Page 33 of Throttle

I wait in anticipation. But then more knocking.

I slip into my robe and drape it over me before approaching my apartment door. Naturally, it’s locked. I would need to lack common sense to forget to lock it. I bought one of those door wedges designed for apartments. Can’t be too safe.

As I rise on my tiptoes, I touch the chilly wood with my palms and peer through the small opening.

No drug dealer. No drunken creep. Much worse.

Jasper.

He looks high. Redness conceals the whites of his eyes. It's noticeable even from the other side.

A shiver runs up my back as he grins at the peephole. “Come on, babe. Let me in.” His words are fast, yet tired. “I know you’re watching me.”

His fist collides with the door, causing me to jolt once more.

“What are you doing, Jasper? It’s the middle of the night and if you don’t leave, I’m going to call the cops.”

“I ain’t doing nothing wrong, sweetheart. You should open up so we can talk.”

Yeah, over my dead body.

“Go away. I’m dialing right now,” I bluff, clutching my phone in my hand because I know better. If I call the police on him, it will just escalate things for me. They’ll give him a slap on the wrist.

I'm not counting on any of my neighbors to save me. Most of them are his groupies. Too scared or too inebriated.

I stay silent, attempting to listen for any sign of his absence. I take another glance out and I can breathe again when I don’t see him.

Tears burn. I detest this—detest it greatly.

I lock myself in my bedroom and curl up under my covers, wishing the monsters to disappear. Jasper is an example of that, and others like him. And as long as I live here, they will remain under my bed.

“You look like hell,” Jules tells me as she rubs her growing belly.

Do I? Guess that’s what happens when a sociopath knocks on your door in the middle of the night, and you cannot fall back asleep.

My shift will be pure agony.

“I’m already showing. By the time of this wedding, I'll resemble a stranded whale.”

“You’re beautiful. You will not look like a whale. A beach ball maybe,” I joke.

“Funny. But I’m for sure carrying Charger’s son. I was not this big with Chloe. The little guy is going to pop out with muscles and tattoos. Waiting until the baby is born before having the wedding could be a good idea.”

I lazily set the liquor bottle down I was pouring. “You’ve been wanting and planning this marriage forever. If you wait until after the baby is here, you’ll be too exhausted with a newborn to even care about it and I’m pretty sure you both have been waiting since you were seventeen to spend the rest of your lives together married.”

I know she’ll regret it. For the past two months, all she talks about is marrying Charger and her pregnancy.

“Yeah, you’re right. I just wish…”

Sensing her unspoken thoughts, I touch her hand. “He’ll be there. In spirit.” My heart breaks for her knowing what she went through in losing her twin Garrett in that car accident.

Time alone cannot heal the pain she endured as a teenager.

“Sometimes I get a sense that he’s still alive somewhere,” she says with a smile and a nod, suppressing tears. “Anyway, are you going to tell me why you appear as though you were dragged to hell and back?”

I try to clear my throat, hoping to revive my energy. “It was just one of those nights. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Chloe is with my parents, Lucy’s in charge at The Fallen Star, and Charger is busy with club matters. Hang out with me, please!”