We stare at one another for a long, painful moment, until the bile running up my throat propels me into action. I make it around the corner before I vomit all over the pavement.
What the hell am I doing? Why does this guy scare me so much?
I run back to the Jeep, envelope in hand, and hop inside.
I crank the engine and edge the car toward the street. He’s not there.
I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that leaving June Lake and the surrounding area will ensure one thing; I won’t ever have to see him again.
Throwing myself into dinner is the only thing that settles my nerves. I marinate the steaks, chop veggies, clean and prep the potatoes. I won’t have the boys find me curled up on the couch like my last interaction with Reid. If anything, they’ll go into over-protective mode, and my plans for a smooth, steak-filled break up will implode.
It’s already going to be hard enough.
I don’t want to break up with
the guys, but after talking to Dex and the boys, I realize I am not ready to take on the challenges of this relationship outside this house. It’s too soon. We’re too fragile. Dexter still struggles with some of the shared aspect. How would he handle it in public? I certainly can’t bed hop at the Ranger Lodge.
I finish the glass of wine I’d poured to settle my nerves and grab the lighter off the counter. It’s time to start the grill.
I hadn’t realized how dark it’d gotten until I go out the back door. It’s a moonless night and the hills are barely visible in the distance.
I flip on the light and it doesn’t turn on.
“Shit.” Must’ve burned out. I turn on my phone to use as a flashlight. I can find a bulb in a minute.
I step outside and simultaneously hear the crunch of glass and feel the sharp blades cut through the sole of my foot. I yelp, dropping both the phone and the lighter, blood already dripping from my foot.
I grip the door frame, wincing through the pain. I’m scared to put pressure down on my foot in case there’s still glass in the wound, but it’s too dark to see anyway.
I shimmy down the wall and feel around for the phone, my finger seeking the square device. Instead they brush across the warmth of another hand.
“Who is that?” I ask.
“Who do you think, sweetheart?” Reid’s smug voice cuts through the dark. “I saw you downtown—don’t pretend like you didn’t see me. Figured I’d follow you out here to see if you needed any help finishing up the house. Looks like you’ve done a good job without me.”
“Get out of here, Reid.”
“Why? You’ve already proved you don’t have the guts to go to the police. Your boyfriend—or boyfriends—I can’t quite figure out what’s going on there, aren’t here. Don’t worry. I checked. We’re all alone, and I work fast.” He grins, and I can see the faint outline of his white teeth in the dark. “Unless you’d rather me go slow.”
He pushes me into the house, and I cry out, stumbling over my injured foot. Blood tracks across my sparkling, freshly waxed floor. I hop on one foot, making it to the kitchen. I look up and see a picture of myself tacked on the refrigerator, it’s me, Jensen, and Jared, at a convention. Their adorable smiles make me think of the Rangers, and that makes me think about how they would never, ever let an asshole like this get away with trying to destroy their lives.
My default lately has been fear. Soul-crushing fear, but anger wells up inside of me—it’s so much greater than the fear. This time he’s not just fucking with me, but he’s fucking with my house. My parent’s house. The house I put two months of my soul into, the house I let the Rangers move into. The house I fell in love in.
I lean against the counter seeking balance. “Do you know how much time I spent getting this house ready? Cleaning this floor? Get the fuck off my property, Reid, or you will regret existing.”
He sneers, reaching for his belt. “I’d like to see you try.”
I fumble behind me, knocking into the cutting board, feeling for something, anything to protect myself with. I fall down on my foot, slipping on the blood. I turn, and cry out when he slams me forward, stomach into the jutting counter edge, his hands on my ass.
I reach for the only thing I see.
A knife.
I close my eyes and channel my inner Winchester, mustering all my strength and rage. Ignoring my foot, the blood and the pain, I manage to turn, pushing Reid back. I catch him at a point of weakness, focused on removing his pants. His disgusting dick hangs from his pants. I hold out the knife.
His eyes widen, and he holds out his hands. “Woah, calm the fuck down.”
“No, you calm the fuck down. Get your pants back on and get the fuck out of my house before I cut that right off your body.”