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“I am funny.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t even remember who I am, do you? You ruin lives and just prance away having fun.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Norman? Call me crazy, but accosting a woman in her house doesn’t make you a good guy. In fact, it kind of makes you a bad guy.”
“Is that what you said when you turned everything over to the police?”
I blink. Something unlocks in my mind, and I get a closer look at Norman. Then I see the chocolate brown eyes, the remnants of a thick jaw. I glance up at his mostly bald head. The thick auburn hair is no longer there, but I remember he had been freaking out about his receding hairline. When I focus on his face again, I see the boy I thought I was in love with.
“Chet?”
“About damned time.”
“Keep Lizzo out of your mouth.”
“What?”
I roll my eyes, trying my best to calm my nerves. “Of course, you don’t know a queen when I mention her.”
He steps closer, and that panic morphs into full-blown terror. I know some self-defense moves, but he definitely outweighs me on top of being a guy. He’s let his football-trained body go flabby, but as Fritz taught me, women typically don’t have as much upper body strength.
“You were always rattling off insanity. You were lucky I even dated you.”
I laugh. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. There’s a crazy sheen to his gaze like he’s lost his mind. The sad thing is back when we dated, I did think I was lucky. I was an awkward girl without any experience, and a football player paid attention to me. I thought he was better than me because he was attractive and had experience.
“Stop laughing.”
That makes me giggle more. It ends up with a gasp when he backhands me.
The force of the hit has me stepping back, trying to gain my balance. I blink at the rush of tears that burn my eyes.
“Not so funny now, is it?”
Icy fear settles in my belly as I take in his smug smile. His eyes aren’t entirely focused, like a crazy killer in a movie. Only now, he’s focused on me, and it’s not a movie. Of course, I don’t know how to keep my big mouth shut.
“You’ve lost your mind.”
Great idea, Avery. Antagonizing the man who scrambled your brain with a slap is the way to go.
To prove me right, he slaps me again, this time with an open hand. I stumble back again, falling to the floor this time. My head hits the edge of the coffee table. Pain radiates from the back of my head and my face. He continues to advance on me, and I try to scramble back. My movements are sluggish, and I realize the whole room is spinning. The metallic taste of blood hits my tongue, and I know I have a split lip.
He leans down, and I see a bit of the boy in the man’s face. But that boy has been snuffed out, pushed aside by anger and hate. And at this moment, I am genuinely fearful for my life. There’s murder in his eyes.
As he reaches for me, I close my eyes. I don’t know if he will grab me, smack me again, or something worse. The hit never comes. Instead, a loud screech fills the air. I open one eye and see that Meredith has jumped on his face. She’s busy scratching the shit out of him. Chet/Norman is grabbing her, and now my Cat Mamma takes control. I struggle to stand up, and the entire room spins. But before I can do anything. Benjamin rubs against Chet/Norman’s feet. He’s falling just as the front door bursts in.
“Avery!”
It’s Jon, and I don’t know if I have ever been as happy to see someone as I am to see him right this minute. It’s then I start crying. The look of anger on his face calms me. But only for a second. Because Chet/Norman pulls out a gun and points it in my direction.
Oh, fuck.
Jon tackles Chet/Norman. The two fall to the floor, and the gun flies out of Chet/Norman’s hand. The sound of it sliding across the wood floor is intermingled with grunts as my intruder tries to get to the gun, and I can’t get to it because it’s on the other side of the men. Plus, the whole room is still spinning.
“Oh, no, you don’t.”
I blink. Is that my brother’s friend Blue?
At least he’s holding the gun now, and Chet/Norman can’t get it.
