Page 72 of Show Me

Despite everything, a small laugh escapes me. I hand him the pillow and blanket. “Fine. You can take the couch.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His eyes meet mine again, and my stomach drops. The words settle deep inside me, making me want things that won’t happen.

Xavier is here to protect me tonight, not because he’s seen me as the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with. I won’t settle for less.

I pause in the hallway as a limb brushes against the living room window, causing a screeching sound. “I’m leaving the door open.”

He stands in the middle of the room with the blanket in his hand. “Good.”

I crawl into bed without changing, the house still too unfamiliar after what happened. The open doorway lets a strip of light stretch across the floor, proof that I’m not alone.

From the living room, I hear the sofa shift as he lies down. Squirt drops heavily beside him. The motion light clicks once more, then goes still.

For the first time since I saw my name on that box, sleep doesn’t feel like surrender. It feels like he stayed.

Interlude

The Watcher

The motion light clicks on. White light spills across the backyard, cutting through the darkness. New. That wasn't there last night.

A step back into the shadows comes. The space between the maple tree and the fence is familiar. Comfortable.

The yard has changed. The light. The door. The back entrance sits tighter in the frame now. Someone fixed it.

The kitchen light glows through the window. A large shape moves across the room. Not her. The man. He's been here all evening. Staying.

Attention settles on the house. The curtains stay closed now. They didn’t before. Someone told her to be careful.

A branch sways overhead. The motion light flashes on again. Another step backward. Waiting. The light shuts off.

Darkness returns. Better. Closer.

The siding smells faintly of fresh wood. The driveway catches the moonlight at the same angle. Some things haven’t changed.

Inside, movement catches the eye. The woman. She crosses the kitchen, auburn hair pulled over one shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

A familiar sight. Watched countless times. The house settles again. Quiet. A few minutes later, the living room light dims. The man's silhouette lowers onto the couch.

Still there. Still staying. The routine has changed. The woman used to be alone once the man left. Alone was easier.

A longer wait follows. No rush. People are careful after something scares them. Careful means they remember.

For a while. Then life gets busy. Doors get unlocked. Lights get forgotten. Routines return. They always do. That's when mistakes happen.

Inside, the house goes dark. Outside, the watching continues. The waiting has a purpose now.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Xavier

The house is quiet when I wake. Not the heavy quiet from last night. The kind that sits on your chest. But something lighter, like the place is starting to settle back into itself.

Squirt is pressed against the leg of the couch, warm and solid, a soft grunt slipping out as he shifts, one hoof twitching against the cushion.

The hallway light remains on. Her door is still open. I push myself upright, the blanket sliding off my shoulders, and sit there, listening.

Nothing moves. No footsteps, no sudden creaks. Just the steady hum of the refrigerator and the faint rattle of the motion light outside when the wind catches it.