“He wanted me afraid, and it worked,” she said. “He wants me to feel like there’s nowhere I can be without him in my head. And if I sleep at your house tonight because of what he said in that parking lot, then he wins. He gets to decide where I sleep. He gets to take my house away from me on top of everything else he’s taken.” Her jaw set. “I won’t let him do that. I have to go back. I have to walk in there and turn on the lights and sleep in my own bed and prove to myself—and to him, even if he never knows—that he doesn’t get to push me out of my own life.”
Fuck. He hated it. Wanted to argue. Wanted to carry her across his own threshold and keep her where he could see her.
But he understood.
“You call me if you need anything. Doesn’t matter what time.”
“I know.”
“I’m serious, Greta. Anything feels wrong, you call. I’ll be across the street in thirty seconds.”
“I will.”
She wouldn’t. She’d handle it herself, the way she handled everything. But he needed to say it. Needed to put the offer out there even if she never took him up on it.
She stepped closer and rose up on her toes, one hand on his chest for balance. He bent down and met her halfway, his hands finding her waist, as she kissed him.
When she pulled back, she stayed close, her forehead pressed to his sternum.
“Thank you,” she said into his shirt. “For tonight. For all of it.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do, though.”
She stepped back. His hands fell away.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Yeah.”
She turned and walked across the street with Atlas at her heel, her keys already in her hand. She unlocked the door and went inside without looking back. A few seconds later lights came on inside—living room, kitchen, then the glow from upstairs that meant she’d gone to her bedroom.
Bear stood in his own driveway and watched until the lights went off downstairs. Then he finally turned and went up his own steps, knowing he wouldn’t sleep well without her beside him.
thirty-one
“Dad!”
Bear burst awake in full fight mode before his brain registered it was Logan’s voice shouting for him. “What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Logan stood in the doorway, backlit by the hallway light. “Atlas was—he was going crazy, and woke me up then he just stopped barking, and there’s—I looked out my window, and there was someone, a truck, I think—” He stopped, breathing hard. “I think something’s in a tarp. In the truck bed.”
Maybe he was still asleep, because the words tumbling from his son’s mouth weren’t making any sense. “Wait, what?” He got up and crossed the room, the floor cold under his bare feet. When he put his hands on Logan’s shoulders, he found the kid was shaking. “Hey, buddy. Did you have a nightmare?”
“No! You’re not listening!” He knocked Bear’s hands off his shoulders. “There was someone over at Greta’s, and I think he put her in a tarp in the truck bed. She’s in trouble.”
Every single cell in Bear’s body flash-froze.
Greta. Was. In. Trouble.
He moved. Down the hall, Logan behind him. King was already at the bottom of the stairs, throwing himself at the front door.
Bear hit it at a run, all but ripping it off its hinges. King burst out in front of him and took off down the street, chasing after a set of taillights.
“King!” Logan shouted. “Come back!”
The dog didn’t turn. Didn’t slow. Just kept running, his dark shape visible for another two seconds before he turned the corner and disappeared into the night.
