AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m so fucked.
“Ray! Answer me right now!” Shiloh cries, pulling me from my thoughts. Sighing, I make my way back to the kitchen. I drop down into a chair at the island and prop the phone up next to a stack of books. “What happened?”
Her cheeks are flushed and sweaty. Her hair's messed up and she’s wearing a new shirt. My brows hitch up to my hairline. “What happened to you?” She blushes even further and shrugs, her lips tilting up in a smirk. “Here I was, freaking out about my house being broken into and you’re gettin’ it on with your lumberjack,” I tut in disapproval, though, I’m not really mad. How could I be when my bestie is literally glowing?
She blanches and I immediately regret my words. Sometimes I forget how deep Shiloh’s guilt runs when it comes to those she loves.You’re one to talk,my brain chimes in. “Shit, I’m so sorry.”
I hold a hand up, shushing her. “I was kidding. At least one of us is getting some and I’m fine. Honestly. I took a sleeping pill last night, so I’m probably just imagining shit.”
“A sleeping pill? Are you okay?” She shifts, lifting Archer up higher on his nursing pillow when he spits her boob out. “Eat, please. Mommy needs a nap,” she groans, encouraging him to latch back on.
I watch the scene with rapt attention. I’ve never wanted kids. I’ve known from the time I was a kid myself that the mommy gig just wasn’t for me. When all my friends were playing make-believe mommies and daddies, I was pretending to be their queen. Maybe it’s because I saw how hard my dad struggled to be a single parent. He gave up all of his freedom to support me and be everything I could have ever wanted or needed, and then some. He worked a physically demanding and emotional job all day, then spent his nights making sure I never felt like I was missing out. He tried to hide how exhausted and lonely he was, but I saw it. Especially as I got older. He loves me, but he was miserable. That’s not something I ever wanted for myself.
But as I watch Shiloh tend to one of her sons, I realize that there’s more to it than that. It’s not just that I don’t want to risk being a single parent and not beingenoughfor my children, but it’s that I’m lacking a big piece of motherhood. An example. I didn’t grow up with a mom. I grew up with a strong father who taught me how to change tires and mow the lawn. I have no idea how to be delicate or soothing. I don’t know how to sew on buttons or tend booboos. I’m not sure there is a maternal bone in my body, and that’s more terrifying than the idea of possibly having a stalker.
Stalker.Because, at this point, that’s what Wolfe is. He found me when he shouldn’t have been able to. He threatened anyone who touches me. He claimed me. He fucked me. He soothed me. He…would he be a good dad? Would we make a good team as a couple and as parents? Can a relationship and future even come from such a twisted beginning? The bigger question is; why am I even thinking about this right now? Holy shit, I’ve lost it.
“Ray. Are you okay? You’re staring at my boobs.” My eyes snap up to find Shiloh’s on the screen of my phone, and I realize with a slight tinge of mortification that I was indeed staring at her tits.Jesus, get it together, Ray.
Smiling, I shake the residual fog off. “I’m fine. Just zoned out. I’m probably going to take a nap after this. Sleep off the rest of the meds.”Lies. I’m going to Google the fuck out of stalkers.“What’s new?”
She narrows her eyes at me, studying me in a way that makes my skin crawl. Finally, she accepts whatever she sees and grins at me. “We’re having the first ever official Huxley Halloween Party and you’re invited. You’re also expected to bring a date.” My mouth opens to argue, but she shoots me a disapproving glare. “Nope. Find someone on that dating app you signed up for and bring them, or invite someone from the office. I don’t care, but you’re bringing a man and that’s that.”
“Shit,” I groan. “Fine,mom.”
She scoffs. “If I was your mother, I’d put you over my knee, young lady. You have an attitude problem.” I gape at her, and she has the decency to blush. “Sorry. I think I’ve been spending too much time with Logan.”
“Fuck, if that’s what he does when you misbehave, I’m surprised you can sit at all. He must not be doing it right.”
She gives me a smug look and tosses her hair over her shoulder, being careful not to jostle the baby. “Where do you think I just was?” she deadpans.
We stare at each other as her declaration sinks in before, finally, we both bust up laughing, which of course, sets the baby off. Shiloh quickly has to disconnect to take care of a fussy Archer. Meanwhile, I do exactly what I shouldn’t and spend my morning Googling all things stalker.
It’s official.
Wolfe and I need to have a serious conversation. I honestly didn’t make any headway when looking up stalkers beyond the fact that they have unhealthy obsessions and, oftentimes, mental illnesses. While I’d like to say I don’t think that’s the case with him, he regularly sends me ominous Edgar Allen Poe quotes about insanity. Part of me is now beginning to think that the quotes are less about romanticism and more about him covertly sending me a message.
A message I’ve been too blind to see, apparently.
A lot of the articles also said that I should:
1: Fear for my life.
2: File a police report.
Instead, I Googled therapists because my instant reaction to that advice was anger and defensiveness. Anger at the suggestion of being genuinely afraid of him and defensiveness at the thought of him being arrested.
I’m a well-educated woman. A woman who literally works with criminals and the law. I, out of all people, should be taking this seriously. I should report him. I should cease communication with him, yet the need to protect this fragile relationship and connection we’ve created is intense and all-consuming. I don’t want anything to happen to Wolfe, and I don’t want to lose him.
But—we still need to talk. I need answers, and maybe once I have them I’ll make a decision. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I type out a message to him. My first since that night at the club.
FoxBabe20: We need to talk. Call me tonight.
KillerClown4u: So you’re talking to me now?
FoxBabe20: So you’re stalking me now?
KillerClown4u: I don’t know what you’re talking about, Little Fox. Has something happened?
