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Theresa arches a brow. “You? Decorate the house for Christmas?”
“Why not?”
I can’t be near Eric while my hormones are all over the place. I snort. “Hell no. You’ll end up ruining everything.”
His expression becomes serious. “I’ll just chop some wood then.”
“That’s a great idea, sweetheart,” Theresa pipes up, then turns to me. “Come on, Val. There’s so much work left to do.”
I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist looking over my shoulder as I walk out of Eric’s room. There’s a glint of something deranged in his eyes now, and it makes my breath catch but not out of fear. It’s excitement that’s making my blood rush faster through my veins.
seven
Eric
Iswore to myself I wouldn’t start things with Valerie again. She made it crystal clear last year she wanted nothing more to do with me. I was resigned that she would never be mine, and yet I made arrangements to be close to her again just the same by transferring to Hawthorne University for the upcoming spring semester. It was all set up. I knew I wouldn’t be able to give up the pain of being near her and not having her. It was almost as good ashavingher. I’d have enrolled at Hawthorne U in the first place, but I had unfinished business in New York City. There were some assholes on my list that had to go.
But the moment I saw her after all these months apart, I forgot all about my vow. The need to possess every part of her being returned with a vengeance. Never mind that she doesn’t want anything to do with me.
Chopping wood sounds like the perfect distraction, and it’s also good practice. I still prefer my bowie knife, but lately, I’ve had a couple kills where I switched to an axe. It requires more strength, so I’ve been hitting the gym more often to get the job done with better precision.
I thought being back in New York City would cure me of my obsession with Valerie. Being busy with school, the hockey team, and my long list of targets should have kept my mind from wandering to her. No such luck.
It takes an hour to finish my chore, and by the time I return to the house, Mom and Valerie have finished putting the final touches on the decor. I’m surprised Mom was still busy with that. She starts putting Christmas decorations up as soon as Thanksgiving is over.
Valerie is sitting at the kitchen table, distracted by her iPad, and Mom is baking Christmas cookies. The smell makes my mouth water and my stomach rumble.
“I’m all done,” I announce, loud enough to get Valerie’s attention. She doesn’t lift her gaze from her screen, but her brows furrow.
“Good. Wash your hands, and you can have some of the first batch of cookies,” Mom replies, but I keep staring at Valerie.
“What are you reading that’s making you that angry, sis? Your horoscope?”
“Bite me, Eric,” she snaps.
Oh, the retort that’s on the tip of my tongue. She totally teed it up for me, but I can’t say it in front of my mother.
Mom steps closer and whispers, “Valerie is probably reading another article about Killer Santa. The news started focusing on that again with... you know.”
That vanquishes my good mood. “I can’t believe you’re still mourning Hansen,” I tell Valerie.
She snaps her face up. “Mourning that loser? Are you nuts?”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that answer and neither was my mother, judging by how her eyes widen.
“Why are you upset about those articles then?” I ask.
“Because it’s a reminder of how worthless the Sheriff’s Department is. How could they not catch Hansen’s killer?”
Uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach. I don’t regret killing that motherfucker, but what if Valerie finds out it was me? Will she rat me out? I’d never silence her permanently to avoid spending the rest of my life in prison, but my biggest fear is having her recoil from me in disgust. I’m a deranged psycho, after all. It doesn’t matter that I only kill monsters. Most people would run away.
“His killer is probably long gone,” I say.
She holds my stare, and I can almost hear the gears in her head working at full speed. “Or maybe the killer is closer than we think.”
I shove a cookie in my mouth, earning a slap on the arm from my mother. “You didn’t wash your hands.”
“Sowwy mowm,” I reply with my mouth full.
