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“Whoa,” Tyler said from the couch. “What’s his problem?”
She looked over at the three men. She’d forgotten they were there. She swiped at her eyes in frustration, hating that they were seeing her cry. “I should go.”
“Hang on.” Blake popped to his feet and draped an arm around her. He pushed a glass full of alcohol into her hand. “Forget about him. He’s always been a pretentious asshole. You don’t need him. You can hang with us. “
She stared down into the clear liquid that smelled like lighter fluid. It made her stomach turn, but when he tipped the glass toward her mouth, she drank.
And she drank.
And the night blurred…
* * *
Present Day
Veronica squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories. But they were too strong. Too vivid. She could feel their hands on her again and the cold press of the gun against her temple when she tried to fight them off. Could hear their laughter in her ears. Could taste the bile rising in her throat?—
A wet nose pressed against her hand, and she opened her eyes, staring down at the two dogs in shock. Rebel’s eyes were direct and intense. Alfie’s were soft and sad.
Connelly hadn’t taken them with him.
Damn him.
She stroked a hand over Rebel’s blunt wedge of a head, then scooped Alfie up and buried her face in his soft fur.
Rebel whined and nosed her hand again as if sensing her distress. Alfie squirmed in her arms, nuzzling against her neck.
She held them close, taking comfort in their warmth. They were the only living beings she trusted anymore. The only ones who didn’t make her feel like she was losing her mind.
She wondered how long it would be before even they couldn’t stand being cooped up with her anymore. Rebel had already run away from her once. How long before Alfie abandoned her, too? And how long before Connelly gave up and let her push him away for good?
Or maybe he already had.
The thought made her heart ache.
She didn’t want to be alone anymore, but she didn’t know how to be around people without hyperventilating.
Veronica spent the rest of the day in bed with the dogs. She barely moved, lost in thoughts of what she had lost. The sun began to set, casting a warm orange light on the walls. She realized she hadn’t eaten anything all day, and her stomach grumbled. She sat up, gently pushing the dogs aside, and made her way to the kitchen. She opened the fridge door and was greeted with an unappetizing array of leftovers. She sighed and closed the door. She didn’t feel like eating anything.
But she should probably feed the dogs. She rummaged through the dog supplies Connelly had brought with him and the ones Hank Firestone had left for Alfie.
She dumped kibble into each dog’s bowl and watched Rebel devour hers in big, gulping bites while Alfie nibbled at his. She let them outside, praying that neither one ran off. They didn’t. While they both did their business, she glanced over at the spot where Connelly had slept last night, half-expecting to see him there again.
He wasn’t.
Of course he wasn’t.
She’d told him to leave.
The dogs came back inside and followed her back to bed. She curled around Rebel’s muscular body while Alfie nuzzled into the crook of her legs behind her knees. She closed her eyes, hoping to drift off to sleep. But her mind wouldn’t let her. It was too occupied with thoughts of Connelly. She knew he cared for her, but she couldn’t let him in. Not after what had happened to her. And not after what he did. He’d just use anything she told him as fodder for his next novel. How could he ever expect her to trust him again?
She heard a noise outside her bedroom window and bolted upright, heart racing. Rebel’s ears pricked up, listening to the same noise that had caught her attention. Alfie was oblivious, still sleeping soundly.
Veronica held her breath and listened for it again, but all she heard was the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. She hesitated, then got up and walked over to the window, peering out through the slits in the blind. The sun had set, and she couldn’t see anything other than the vague dark shapes of the forest, but still, the hair on the back of her neck stood up.
She shut the blinds and crawled back into bed, pulling Rebel close.
She never should’ve sent Connelly away.
