Page 102 of Show Me

“I saw Brent drive by.”

Emily’s head snaps up. “Why?”

“I don’t know. It was right before I found the package. He didn’t stop. Just drove to the end of the street, backed up, and turned around.”

Bella’s mouth tightens. “That’s not normal.”

“No.” I force a breath into my lungs. “But it doesn’t mean anything.” The words feel thin the second they leave my mouth. Nothing means anything without proof.

Emily studies me. “Did you call Xavier?”

My chest tightens again. “No.”

Bella tilts her head. “Why not?”

I shrug, shoulders stiff. “He’s busy. And this isn’t… his problem.”

They exchange a look I don’t want to read too closely.

“Are you two–” Bella starts.

“No,” I cut in, too fast. “Nothing’s going on.” Not a lie. Not really. “I know what kind of guy he is.” I meet their eyes this time. “He’s not built for anything serious, and I’m not about to pretend I expected him to be.”

Brent’s voice echoes in my head. ‘Men like him don’t stay.’ I press my lips together.

Emily’s expression softens. “No one’s saying that.”

“I am.” I tip my chin up. “And I’m fine with it.”

Bella reaches for the twine, fingers working it loose. “You want me to open it?”

I hesitate. Then nod. The paper crinkles as she lifts the lid. Inside sits a small ceramic pig. Hand-painted. Delicate. Bright-eyed.

Nobody says anything. Then Bella reaches into the box again. "There’s a note."

My stomach drops. She unfolds the small piece of paper. The smile disappears from her face.

"What does it say?" Emily looks over Bella’s shoulder.

Bella’s face pales before reading it aloud. “This one reminded me of Squirt. He looked lonely.”

The room goes silent. My throat tightens. Emily’s eyes lift to mine. Not threatening. Personal. Way too personal. Because Squirt wasn’t at the gym. Or on social media. Squirt wasn’t something a stranger should know about. And the ceramic pig feels a lot less innocent.

Emily exhales. “That’s not random.”

No. It isn’t.

Bella sets it down, like it might break if handled wrong. “You’re not staying here alone tonight.”

I don’t argue. Because the house no longer feels safe; it feels watched. And somewhere out in the dark, someone is studying exactly where the lights don’t reach.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Xavier

I’m at the shop before anyone else. Lights off. Air cold. A stillness that does nothing to settle the unease in my head. I’ve had enough silence to last a lifetime. Too much time to think. Too much time shutting down thoughts before they could materialize into something I didn’t want to consider.

I flip the switch by the door and drop my keys onto the counter, the sound sharper than it should be in the empty room. Didn’t sleep much. Didn’t try that hard to.