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Travis nods. “Yes. A stalker.”
“When did this happen?” Oliver butts in, his attention shifting from Travis to Kirsten. “Does this have to do with the napkin note?”
All eyes shoot to Oliver.
“You know about the napkin?” Travis’s growl vibrates through the room. “Why didn’tyousay anything?”
Oliver holds up both hands in surrender. “One—I had no idea it was some psycho shit. The guy left it under his mug and it was addressed to K. I didn’t read it. I don’t invade people’s privacy.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, then continues on the exhale. “Two—don’t bark at me. I’m on your side. So chill the fuck out.”
For someone who comes off as passive, Oliver gets fired up when provoked.
“Do you remember what the guy looks like?” Travis goes into investigator mode.
Oliver tips his head back and closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. Still as stone, our eyes fixed on him, we wait for his response. Wait for the slightest clue. He levels his gaze with Travis and shakes his head. “Dark hair.” He shrugs. “Older than me, but maybe younger than Law.”
Silence falls over the room as we all process his vague description.
“That’s it?” Travis’s nostrils flare.
But Oliver doesn’t bend to his wrath. “Yeah. That’s it.” He swipes his beer off the table and downs the last of it. “It was weeks ago. He kept his head down. Seemed pissed. Didn’t drink any of his coffee or order food.”
He rises from the couch and trudges toward the kitchen. A clang echoes in the air as he tosses his bottle in the recycle bin. From the kitchen side of the island, he slaps his hands on the counter and faces us.
“One second, he was there. The next, he was gone.”
Grabbing a knife off the counter, he cuts one of the pies with too much aggression. Then he goes to the fridge for the whipped cream. He adds a slice of apple pie to a plate and smothers it with the dairy confection.
Not another word is said about the note as everyone ambles toward the kitchen for dessert. I pull up the rear of the line behind Kirsten. I tug the end of her hair as we wait to pile our plates high. When she peeks over her shoulder, I give her a sad smile.
“You okay?”
She half-shrugs. “I guess.” Her lips roll between her teeth. “Kind of.”
Wanting to lighten the mood, if only a little, I tease, “You know, I considered moving here.” I faux-wince. “But y’all have psychos in the woods, so…”
She snorts and rolls her eyes.
I lean into her, my front inches from her back. My breath dances across the skin of her neck. “Psychos aside, I’d love to be closer to you again.”
She shivers and I smile.
“Let me be closer, sparkles.” I ghost my knuckles along her spine. “Give me a chance.”
When I peer up and see half the room staring at us, I put a little distance between us. Travis peeks over his shoulder to see what everyone else is looking at. His growl of irritation is unmistakable.
But it’s Kirsten who verbally knocks me on my ass. “Let’s talk about this later,” she mutters. “In private.”
Her rejection is a dull knife to my fragile heart, but I nod like my heart didn’t crack a little. “Yeah. Sure.”
NINETEEN
KIRSTEN
Crossingmy arms over my chest, I tip my head back and stare as snow flurries trickle through the tree canopy. Flurries land on my bare shoulders and I shiver, rubbing my hands up and down my forearms.
Where is my jacket?
Leaves crunch beneath my feet; evergreen needles jab between my toes as I wander through the woods. Daylight fades with each step forward. Or is it backward?
