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Slowly, I turn and sit, and instantly, my body sinks into the mattress as I moan. God, that’s nice. I run my hands over the new bedding I bought. It seemed like the right thing to do, in case I ever got to this point. My palm glides over the soft fabric of the intricate floral bedding I found at this small shop in town.
“Nice,” I whisper.
Is it weird sleeping in his bed? In his room?
Maybe. But I’m so tired of stiff beds, and I’m not made for sleeping on sofas. I want one night of comfortable rest. Maybe I’ll try it out, and if I like it and it doesn’t feel too wrong, I’ll sleep in here every other night. Build up to the full commitment.
God, Hanna, it’s a bed, not a marriage proposal.
Climbing all the way on, I lift my hips, move the blanket, and slide under it, getting comfortable. The second my head hits the pillow, I’m in bliss, too cozy to think about much, and I drift off fast. So fast I can’t even remember anything past my head meeting the pillow.
I jolt up when I hear Dorothy and Clyde barking at the front door downstairs, hurriedly tossing my feet over the side of the bed. My heart rate is beating like a jackhammer. I feel the anxiousness setting in, the unsettling feeling of being watched, being followed, being someone’s prey, and it overwhelms me.
The barking gets more aggressive, and that’s when I hear the clear sound of the door handle being violently pulled and turned, someone clearly attempting to get in. Panic overtakes me, and I do the only thing that comes to mind.
Call Theo.
Reaching over to the bedside table, I grab my phone, my shaky hands doing a terrible job of trying to scroll to his number. Once I’m on it, I click Dial.
“Puppet? What’s going on? It’s two in the morning.” He doesn’t sound groggy.
Was he even asleep?
“Someone is trying to break in! Theo, I’m scared. It’s all happening again. I’m not crazy.” He has no idea what I mean, but the fear has me at its mercy, and I can’t help but word-vomit. I don’t know what possesses me in that moment, but I stand and move to the doorway and down the hall until I’m at the end, taking a peek around the wall. I see a shadow pacing the front porch, looking in windows, and I feel sweat drip down my neck and back.
“Theo,” I whisper.
“Hanna, listen to me. Go into the bathroom, lock yourself in there, and I will be there in less than two minutes.”
I must have not heard him when he got in the truck while lost in my own thoughts. I can hear it roar to life and the tires screeching.
“I’m at the top of the stairs. I can see someone on the porch. They’re looking into the windows. I’m scared they’re going to—”
The sound of glass shattering stops me, and I scream, running back into the bedroom and then the bathroom.
“Hanna, talk to me! What was that?” Theo hollers. Locking the bathroom door and running into the closet, I cower into a corner as the tears stream down my face.
“They broke the window. Theo! Please hurry! Please!” I’m desperate. I can’t be here again. This can’t be real. There is no way in hell this is happening. It has to be a random break-in. It has to. No one in New York would know where I am. Not a single person.
“I’m almost there. Where are you? Did you lock yourself in the bathroom like I told you?”
“Y-Yes,” I stutter.
“Good. I’m almost there. Do you hear anything?”
“No. The dogs are barking. Wait.” I hear the sound of a loud engine starting. “Are you here?”
“Almost. What do you hear?”
“I think they’re leaving. I’m going to check.”
“The fuck you are. You don’t move until I’m at the door. What’s the safe word, baby? So you know it’s me.”
“It’s um…shit.” I wipe at my errant tears, overwhelmed.
“Breathe. You listen and do as I say, puppet. What is the safe word?” His voice is cool, collected—calm. And it works.
“Sirius.”
“Good girl. I’m pulling up now, and I’m going to check around the house, then I’ll be up. Stay put.”
“Yeah. I mean, yes. Okay.”
He stays on the phone, and I hear him walking around, boots hitting gravel then the wood of the porch.
“Fucker,” he grits out, the sound of a lock unlatching and then glass cracking. I hear the dogs and footsteps padding up the stairs, and I anxiously await his voice. There is a rap on the door followed by his low timbre. “Sirius, puppet.”
With that, I’m on my feet, running to the door and throwing it open. He’s on me just as fast as I’m on him, and I cry into his chest, a full-on sob, unashamed and unrestrained.
