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I don't head up to the bedroom until around ten, planning on taking a little power nap before getting to work and finding some cheap pieces to buy for my shop. I'm supposed to go thriftingwith Bryn tonight, and I'm confident I'll find some good stuff for the shop. That's what I'm thinking about as I drift off to sleep.
Only to wake up to the sound of someone in the damn apartment.
I live alone, and I don't have pets, so I'm a pretty light sleeper. I wake up to the sound of the door creaking and the thud of Tex's paws on the wood floor, then going down the stairs. I sit bolt upright and tune my hearing downstairs to the living room...and I hear a woman's voice.
"Shh...good boy," the woman says. "Your dad's not home, right?"
What the fuck?
I reach over and—very quietly—grab the mace that's always close at hand, my arm aching like a reminder that I'm not invincible. Listening closely to the sound of footsteps downstairs and Tex's jingling collar, I slide out of bed and stand up, the mace in my hand and my cell phone in the other. I already have 9-1-1 dialed, and I'm just about to hit send, prepared for anything as I walk to the top of the stairs and look down toward the first floor...
… and make direct eye contact with a woman in business casual attire.
Definitely not a robber.
Or...if she is, a very well-dressed robber.
Her jaw drops, her blue eyes going wide as she stares up at me. She looks a few years older than me, close to Ryan's age, with a few silver streaks in her dark hair, and Tex doesn't seem even a little bit disturbed by her presence.
If anything, he acts like her dog.
"Oh," she says. "I um...I didn't expect anyone to be here..."
"How did you get in here?" I demand, brandishing the mace like I'm the goddamn Statue of Liberty. My thumb hovers overthe call button on the phone, even though I'm fairly certain she doesn't pose any threat to me.
She holds up her hand with a hapless smile. "I have a key," she says.
I process that more slowly than I should—but I guess I can blame the sleep.
"You must be Amanda," I say quietly.
"I didn't know anyone was here," she nods. "I just...I realized I left some stuff here and figured I would swing by while Ryan was at work."
I narrow my eyes at her. "And where's this stuff?"
"Upstairs." Her eyes sweep from left to right. "Can I come up?"
"Absolutely fucking not!"
I'm not sure exactly where the strong reaction comes from, but I suddenly feel this protective streak for Ryan—especially when his own dog has done nothing to fend off the intruder. Amanda's shoulders slump and she bites her lip.
"It's just some old sweaters," she says. "The weather's changing, and I prefer not to buy new ones."
"In the closet?" I ask.
She nods. "That's usually where one keeps them—unless he's burned them, of course. God knows what he's done with anything I left."
I swallow hard, knowing I should call him and maybe even call the police.
But she's here, and I'm half-naked, and Tex seems to think she's an alright person.
"Let me put some clothes on real quick," I say. "Sorry, I was just...sleeping."
I grab a pair of sweats and pull them on as fast as I can before shoving the mace and my phone into the pockets. Yeah, she may have a good reason to be here, but I'm not just giving up my safety net after I was mugged not even a week ago. I hearTex's collar jingle, and then Amanda appears after him, looking around with the eyes of someone who's clearly familiar with the space.
"Ah...he just put a bookshelf in front of it," she says.
"In front of what?"
