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Kayla

Coming home after a shift at the bar is one of the best feelings in the world. I can take my boots off, strip down to an oversized shirt, and remove the minimal makeup I wear. I can just be myself. Tonight was a long night, and there were a lot of people there to see the local band Rogue booked. My brain is running on fumes.

Opening my door, I step inside and look around. Something feels off, though nothing looks out of place at first glance. I can’t put my finger on what it is, but I know someone has been inside my loft. From the front door, I can see every part of my apartment except inside the bathroom, and the door is open. I walk across the room and flick the light on, finding it empty. There’s no one here, and nothing is out of place.

I sit on the edge of my bed and look around the room, telling myself that I’m just tired and on edge. It’s been three years almost to the day that I left Aaron, yet he still gets inside my head.

Despite trying to reassure myself, the feeling remains, so I head downstairs and knock on Mabel’s door. I know it’s late—or early—but I have to know if anyone came here. She is normally awake until I get home, like the grandmother I never wanted but the universe granted me. She takes a minute to open the door; she probably didn’t hear the first knock since her television is at a deafening level.

“Sorry to bother you, but has anyone been in my loft today?”

“No, is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, I just thought I left a window open, and it’s now closed. I’m probably just tired.”

“You work so hard,” she says with a small smile. “You need to rest.”

“I will, thank you. Have a nice night.”

Mabel waves me off, and I go back upstairs.

When I walk back inside, I see it. The chair at the table is pushed in perfectly, but I never push it back in. It’s always left how it was when I stood up from it last. Someone was here and my hands instantly turn clammy.

I pull out my phone and bring up Vero’s number, but think twice. If he wasn’t the one to come here, it might cause him to spiral if he thinks I’m in danger. Reluctantly, I bring up Clay’s number, as he is no bullshit, and that’s what I need right now.

“It’s a bit late for a booty call,” he says as he picks up.

“Clay, I⁠—”

“What’s wrong?”

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

“Kayla, fucking say something. Are you okay? I’m on my way.”

“I’m okay, but I think someone was in my loft.”

“Shit, I’ll be there soon.”

The time he takes to get here feels like an eternity, but he stays on the phone with me, reassuring me that everything will be fine. Dread pools in my stomach that I will have to tell him why something this simple has freaked me out.

When I hear him pull up, I end the call and meet him at the door. He places his hand on my shoulder and looks me over.

“Do you think Vero would have come here?” I ask hopefully.

Clay shakes his head. “You know Vero. If he came here, he wouldn’t be secretive. You would have known about it.”

I look over at the chair, and he follows my line of sight. “Something feels off,” I say as he takes my hand in his. “The chair isn’t sitting right.”

He releases my hand and walks over to it. “Let me look around just to make sure.”

He walks around the loft, though really he wouldn’t see anything more than me since it’s an open space. When he slides out from under the bed, he has something between his fingers.

“What is it?”

He shrugs. “Nothing, just a piece of broken chalk.”

I feel like an idiot. Freaking out over a chair and making Clay of all people come and check.