Page 116 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Neither of them answered. That should've worried me more than it did. I picked up the box, wrapped my fingers carefully around the ribbon, and stepped out into the cool violet evening, already smiling before I reached the porch steps.

Because hope...

Hope always walks a little faster than wisdom.

The walk felt shorter than it ever had before. The evening fog rolled low between the birch trees, drifting across the ground in long white ribbons that curled around my bare ankles. The bakery box was still warm against my palms, the ribbon unmoving despite the breeze.

I climbed the three worn porch steps, smoothing the front of my white dress one last time before lifting my hand. Three soft knocks. Nothing. Then… Heavy footsteps. The latch clicked. The door opened so abruptly it struck the wall with a hard crack.

Elias filled the doorway. The smile I'd been carrying all the way up the mountain caught somewhere in my throat. He was still wearing what he wore earlier today. Or at least it looked like today’s clothes. His shirt hung open at the collar, the sleeves rolled unevenly to his forearms. His dark hair was damp, as though he'd run a hand through it a hundred times without realizing. Stubble shadowed his jaw, and exhaustion carved deep lines beneath eyes that hadn't truly slept in days.

He looked... Heavy. Like every missing woman had been tied around his shoulders with rope. For a second neither of us spoke. I held out the white box.

"I made…"

"What are you doing here?"

His voice wasn't loud. It was worse. It was empty. I blinked.

"I..." I lifted the box another inch. "I made cookies."

Silence.

"They're still warm."

His eyes never moved to the ribbon and never looked at the box, not even at the dress. They stayed fixed on my face. Hard. Unmoving.

"I don't want your cookies."

The words landed with surprising force.

"I just thought…"

"I know what you thought." His jaw flexed.

The smile disappeared from my face before I even realized it had.

"I wasn't trying to…"

"Yes."

His voice sharpened.

"You were."

He stepped onto the porch. Only one step. But it closed almost all the distance between us.

"You keep showing up. I don't have time for whatever this is. I only asked you to dinner because you looked lonely. I don’t need this. I don’t fucking want this."

His breathing had become uneven. Fast. Like he was trying to outrun something inside his own head.

"You don't know me, you don't know what's happening, and you don't have a fucking clue of what kind of week this has been. Stop being friendly because I don’t care. I was being nice to you at the beginning. Nothing else."

His eyes flickered for the smallest fraction of a second.

"I can't..."

He swallowed hard.