Like wanting Maria when I knew damn well wanting her and needing her are two completely different things. It was why taking a step back from her was so easy because I knew wanting her wasn’t enough for me.
I needed to need her.
And I didn’t.
I watched out my windshield, waiting to see the intruder, but night was falling quickly, and not a soul was in sight. I had the perfect view of the half-finished house. The driveway was still red dirt, and there wasn’t a mailbox yet. The frame of the house was built, so the new roof just went on. It was one of the smaller homes in this subdivision, and it was already up for sale. No one knew this, but I had my eye on it while I was building the damn thing. I noticed myself personalizing it and wanting to make it my own.
And that was when it hit me; I needed to move out of my sister’s house with her husband and son. I wasn’t needed there anymore, and it was time for me to move on with my life. I had issues letting go, I wasn’t blind to it, but it was fucking hard. How did I cut the strings off from someone I took care of most of her life?
There wasn’t a book or ‘How To’ pamphlet. I just had to do it.
So why not buy a little two-bedroom, two-bathroom house? There was no harm in that. It was well in my budget, the community was nice, the school district was great, and it wasn’t that far from Lucy. It was perfect.
Houses went quickly in this new area, so I had to act fast. I typed out an email on my phone to Godrick and told him what I wanted to do. My finger hovered over the send button as I debated. If I sent it, he would know that I was thinking about moving, which meant he was going
to tell Lucy, and I hadn’t even told her yet.
Fuck it. Better him than me.
I pressed send, and right as I lifted my eyes back to the windshield, I saw a small figure walking across the grass. I just had that grass sod installed today, and of course, someone just trampled all over it.
My hand clenched the door handle until my knuckles, somehow managed, to turn a lighter shade of white than my already pale skin. I didn’t know why something as simple as someone walking over freshly laid grass really ticked me off. I had no idea it was a pet peeve, but there I was, ready to commit murder for something as trivial as grass.
Fuck me. I needed to get out more.
I decided to give the imposter a few minutes to get settled and comfortable. I didn’t want to mess up someone’s routine, and the mental state of the person in my house right now could be anything and everything but stable. Using caution, yet remaining kind and caring were key here.
“Fucking hell, Logan. You sound like a self-help CD people listen to on their ride to work,” I shook my head at my own ridiculous statement and rubbed my hands over my face to get my head on straight. Sleep. I needed sleep.
And to get laid.
Fuck, it had been so long since I had been with a woman that a soft breeze could blow by and make me hard.
“Now is not the time for that, Logan. Deep breaths, get your mind off what isn’t important, and concentrate on what is.”
There I go again.
Fifteen minutes had passed when I stole a glance at the clock on the dashboard. That was plenty of time for someone to get settled. The plastic bag beside me crinkled as I grabbed it. I pulled the handle of my truck door and jumped down. My feet hit the pavement, and as much as I wanted to slam the door, I didn’t want to give my location away or have the person in my house run away and get skittish, so I lightly shut it with a soft click.
Double checking the bag in my hand, I made sure the Coke and leftover steak I made for myself last night were still in there. Where it could have gone, I didn’t know. Maybe it would have spilled out of the bag, grew legs, and disappeared, but I just wanted to make sure. It was a crazy thought, but no matter how annoyed I was at the stranger in my home; I still cared for their well-being.
I took the first step toward the brick and mortar home, and I reached back with my left hand to make sure I had my knife. I had no idea what could happen once I stepped foot in there, and protecting myself was the most important thing.
The closer I got, the guiltier I felt. The sky was cloudy with a bad storm brewing tonight. It was supposed to pour. Fuck, of course I’d feel guilty about someone I didn’t know staying in my house. My boots hit the red clay of the driveway that would eventually get paved. The garage door was not installed, so until the house was complete, anyone could come and go as they pleased. I walked through the freshly painted room and stealthily made my way through the hole in the wall where a regular door would be.
I bypassed the pieces of wood on the floor, stepping around them to not make any noise. To my right, the kitchen was bare and covered in a thick sheet of sawdust. There were no appliances yet, and only half the cabinets were installed, but it was coming along. It looked like home, and if I didn’t get this house, I’d be devastated. It had everything I wanted.
Minus the squatter.
I peeked my head in the living room, darting my eyes from side to side, and unclipped the knife on my belt. The crown moldings were still my favorite part of this room. Oh, and the wood-burning fireplace. It didn’t sit in the middle of the wall like most; it was in the left corner of the room where the main wall and sidewall met. It was painted a light grey color, my choice, of course because it was better than white, but still showed that I had style.
After deeming the living room and kitchen clear, I stepped into the hallway and heard something coming from the master bedroom.
My sanctuary.
The one room in this entire house that was almost done. It had high tray ceilings, so part of the ceiling was deeper than the rest, giving it a step effect. It was an extra-large room with a gigantic walk-in closet, but that wasn’t my favorite part.
It was the bathroom.