Page 127 of Smoky Darling


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Beckett

Waitingfor the cops to show up, I move through the first level of Elouise’s house rechecking every door and window.

I’m sure this is just some random ass bullshit but having any sort of violence this close to Elouise is stressing me out. Because what if I hadn’t been here? Or if I hadn’t just fixed her locks just a few hours ago? Would they have found their way into her garage? Into her house?

I drag a hand over my face, “Fuck. What a mess.”

After shoving my feet into my boots, I’m just walking out the front door when a squad car pulls up. This is not how I wanted my night to go.

I lift a hand in greeting as the officer meets me in the driveway.

I’m telling him what we heard and saw when another squad car pulls up. This doesn’t warrant two cops, but that’s the thing about small towns with not a lot of crime you often end up with overkill.

When the new guy walks up, he looks at me and head tilts, “Hey, aren’t you the guy who almost got pancaked at the high school a couple nights ago?”

I nod, recognizing him, “Yeah, that was me.”

A bystander called the cops and I had to do a whole incident report for that too. And now that I’m thinking about it, I realize I haven’t even brought it up to Elouise. So she still has no idea that happened.

Elouise…

The cogs in my brain move forward, and something clicks into place. That last detail finally aligning.

New Guy whistles, “Sorry, man. Looks like someone really doesn’t like you.”

But that’s just it, isn’t it? What if this isn’t about me?

“Fuck.” My hands curl into fists as I look over my shoulder towards Elouise’s bedroom.

“What is it?” First Cop asks, clearly knowing about the incident at the high school since he doesn’t ask for clarification. “Do you know who could be doing this?”

I shake my head, “No. No one I can think of. I just… fuck. I don’t know if it’s just bad luck. Or if it’s about me.” I pull in a breath, hating what I’m going to say next, “Or it could be about Elouise.”

“Elouise?” First Cop looks at his notes, “That your girlfriend? The one who owns the house?”

Girlfriend?

I nod, but the word is all wrong. It doesn’t feel big enough.

Elouise. My Lou. My Smoky. She’s so much more than just a girlfriend.

“Does she have any enemies?” New Guy asks.

I almost laugh at the thought of someone hating Elouise, “No. She’s a fourth-grade teacher here in town. Maybe she’s had a disgruntled parent or something, but there’s been nothing…” I trail off, my mind flashing to that Shithead Adam crawling into her tent.

Could it be him? Is this someone who’s obsessed with Elouise and pissed at me for being with her?

The cops are talking amongst themselves, and I bite down on the urge to tell them about the guy. I don’t know Adam’s last name and even if I did it’s not exactly fair to point the finger at him with absolutely no evidence. Not to mention the fact that he could probably press assault charges against me for what I did to him in that bathroom.

At a loss for what else to do, I run my hands through my hair.

“Welp,” First Cop shuts his notepad, sliding it back into his pocket, “we’ll get this written up and let you know if we come across anything.”

New Guy nods in agreement, “I’ve watched the security footage from the high school, but the angles weren’t right, and it was too dark to make out anything useful.” He drops a hand onto my shoulder. “Could be one big coincidence, but probably best to keep your eyes open.”

I want to shrug his hand off, but I know I’m in a bad mood and don’t need to take it out on this guy.

First Cop rocks back on his heels, “I’ll drive by here a few more times before my shift is over. We have your contact info if we see anything suspicious.”

I thank them both and wait for them to drive off before turning to face my truck.

The windshield is so smashed up I’ll need to call a tow truck. And both the driver’s and passenger’s windows are shattered, pebbles of glass covering the entire interior.

I don’t usually keep things of value in my truck, but since we were working on Elouise’s doors today, I have a pile of tools in the backseat. I’m tempted to just leave them, but I know I’ll be pissed if the perpetrator comes back and steals my shit. So, cursing under my breath, I reach in through the broken window, unlock the doors, and – making use of the new keypad I installed – start hauling all my crap into the garage.

By the time I’m done, back upstairs, and stripped for bed, it’s nearly 4:00 am.

Elouise is sound asleep, curled up on her side, hugging a pillow. And the sight of her fills my chest with a mixture of exhaustion and panic. This woman – this person – means so damn much to me. And if something were to happen to her…

Not able to finish that thought, I crawl into bed and wrap myself around Elouise. She stirs slightly and I tighten my arms around her, cocooning her with my body. And only when I’m certain she won’t be able to move without waking me, I allow myself to follow her into sleep.

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