Page 171 of Show Me

Because of course that's his answer: ignore it. Don't name it. Pretend it isn't there. It's exactly what he's always done.

The problem is.... I don't know how much longer I can.

Chapter Ninety

Ruby

The sound wakes me instantly. A sharp crack. Then the violent shatter of glass. For half a second, my brain can’t place it. Another crash echoes through the house.

I bolt upright. Beside me, Xavier is already moving. “What was that?”

His feet hit the floor. “Stay here.”

Stay here? Alone? That’s not going to happen. I scramble off the bed, catching the sheet around my feet and stumbling to an upright position. “I’m going with you.”

Xavier groans and shakes his head. “Fine, stay behind me.”

Another impact slams through the front of the house. Glass scatters across hardwood somewhere down the hallway. My heart lurches. “That was inside.”

Okay, I may want to stay here. My fingers shake as I snatch my silk robe off the dresser.

“I know.” He grabs the flashlight from the nightstand and strides for the bedroom door.

No. My spine straightens. This is my house. My home. And no one is going to scare me out of it.

I’m behind him before he can say anything else. He doesn’t argue.

The living room is chaos. Glass litters the floor beneath the front window, cold air pouring through the jagged hole punched through the center. The curtains move in the wind.

Xavier crouches, flashlight sweeping the room. A rock sits in the middle of the broken glass. Paper taped around it.

“Son of a bitch.” He picks it up, peeling the tape back. The muscles in his jaw flex once.

“What does it say?” Acid burns in my throat.

He hesitates just long enough for my pulse to spike before turning it toward me.

Stay away from her.

Cold settles low in my stomach. The broken window lets another gust of air into the room.

Xavier is already moving. Not toward the door. Toward me. His hand finds my arm, guiding me back from the window. "Stay here."

“What?”

Another sharp crack echoes outside. Farther away this time, but still close. Too close.

He kills the flashlight. The room drops into darkness. Only the porch light spills through the broken window. He stands just off to one side of it, careful not to silhouette himself. Watching. Listening.

The flashlight stays off. His gaze sweeps the yard. Fence line. Driveway. Tree line. I inch closer while remaining out of view, following the same scanning motion. Nothing. No movement. No footsteps. No engine. Just the wind.

Another few seconds pass. Too quiet.

He speaks without looking away. ‘If somebody’s out there, they’re waiting for one of us to make a mistake.”

The words cause the hair on my arms to stand. He waits. Five seconds. Ten. Nothing. Only then does he unlock the front door. He eases it open a few inches.

Stops. Listens again. Then steps onto the porch. Not far. Just enough to clear the doorway.