Page 154 of Trailer Trash

“I don’t think you should look for him. He’s dangerous right now. You can’t trust a single word from his mouth.”

I frown and shrug. “Well... I love him, too.”

It’s a confession. I don’t say it to be mean. I just want her to know I can’t walk away easily.

“If you know where he is, can you please tell me?”

She sighs and shakes her head. “I don’t know. Sorry.”

There’s a guardedness in her demeanor. I don’t trust her. I think she’s seen him.

Suddenly, she rests her hand on my shoulder. “Be grateful it ended when it did and not after a decade of loving him. The saddest thing I’ve endured is watching him get worse. Run. Run away from him. There’s no happy ending when it comes to Asher or Killian.”

It is hard to explain why I am thinking this, but I still disagree with my therapist. Every warning becomes another reason I should’ve stayed. Dr. Jannis would call that self-blame. I call it abandoning him when he needed me.

“I never cheated on him,” I say. “It didn’t work out for you two, but maybe we could be happy together. Maybe there is a chance I could save him.”

She opens the classroom door and looks back.

“You think I made him this way. I didn’t. He was falling apart before I cheated, and loving him couldn’t put him back together.”

The door shuts, leaving me standing there, wondering if I am hunting for someone worse than Evan.

42

Harlow

I rest my head on an old throw pillow, my hands folded in prayer beneath my cheek. The old couch is lumpy, but I will never sleep in my bedroom again. Not until I solve the camera mystery and that nightmare clown is proven truly a figment of my imagination. Regardless, I should be able to sleep here — in the living room. Work was exhausting. I was on my feet all twelve hours of my shift.

Yet, I am wide awake.

I check the clock.

Seven AM.

The sunrise hasn’t arrived. The second gold rays hit my curtains, it’ll make sleep impossible. Even with blackout curtains, I’ll feel it behind my eyelids, bleeding in at the edges.

Please, God. Let me go to sleep.

Car brakes sound. Huh.

Those seem close. Whoever is here must be visiting a neighbor.

A car door shuts.

Silence.

Then—

Creak.

The gentle noise was so soft, I almost missed it.

Was that the front door? Oh, my God. Did I not lock my door?

I’m frozen.

A footstep.