AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I saw an article inBitetoday about your Nonna Pie. They called it the best in the continental US.” I raise a brow at him after a while because I’d meant to tell him. “I kind of geeked out when I saw it. Like, I know how successful Hope Pizza is, but every time I’ve seen a write up over the years, I’d feel so much pride for you all. ThatNew York Timespiece had me tearing up.”
A few years ago, the food critic at the most iconic newspaper in the US, and probably the world, gave the pizza the Ashtons make two thumbs-up. I had a feeling business was booming.
“They’re not wrong. And that piece was epic for the business and my family.” We watch a white heron land on a low branch about a yard away. “I need to take you into the restaurant.”
We haven’t had the conversation yet, and I haven’t pushed. Hope Pizza is the final domino in the solidification of how serious we are. It’s not like I haven’t eaten there, Dad took me once or twice as a kid. I’ve picked up takeout from the lunch counter a few times since being back in Hope Crest. But I haven’t eaten dinner, across from Patrick, in the main dining room since becoming the woman he’s dating. It seems silly to put the boyfriend/girlfriend label on us. One, because we are far past the age of worrying about such drama. And two, because it seems so trivial to the relationship we have. We’ve both already admitted and shown that we want to be in this for the long haul.
“Yes, you do.”
“Soon. Because once we do that, there will be even more talk amongst the Hope Crest residents than there is on your paparazzi sites.”
My laughter confirms his assumption because that’s probably very true. I’ll welcome it with open arms because it means I’ve landed Patrick Ashton. My teenage self would be over the moon.
What’s more, my current self is entirely sure this is the man I am meant to spend forever with.
21
PATRICK
Anoise rouses me, waking me from my deep slumber.
Cassandra is wrapped up in my arms, her hair tickling my shoulder as her nose presses practically into my neck. It’s a wonder we get any sleep with how coiled we are, but for the first time in my life, I feel better cuddling with someone while I sleep than I do on my own separate part of the bed.
Another thump has me gaining more awareness; the darkness of the room illuminated by the moon coming through the curtains. When nothing else sounds, I sit up, waiting.
It’s probably the horse outside or Nathan the dog, shifting positions. Either way, I get up to pee and then head for the kitchen, needing some water.
I flick the light over the sink and grab a glass, wanting to shake off this eerie feeling and get back in bed with Cassandra. I look outside, staring at the fields I’ve known my entire life, the moon patiently waiting for us all to wake up so it can rest.
That’s when I turn and see it.
The glass slips from my hand, shattering onto the floor, but I’m not even aware of it.
Because written on the wall of Butch’s living room is the wordRATin big, red capital letters.
“What’s going on?” Cassandra comes out of the bedroom rubbing her eyes, hair mussed. “Did you break a glass?”
My finger comes up, trying to stop her from the other side of the room. “Don’t, stop right there.”
She’s still around the corner, the half wall blocking her view of the message written in the living room.
“I can help. There is a dustpan under the—” But she sees the dread in my eyes and watches them flit to the wall I don’t want her to see.
And then her head is turning, and I watch as all the color leaves her skin. “What?”
“I thought I heard a noise, then nothing. Came to get a glass of water and clear my head from the paranoia, then turned around to see this,” I explain, my throat dust dry. “Don’t step over here with the glass.”
I tiptoe over to where she’s standing, her body cold and still as I reach for her. She can’t take her eyes from the wall, fresh droplets from the spray paint still rolling.
“Someone was in here while we slept.” She chokes out the words.
That thought sends a chill of anger and murder down my spine. Someone broke into her safe space again, getting around the security system, and was on the other side of this wall while we were defenselessly sleeping. While Cassandra was unarmed and unconscious. The what-ifs crowd my brain, blurring my vision into a red haze.
“I’m calling the cops.” I don’t let go of her as I swing us back to the bedroom, holding tight as she begins to shake in my arms.
“We can’t go back to the cops.” Cassandra lays her hands on my bare chest, her face pale and frantic.
I wrap my arms around her, trying to give all my warmth to her right now. “We have to report this.”
