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Bryan: Keeping his coat warm... how about his bed?
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end, and I jump when Chicken Salad releases a low, deep growl. My eyes frantically scan the front yard, then I see his car on theother side of the gate. Lights are off, but it’s his. Actually, it’smine, the one he gave to me as a gift. The one I was driving when I got pulled over after he reported it stolen. I wonder if that’s how he got past security at the neighborhood entrance? Did they think the license plate was me?
“Okay, we’re moving to the backyard.”
I stuff the phone in my shorts, and it buzzes again. I ignore it, the last thing I'll do is give him the pleasure of seeing fear on my face while I read his creepy messages.
“Come on.” I tug the leash, but she steps toward the car, still growling. “Let’s go. Now!”
She obeys me this time and allows me to lead her inside. When I glance to my apartment above the garage, the flicker of the television is seen, clear as day. How long was he watching those windows—watching me? Hurrying inside, I lock and flip the deadbolt. With my back flush to the wall, I peek outside. The headlights turn on and the car drives off quietly into the night.
My heart is racing. He found me. Fuck.
I walk out the back with Chicken Salad. Thankfully, she goes right away, and we haul ass inside. NowIhave to pee. I suppose being terrified does that. After hanging up Cam’s coat, I retreat to my living space and turn off the television. Though, it’s pointless trying to hide it when he already knows where I am.
My phone rings, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I don’t want to answer it until I see Cam’s name on the screen. Breathing a sigh of relief, I answer it and level my voice. The last thing I need to do is get him worried.
“Hey, I’m sorry about the game.”
“Yeah. Where are you?”
“In my room, why?”
“Bryan sent me a weird fucking message. Asking if I was renting my apartment above the garage.”
I can’t lie to him.
“He was here.”
“What!” he shouts, loud enough for me to pull the phone from my ear. “You let him in?”
“God, no! He was outside the gate.” I recount what happened. “He left after I went inside.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry. He was trying to scare me.”It worked.“The doors are locked, deadbolts and all.”
“I hate that he can look at a fucking game schedule and know when I’m away and when I’m not. We don’t fly home until Wednesday. I’m going to reach out to a security firm and see if we can get someone to watch the house at night.”
“That’s unnecessary. I’ll keep an eye out and stay inside. You’ve already got the alarm system. It’ll be okay.”
“Jordan, he’s a stalker. I want you to call the police and file a report.”
“That’ll just piss him off. You said my reactions are what keep him going, I’m not going to engage.”
“He showed up to the house. We’re past that. Call the police.”
33
He’s been home for two days and won’t stop pacing. It’s driving me nuts. After Bryan’s scare the other night, I called the police, gave my statement, and filed an official report—per Cam’s insistence. I contacted my lawyer, who was happy to get the ball rolling on a protective order, and a temporary filing was put in place yesterday and will hold until it’s finalized. I haven’t heard any update yet.
When I enter the kitchen, Camden’s stirring a pot on the stove, whatever it is smells amazing.
“Whatcha making?”
“Marinara.”
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be at the gym today?”
