The Nice Guy Next Door (When In Waverly 1)

Jameson

I honestly didn’t think that Millie would notice that I was avoiding her so quickly. It has only been a few days. Four to be exact. I know because I’ve missed talking to her, texting her, and watching her go about her days.

It has been difficult to avoid her while living next door. Yesterday evening, I happened to glance out the window while she was pulling her trash can to the curb. She was wearing my favorite t-shirt she owns, the one she was wearing the night Tess had her baby: a T. rex trying to read a book. Who comes up with these things? She had her thick-framed glasses on, and her hair was a riotous mess piled on the top of her head. She looked adorable.

Then, this morning while I was sitting in my truck, she came out to leave for work. Lo had left in her own car a few minutes before, and it appeared that Millie was running late. She ran out with her purse hanging on her shoulder, coffee in hand, and a bag full of what appeared to be craft supplies falling from her other shoulder. She placed her mug on top of her car, but it slid off onto the ground and half of its contents spilled on her shoes. She looked like she wanted to cry.

And now, here she stands in front of me, looking as angry as a bull. If she weren't so small, that look on her face would be terrifying. Instead, she just looks cute. I force myself to suppress the smile threatening to break free. We’ve already had one spat over me smiling at her when I was in trouble.

“Don’t insult my intelligence by lying to me. Is it because I cuddled with you? Did I make you uncomfortable?” she asks in a mock whisper. Her face and neck turn bright red, and I force back the laughter that’s threatening to break free. I didn’t think that she would have assumed that I was avoiding her because of something she’d done.

She has everything wrong. I loved every second I got to spend cuddling with her. I wish we could spend every night for the rest of our lives cuddled together like we were that morning. But she doesn’t see me like that. According to Millie, I’m just a friend.

Still, she deserves the truth. I can’t put her in the path of a crazy stalker, especially when I don’t know who the stalker is. Whoever it is could be watching me talk to her right now. They could be following me around town. I don’t want to risk this person seeing me with her. I don’t want them to know that she’s someone important to me, even if I’m not important to her.

“Look, it’s not because of you. I’ve been keeping my distance because of the person leaving me threats. I should have told you.” I watch her face as she digests the information. Her hands drop from her hips. Her facial expression goes from confused to relieved and finally lands on worried.

I don’t want her to be scared, and I hate that she feels vulnerable because of me. Smaller towns like this are supposed to feel safe. I watch as she looks around the street. Her face is strained in thought.

“What’s going through your head?” I ask.

“I just feel like this month here in Waverly has been the strangest of my life. My neighbor is being stalked, a baby was born in my living room, and my little sister punched someone at school today.”

“Lo punched someone?!” Realizing I yelled that way too loudly, I cover my mouth with my fist for a second. “I’m going to need you to tell me all about that.”

“It was that boy, Daniel Ashby. He’s been a jerk to her since we got here, and she cracked today. She gave him a black eye,” she says. Most people would look disappointed while talking about their charge attacking someone, but there’s a hint of pride in Millie’s eyes and voice.

Millie is a mystery to me. She’s quiet and reserved when you meet her, but once you know her, she’s spunky and quirky and colorful. Like right now, she’s standing in front of me in a yellow flowy skirt and heels with her hair flowing all around her, excited that her sister gave a boy a black eye. But she’ll never allow herself to admit out loud that she’s proud and excited. It’s something you would have to observe.

Even her name is a mystery. I observe her face and imagine calling her different names. None fit so well as Millie.

“Is it Emily?” I ask out of the blue.

She tilts her head to the side, and for a second, she looks confused. Understanding dawns on her, and she smiles devilishly. “So, Pops still hasn’t spilled the beans! I knew I liked that man. I’ll have to go visit him again.”

“So, is that a no, then?” I was so sure that it was going to be Emily. The name suits her well enough. She has such a sweet face, and Emily is just about the sweetest name there is, besides Millie.

“Keep trying,” she says in a sing-song voice. “Well, I’m going to go take off these heels. Enjoy the rest of your workout.” She backs up toward her yard and waves a hand good-bye.

“Hey, make sure you’re using your security system I installed for you, okay?” I call out to her. I doubt whoever’s stalking me is going to go after her, but it’s better to be safe. She nods her head. I watch her until she walks into her house, wishing that she would stay and talk to me longer.

It’s my day off, and I’ve committed myself to figuring out who has been sending me all of these threatening messages. I’ve gone through a ton of paperwork this morning, getting names of people who have gone to prison after I arrested them. There really aren’t that many. Being a state trooper is a lot different than working for a city police department. We don’t come into contact with hardened criminals as often.

There’s a man who killed someone after drinking and driving. He had two prior DWI’s, so he got time after that. There is also a drug dealer and a few people I stopped who had warrants that ended up with them serving time in prison.

The worst one I can remember is this man that I pulled over for speeding several years ago. He was going over 100 MPH down the highway in the middle of the night. Of course I pulled him over. The sight I saw when I got to the window was one of the most shocking things I had ever seen. There was a woman sitting in the passenger’s seat, wearing a scarf around her neck and massive sunglasses that covered half of her face. It was ninety degrees and completely dark outside. I could see tears pouring down her cheeks, and there was a dark bruise on her forehead.

I knew right away what I was dealing with. I asked them both to step out of the car and got them separated so I could question them. The man, of course, protested every step of the way. He wasn’t dumb enough to think I would overlook the obvious signs of his abuse. I questioned him first, asking why he was driving so fast, where he was going, what he was going to be doing there, and why his companion was crying. He answered each question as if they were ridiculous and unfounded.

When I asked her the same questions, her answers differed from his. She gave me the truth. The woman had two black eyes and marks around her neck from his abuse. She had tried to flee from him in the middle of the night to go to her mother, but he caught her. He was trying to take her away from her family so she would have nowhere to run.

He went to prison for assault and battery and abduction. I had never been happier to see someone locked up. I’ve silently checked in on the woman a few times since then. She’s living far away from here, and she seems happy.

I still can’t believe this guy is already out of prison. Sometimes it baffles me how messed up the justice system is. I hope this isn’t the guy harassing me. But my gut is telling me that it’s him. He’s the only one psychotic enough to do something like this.