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Cindy pulled her aside, her grip surprisingly firm. “Lucy, are you really dating that guy?” she asked in a terrified whisper.
“You know Carver?” Lucy replied, taken aback.
“It seems like you and Burt are the only two people in this diner who don’t,” Cindy said, glancing around nervously. “He’s one of the Arrow brothers. The quiet one. The worst one. Lucy, he’s dangerous.”
Lucy frowned, the words not matching the man she thought she knew.
“While it’s true Carver keeps to himself and yeah, I admit he looks a little scary on the outside to someone who doesn’t know him, he’s a sweet guy, Cindy. He saved me from a bunch of guys trying to rob my apartment,” she said.
Cindy still looked unconvinced, her eyes wide with fear.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful? The Arrow brothers … they’re trouble. Those who try getting close to them always end up dead,” Cindy said.
Lucy felt a chill run down her spine, but she forced herself to stay calm.
“I appreciate the concern, Cindy. I really do. But Carver hasn’t given me any reason to doubt him. I’ll be careful, I promise,” she reassured her friend.
Lucy had lied, though. She thought of the stain on Carver’s rug and that scream. It’s all in my mind, she reminded herself.
Cindy nodded. “All right. Just watch your back, okay?” Cindy asked.
Lucy nodded, offering a reassuring smile she didn’t entirely feel. As Cindy returned to her duties, Lucy tried to shake off the unease creeping into her mind.
She knew Carver had a mysterious side, but she couldn’t reconcile the man who had kissed her so passionately and protected her so fiercely with the dangerous figure Cindy described.
The rest of her shift passed in a blur, her thoughts constantly drifting back to Carver. By the time her shift ended, she was exhausted, both physically and mentally.
As she locked up the diner, she couldn’t help but glance around nervously, half-expecting to see Carver lurking in the shadows. She shook her head, chiding herself for being paranoid. She trusted her instincts, and they told her Carver wasn’t the monster Cindy made him out to be.
She had promised Cindy she’d be careful, and she intended to keep that promise. But she also couldn’t deny the pull she felt toward Carver, a pull that was getting harder and harder to resist.
When she finally reached her apartment, she locked the door behind her and leaned against it, taking a deep breath. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but her mind was still racing.
Maybe she could talk to Carver tonight, understand who he really was and where she stood in his life. Lucy took a shower before starting on her banana cake.
Chapter Four
With banana cake in hand, Lucy checked her appearance one last time in the hallway mirror. She smoothed her hair, took a deep breath, and made her way to Carver’s apartment.
The nervous flutter in her stomach mixed with excitement, making her steps light yet hesitant. She knew she was a little early, but she hoped Carver wouldn’t mind.
Standing outside his door, she raised her hand to knock. However, before her knuckles made contact, the door ominously swung open on its own. Lucy froze, the banana cake feeling heavier in her hands.
“Carver?” she called softly, knocking on the open door.
There was no answer. The apartment was eerily silent, and a chill ran down her spine. She knew she should wait for him to arrive, but when he didn’t appear, her mind raced with possibilities. Maybe he had rushed out for an emergency. Maybe he needed help.
Her eyes drifted downward, and she saw it again—the small bloodstain on his welcome rug. She swallowed hard, her pulse quickening.
The logical part of her mind screamed that she should return to her apartment and try again later, but her curiosity gnawed at her, refusing to let go. She wanted to prove to Cindy—and perhaps to herself—that Carver wasn’t dangerous.
Taking a deep breath, Lucy pushed the door open wider and stepped inside. The apartment was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the floor and walls. She hesitated just inside the doorway, straining to hear any sound that might indicate Carver’s presence.
“Carver?” she called again, her voice barely above a whisper.
The silence was oppressive, amplifying her heartbeat in her ears. She moved further inside, her footsteps muffled on the carpet.
The living room was sparsely furnished, with a couch, a coffee table, and a few scattered personal items. It was tidy, almost too tidy, as if someone had recently cleaned up in a hurry.
