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I’m not easily scared by things, but I’m certain it’s never a good idea to go into a creepy building with a strange man alone. That might get me killed. Then Dad would raise me from the dead just to kill me all over again for being stupid.
Parks are not stupid.
“I appreciate that, but I have to get home now.” I give him an awkward wave. “Thank you for your time!”
He scowls at me, but I don’t wait around for a response. I power walk back the way I came, trying not to break out into a run. The man probably thinks I’m insane. When I round the corner to the front of the house, I see a black sedan speeding away.
Was that his wife?
I should have flagged her down and talked my way into a tour. These people are probably super nice. I’m just paranoid because of Dad, who thinks the world is out to get me.
With a heavy sigh, I head back to my vehicle. The hair on my arms stands on end when I see the door sitting open.
I closed it.
But I didn’t lock it.
I’d just shoved the keys into my jacket pocket, all too eager to get a closer look at this place. What if that person stole my new purse?
I rush over to the vehicle, my eyes darting over to my purse, which sits exactly in the same place. Relief floods over me until I see a cut, yellow buttercup-looking flower sitting in the cup holder. Beside it is an envelope.
After looking into the back to make sure nobody is hiding, I settle into my seat, close the door, and lock it. I turn the engine over to get heat pouring out of the vents. I’m tempted to sip my coffee, but what if the person who left this stuff for me poisoned it?
Quickly, I roll down the window and dump out the contents of my cup. Once I’m safe inside again, I pick up the envelope and tear it open.
You can block me all you want on social media, but it’s not so easy to block me in reality.
- The One Who Admires You the Most
Nausea roils in my gut, souring the coffee I did manage to consume.
This creepy stalker isn’t some strange person in their mom’s basement halfway across the world.
No, this person is here.
They know what I drive, who I am, and know exactly how to find me.
This just went from annoying to terrifying.
Two
Golden: I got us an appointment for this afternoon at 4. Do you mind picking me up?
I continue to stare at the text even after she sends her address.
Golden: Please.
Me: You have a car. Remember? You hit me with it.
Golden: Fine, I’ll pick you up then. Where do you live?
In a house with two men who were almost your daddies…
Me: I’ll drive.
I glance at my watch and am annoyed to see I’ll need to go now. I’m knee-deep in wallpapering the foyer of Cedarwood Mansion, which will be a bitch to try and pick up where I left off, but Hemingford Hall is more of a priority at the moment. With a huff, I close everything up and turn off my space heater. This project will have to wait for another day.
Rather than dealing with questions from my dads, I avoid the house altogether and head straight for my car. Once inside, I have to try the engine four times before it turns over.
