3. Super Spy Knowledge #2
I shut the laptop and stand, suddenly aware of how still the house feels.
Too quiet. Too exposed. I move through the downstairs slowly, checking each door and window—locked.
Then upstairs. I know no one could get in from up here, but logic doesn’t carry much weight right now.
I roll my eyes at myself as I reach the last window.
Right. My stalker is Spider-Man. Spencer would be thrilled.
***
The unease hasn’t left me all day. Even now, curled up on the couch with all the doors locked, the tension feels heavy in my chest—a slow, creeping discomfort I can’t shake. That sensation of being watched. Of something just out of sight.
I exhale sharply and grab my phone off the coffee table. I just need a distraction. A familiar voice.
Nicole answers on the first ring. Not a hello. Not a “how are you?” Nope—she jumps straight to FaceTime, because privacy apparently doesn’t exist when you’ve been best friends for nearly two decades.
Her face fills the screen—brown curls piled high on her head in a messy bun, a pint of ice cream in one hand, and a spoon hanging from her mouth.
“Hey, bitch—how’s soldier boy?”
I smirk and settle into the cushions. “Probably somewhere brooding.”
She arches a brow. “Of course he is.”
I’d texted her this morning after seeing Matt on his run. And, okay—maybe I’d also snapped a pic and sent it to her. Then I texted again to tell her he changed my tire, and that we thought it might’ve been slashed.
Nicole shovels another bite of ice cream. “How come you always get the hot ones? Where’s my tall, dark, and dangerous?”
“Well, if you hadn’t abandoned me for the land of overpriced coffee and never-ending drizzle, you might’ve seen him first.”
She gasps dramatically, pressing her hand to her chest. “First of all, I did not abandon you. Work exiled me to Seattle, where rent is criminal and adulthood is a scam. Secondly, that man wouldn’t last a week with me.”
She’s not wrong. Nicole is chaos wrapped in eyeliner—loud, unfiltered, allergic to bullshit. It’s why we’ve been inseparable since freshman year—she’s the one who drags me out of my comfort zone when I’d rather hide. And I miss her. God, do I miss her.
I sigh, folding my legs beneath me. “I bet he has hot soldier friends.”
“I bet he does,” she agrees. “You should ask. Y’know, for science.”
I snort. “Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
Nicole waves her spoon like a wand. “So… any updates from your friendly neighborhood ghost?”
I hesitate.
I’d told her about the strange things before—the creaking upstairs when no one else was home, the cabinet doors I’d find open after swearing I’d closed them, the bathroom light turning on by itself at 2 a.m. Things that felt ghostly in the moment.
Now, in hindsight, they feel more like breadcrumbs I didn’t realize I should’ve been following.
She squints. “What?”
“I completely forgot to tell you.”
Nicole straightens. “Forgot what?”
I glance toward the window, nerves crawling. “There was a guy parked outside the house earlier. Matt saw him.”
“Jesus—”
“He didn’t just sit there. He got out. Walked around. Scoped the place like he was checking for a way in.”
“You don’t think—”
“I don’t know what to think.”
Nicole sets the ice cream aside, her tone changing. “Melina.”
I chew my lip. “It’s not just that.”
“Spill it.”
I take a deep breath. “I came home the other night and found a candle lit.”
Her spoon drops into the container. “Bitch, what?”
“I swear I didn’t light it.”
She looks at me, her humor gone. “Are you hearing yourself? Your tire gets slashed, some guy is watching your house, and now you’ve got self-lighting candles?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I mean… maybe I forgot?”
Nicole scoffs. “Sure… and I guess serial killers knock first too.”
A weak laugh escapes as I walk through the house again, checking the locks. “Maybe I’m being paranoid.”
Her voice softens, but there’s steel beneath it. “Better paranoid than sorry. At least you’ve got a damn ninja turtle across the street watching out for you.”
I laugh softly. “A ninja turtle?”
“You know what I mean. Tall, broody, probably has a kill count. Looks like he could take out a man with a paperclip.”
I smile, but it quickly fades. “Well… he’s not here. He said he’s deploying for a few days.”
Nicole frowns. “Wait—when did he tell you that?”
“He called me earlier.”
Her eyes widen. “You gave him your number?”
“I didn’t.” I exhale, slumping back onto the couch. “He says he… has people.”
Nicole blinks. Then again. “He has people?”
“That’s what he said.”
She whistles softly. “Jesus. What is he, Jason Bourne?”
I laugh, but deep down, I know the truth. Not Jason Bourne. Something scarier.
Nicole glances offscreen, sighs, then turns back to me.
“Alright, love, I gotta go—some of us have jobs to pretend to care about.”
“Must be rough,” I mutter.
“Unbearable,” she deadpans. Then her expression softens. “Hey—it’s going to be okay. Call me if anything feels off. Love you.”
A genuine smile tugs at my lips. “Love you, too.”
The screen goes dark. It doesn’t fix anything, but it helps. Nicole always does.