I wait a full minute, scanning the yard from the shadows. Then I move, circling the side of the house, keeping to the shadows, heart pounding harder with every step.
The kitchen light spills through the window, and there she is—moving easily through the space, barefoot, humming softly as she pours herself a glass of water.
She pauses and looks directly toward the window.
Oh, shit. She sees me.And she’s going to freak out and call the cops.
Her fingers tighten around the glass.“You are not going over there,”she says, her tone low.
I tense.Oh, shit. What if she heads to my house?I’d need to get out of here without her seeing me and high-tail it home before she arrives.
She stares into the glass of water, as if it can give her the answers she seeks.“Go to bed. Don’t give in to the urge, or Sebastian wins.”
With a sigh, she turns off the light and heads downthe hallway.
I watch her until she disappears, feeling something in my chest loosen.
I stand there, masked and breathless, my heart pounding.This is exhilarating. No wonder she stalks me.
Which is how I know I’m already past the point of pretending this is harmless. In fact, I’m well aware this is how men end up needing court-ordered therapy.
I back away slowly, not willing to press my luck tonight. It was risky enough sneaking into her house the last time. If she spotted me wearing a ski mask… yeah, I’d definitely make the Hollow Creek Facebook page.
I retreat into the night with a quiet laugh that I don’t bother stopping, certainty coursing through my veins.
I don’t want distance.
I don’t want boundaries.
I want Ivy.
And nothing is going to stop me from getting what I want.
26
SEBASTIAN
I wake up angry, which shouldn’t happen on a Friday.
I’m not mad at anything specific. I’m just irritated with the universe. The laws of physics. The audacity of silence.
I’m so irritated, the air in my house is all wrong. It makes no sense, but nothing does right now.
Drew is already at the table when I walk into the kitchen. His laptop is open, earbuds in. He looks up when he hears me, takes in my expression, and immediately removes one earbud like a man preparing to witness violence.
“Morning,” he says cautiously.
I grunt, open the cabinet, and stare at the mugs like one of them personally betrayed me.
With a sigh, I make coffee with the old pot, not the fancy machine Drew got me. Ivy was skilled at using it. I know I’m not.
My only hope is to make something that tastes good enough that the first sip sparks some life into my dead soul.
Drew watches me for a beat too long. “You… okay?”
“I’mfine.”
I stare at the machine like I can will it to drip faster.
