defusal or IKEA instructions written in Swedish. An unopened bottle of water sat on the floor next to him, seemingly forgotten.
I trudged past him with yet another box in my arms. “Only twenty more to go!” I said as I deposited the box on the floor. “I’ll do some more unpacking once I’ve got them all in here.”
He looked up and gave me a mock salute. “Godspeed, soldier.”
I laughed and headed back outside. Just as I reached the trailer again, a sudden wave of light-headedness hit me. My throat was dry, and my head felt cotton-stuffed.
I really needed some water.
I turned and headed back into the house. Dec was standing now, and he wasn’t working on the table anymore. Instead, he was holding my phone, fingers dragging slowly over the screen. He obviously hadn’t heard me come back in.
I stood there, silent, heart pounding hard. “Uhh… what are you doing?” I finally asked.
He flinched like I’d slapped him. The phone dropped an inch in his hand, but he caught it before it fell. “Shit, you scared me,” he said, trying for a casual laugh. “I thought you headed back out.”
“I did. Then I got thirsty.” I took a step closer, eyes narrowing slightly. “Were you just looking through my phone?”
“Er… sort of. But not exactly.” He set it down and lifted his palms. “It was buzzing, so I looked over and saw that Freya was calling. I figured it might be important podcast-related stuff, so I answered. But she said it’s not urgent.”
“Uh-huh.” My brows rose. “And the rest? Because when I came in, you weren’t talking to anyone.”
“That’s true. But I swear, I wasn’t reading your messages, or anything like that.”
“So what were you doing, then?”
He winced slightly, looking ashamed. “Look, I’m sorry. I know it was a dick move to start going through your phone like some stalker nutjob. But I figured if your laptop had malware, then your phone might have it too. So I decided to check.”
“Oh. Right. Was it clean?”
Dec nodded. “Yup, it’s all good.”
I swallowed hard, still a little peeved that he went through my phone without my permission. “How did you know my code?”
“You’ve had the same once since you were in high school, so I’ve seen you type it in at least twenty times.
” He paused and shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his jaw.
“Fuck, I’m really sorry, Kenny. I know I should’ve asked first. But my head is just all over the place right now, so I acted without thinking. I’m an asshole, I know.”
I sighed. “No, it’s okay. You’re not an asshole. You were just trying to look out for me,” I said. “But just ask me next time, all right?”
“Of course. I know it’s not cool, but it’s a force of habit, I think,” he said. “Kaylee used to lie about everything, and eventually I just… started checking. And because of that, I guess I got way too used to casually invading people’s privacy. Not an excuse, by the way. Just an explanation.”
My face softened. “I get it. Shitty relationships can really blur the lines, huh?”
“Yup. But it won’t happen again, I swear.” Dec stooped to grab the bottle of water from beside him. “Anyway, here’s that water you needed. Gotta stay hydrated!”
I accepted the bottle and twisted the lid off. Dec returned to the table, crouched low, screwing a leg into place like nothing had happened.
I drank slowly. Let the water cool my throat as I let the moment pass. Then I turned and headed back outside.
The air had cooled slightly, the early afternoon casting longer shadows across the street. I crossed the lawn toward the trailer, arms swinging loose at my sides, trying to shake off the odd weight in my chest. But that feeling from earlier… it was back again.
I paused near the curb and turned my head slowly, scanning my surroundings.
The neighbor from directly across the street was still in her front yard, crouched in the garden with a trowel. Across the way, a middle-aged man was checking his mailbox. Neither of them looked at me, and no new cars had pulled up.
I let out a shaky breath and tried to push the weird tension away. It was probably just paranoia after the laptop hacking. After all, anxiety was nothing new to me, and that creepy photo and message had only made it worse.
But it wasn’t personal, I reminded myself. Like Dec said, it was probably just a random hacker trying to scare me for a quick buck. Not some insane stalker watching my every move.
I glanced at the houses around me one last time, heart still pounding a little faster than it should’ve. Then I stepped inside the trailer, exhaling heavily.
Nothing bad was going to happen.
Right?