Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ruby
The Next Day
The late afternoon light stretches long across the road as I drive home, the sky washed in pale gold and gray. My phone is wedged between my shoulder and ear before I turn onto my street.
“You sound different,” Bella says.
“I feel different.” It feels weird to admit it, but I do. Safer. More relaxed.
“Different good or different I just joined a cult?”
I laugh. It’s a real laugh, not the polite version I’ve been handing out like brochures. “Different good. The office is calm, organized. No one leans on the desk like they’re trying to corner me.”
Bella hums knowingly. “And Xavier?”
“Xavier works there,” I say.
“No shit. That wasn’t what I meant.”
“I know. He’s good at his job. He corrects my anchor choices.”
“Romantic.”
“When he was at the house last night, he told me I was doing good.”
Bella goes quiet for half a second, which is how I know she’s grinning. “Oh, honey.”
Heat floods my cheeks. “Stop it. Not that kind of good. It was professional encouragement for my work at the office and on the renovations.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And his dad feeds me granola bars.”
“Stop. I can’t handle this level of domestic intimacy.”
I roll my eyes as I pull into my driveway. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re deflecting,” she sings.
“I’m hanging up.” I grab my bag as the warning rings in the air between us. Not that she feels threatened in the least.
“You have feelings for him, and this situation is likely complicating things.” Concern replaces the humor in her voice. “He’s your boss, Ruby.”
I’m not going to respond to that. I don’t know what I’m doing as it is. Yes, I have feelings for Xavier, and they’re not getting any dimmer. But there’s no point dwelling on it. Xavier doesn’t do relationships, and he’s never looked at me that way.
It shouldn’t bother me…. My stomach tightens. But it does.
“I like having a job where no one leaves me anonymous poetry.” Deflecting is the best answer in this situation.
Silence. Then, softer, “I’m glad you left.”
“Me too.” And I mean it.
After I hang up, I get out of the car. The evening air is cool against my skin. My house sits at the end of the street, porch light off, no movement, no street sounds. I love this area…. The quiet, the space. It’s nothing like my dad’s farm, but it’s my own little piece of serenity.
I unlock the door and step inside. The smell hits first. I wrinkle my nose. It smells off. Not bad, but off. A shiver moves through me. It’s cooler than it should be, like the air’s been disturbed and hasn’t settled yet. I stop in the entryway.
The kitchen light is on. I don’t remember leaving it on. My pulse kicks.
“Hello?” My voice sounds too loud in the empty house.
No answer.
The refrigerator hums. A faint ticking from the wall clock. Every small sound feels amplified, like the house is holding its breath. I step into the kitchen. The window over the sink is closed, but something sits on the counter that wasn’t there this morning.
A small white box. Perfectly centered. My name written across the top. RUBY. That same block lettering again. My breath leaves me in a rush. The notes. The chocolates. The flowers.
He’s been inside my house. The room tilts. I grip the edge of the counter, forcing myself to breathe. You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re fine.
I don’t touch the box. My phone is still in my hand as I stare at the screen. Who do I call? The police? Jake?
Xavier. My thumb hovers over his name. This isn’t his problem. He’s my boss. I can handle this.
The silence presses in harder. He was here. He could still be….
My thumb moves before I can think myself out of it. The phone vibrates in my hand. I flinch, heart slamming.
Xavier: You make it home okay?
The words blur before snapping into focus. Relief crashes through me so hard my knees nearly give. My fingers shake as I type.
Me: Someone was in my house.
The three dots appear. Disappear. Reappear.
Xavier: Are you inside?
Me: Yes.
Three dots appear almost immediately.
Xavier: I’m on my way.
I stare at the message, breath coming too fast, the house pressing in around me. Blood pounds in my ears as my legs shake too hard for me to move. What if he’s still here? My gaze bounces between the box on the kitchen counter and the open doorways.
The wind rattles the siding. A car passes at the end of the street. Every sound feels too loud. Too close.
I grip my phone like it’s the only solid thing in the room. The box sits on the counter. Silent. Waiting. And for the first time since this started, I don’t try to convince myself it’s nothing.