Page 51 of Unleashed

What is happening? How is it happening? WHY is it happening?

This has got to be my fault. I know what happens when I sleep with a guy. He falls in love. Gets obsessed. Won’t leave me alone.

Just like Down-the-Street Doug. I should have learned from that experience. But, no. I had to go and one-up myself by sleeping with someone who will be even more difficult to get rid of.

“I like him.” Zara takes her last bite of beans on toast. “He’s funny.”

“He is absolutely not funny.” Funny is the last thing anyone would ever call Trevor Bradshaw. “He’s annoying.”

“Brittany’s mom said if a boy is annoying you it’s because he likes you.” Zara dishes out what I’m sure she thinks is a life lesson.

And it is. A lesson Brittany’s mom is about to learn.

“That is fake news. If a boy’s annoying, it’s because he’s a jerk and you should punch him in the face.” Which is exactly what I’m gonna do to Brittany’s mom the next time I see her for telling Zara something so rooted in misogyny and fueled by the patriarchy. “If a boy isn’t emotionally developed enough to be kind to a girl he likes, then we don’t give him our time or our attention.”

Shit. Maybe that advice is bad. Because if I take my own advice, I have to maybe consider how Trevor hasn’t exactly been unkind to me lately. He’s given me thousands of dollars for practically nothing. Invited me to be a part of hiring my job replacement even though there was no reason for him to include me. He also offered to buy my sister a whole freaking petting zoo that he would store at his house.

And is now apparently bringing dinner tomorrow night so I won’t have to cook.

But he did try to make sure I wasn’t hired permanently at McKinley Security Systems, and I’m gonna cling hard to that. Otherwise, I might accidentally almost try to like him a little.

Just a little, though. Nothing crazy.

“Okay, miss ma’am. It’s bedtime.”

Once our dishes are cleared away and the dishwasher is loaded, I get Zara cleaned up, teeth brushed, hair braided, and tucked back into her bed.

Then it’s me time. I know I need to sleep more, but the only hours I get to myself are after she’s in bed. I can’t watch the scary shows I love when she’s around, because then I’d have to deal with nightmares. Or explaining everything in detail as she tries to make it all make sense. And I don’t want to do either of those.

I want to sit on the couch in my pajamas, eating snacks while binge watching Netflix.

So, after taking a quick shower of my own and pulling on my favorite matching short and shirt sleep set, I grab a pair of comfy socks that reach my knees and a bag of Chex mix, and pile up.

I make it through half of the first show before curiosity has me creeping to the window. Carefully, I lift a slat on the blinds so I can peek out across the road. Squinting against the darkness, I find the tree Trevor’s been parking under.

He’s not there.

Which is good. Perfect. Amazing.

I march back to the couch, determined not to be disappointed there’s no fancy sedan with a sexy stalker inside across the street.

Sexy? No. That’s not what I meant. I meant super annoying.

Dropping back to my spot on the sofa, I unpause the show, making it fifteen more minutes before I’m up again.

And back at the window. Maybe he went home to change and now he’s back out there being irritating and invasive.

Nope. He’s still not there.

Where the fuck is he? How is he going to park out there two nights in a row and then just disappear?

If you’re going to be unhinged, at least be reliably unhinged.

I stomp back to the couch and slump into place, arms crossed over my chest at how damned aggravating that man is. Does he want to be a pain in my ass or not? Is he committed to spying on me, or has he decided it’s already not worth the effort?

I swear to God, if he doesn’t show up tomorrow and Zara gets upset, I’ll be the one outside his house. Only I won’t quietly sit and observe.

I’ll burn it down.