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ChapterSeventeen
BERNIE
I’m never alone.
I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it either. In the week since my run-in with the man the police refer to as Joe Salt, aka my stalker, I don’t think I’ve had more than an hour of time by myself.
Wade is always around. He’s spent every night with me since he promised he was here for me. I’m torn between enjoying his presence and wishing we had stayed in a fight. I struggle with my feelings on that front.
My longtime crush on Wade is growing more substantial with every day we’re together. I’m falling in love with him, I’ve come to realize. But him hiding our relationship hurt me more than I had expected it to. We haven’t talked about the fight, and some days, I can ignore that Wade and I never actually made up. It’s like we’re living in the in-between of moving forward and standing still.
I’m not ready to really leave the building, so I haven’t. He still brings dinner, and he’s cooked twice. But I don’t know if the group knows he’s here or not. I haven’t asked. I don’t know if I want to know. My brain can only handle one emotionally draining event at a time. Hiding away from a stalker is enough for now.
I have seen a change in Wade over the past week. He checks in on me during the day. Occasionally, he comes by earlier than expected and doesn’t seem to mind that Gia is with me. She leaves, knowing he’s staying. He spends the night but leaves early in the morning—I assume to shower and get ready for work. For a man who has always put work first, he’s not putting in as many hours as normal. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but it’s become clear that my friends have changed their schedules to make sure I’m never alone. I appreciate it, I really do, but it’s starting to wear on me. I can’t imagine this becoming my life. I’m only going to allow this behavior to go on for so long.
When Wade isn’t around, someone else is. While Ruby and Morgan work jobs that require them to be somewhere, they’ve still managed to show up at random times during the day. A lot of time is spent in the game room with my teammates, but when I’m home, Gia is normally there, clacking away at her laptop, or we’re watching upcoming pilots for her to review and write up forWeekly Entertainmentmagazine. I can’t complain about that, though. The fact that she gets early episodes of prime time shows weeks in advance is a major perk of her job.
It’s a catch-22, really. My friends, they mean well, but I’m feeling smothered. But in the moments when I’m alone, I dwell on everything that has happened. Sometimes, when I get home from being in the game room all day, the space in which I live doesn’t feel like my safe haven anymore. I know I’m just being paranoid, of course.
It’s Friday afternoon and I’m feeling restless. We leave for a tournament on Wednesday, and I’m looking forward to traveling. I spent the morning on my Twitch stream, and because I’m never alone, Simon and Link joined the stream. For a couple hours, I let myself get lost in the game.
I’m standing at my counter, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich—not my favorite, but I’m out of food. I need to go to the grocery store. Carrying my PB&J over to the couch, I let out a sigh.
I’m emotionally worn out, that’s for sure. When I came in a few minutes ago, I had one thing on my mind—food. But now that I’m sitting here, I get that twitchy feeling that something feels off. I take a bite of my sandwich and chew it slowly.
“You gotta snap out of it, girl,” I mutter to myself.
I look around and realize once again that I’m bring paranoid. Just as I take another bite, there’s a knock at my door. I jump, because apparently I’m a scaredy -cat now, and move slowly to the door. I look through the peephole and see Matt and his cocky smirk staring back at me.
I unlock the door and jerk it open. “Not you too,” I whine.
“Oh, I can see you’re happy to see me.” He chuckles and walks inside.
“Ugh. Now see, you’re gonna take whatever I say next and twist it.” I point a finger at him.
He lifts his hands in defense. “I would never.” But his grin tells me he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“Let me guess. The Babysitter’s Club gamer edition sent you?”
He snorts. “Not necessarily. I wanted to visit my good ole pal, Benny.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Uh-huh. Right.”
He plops down on my couch, making himself at home. “So how does it work? Do you all draw straws, and whoever get the shortest has to babysit?” I take a seat on the other end, pull my legs up underneath me, and face him, leaning my arm on the back of the couch and resting my temple on my fist.
“Nah, it’s not like that. We’re more organized. We have a color-coded schedule and everything.” He smirks and I roll my eyes.
I scoff. “Now that I believe.”
“Honestly, no one is asking any of us to come check on you. It’s not exactly a hardship to hang out with you, Bern, but we’re all worried about you being alone, because we don’t want that fucker getting any ideas. It’s not you, it’s him.”
And that right there reminds me why I shouldn’t be annoyed that my friends are rallying behind me. The detective working my case told me it wouldn’t hurt to have someone stay with me in hopes it would scare the guy off.
“I will say that a certain overprotective douche isn’t letting anyone off the hook, though,” he grumps.
I straighten. “What?”
“Your boyfriend-not-boyfriend has been pretty adamant about us checking in and hanging out.” He runs his hand through his short hair. “Well, not me so much. He gave me a good ole fashioned death stare the other day. I went rouge today.
