I hadn’t thought of that, but the second he asks the question, my chest tightens. I’m not sure I do feel safe sleeping here, thinking that someone might have been in my house, or worse, someone is trying to torment me in some way. I mean, if there is someone behind this, then they’ve been in my house … while I was in it. That thought does not make me feel good inside, at all.
“Not really.”
“You got anyone you can call?”
I could call Taylor, though she’s probably working, considering she’s a nurse and works strange hours. That leaves Jacob. Is it too soon to call him? Would that seem weird to ask for his help? I don’t know. We’re casually dating, and I really like him, but the passion is hardly exploding out of the room. I’m certainly not ready to go “there” with him yet—would he think that if I asked him to come and stay over?
Ace must sense my hesitation, because he stands, crossing his arms and then uncrossing them. “I’ll be back in ten.”
I blink up at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’ll. Be. Back. In. Ten.”
“Why?” I whisper-hiss.
“To sleep on your damned couch until the morning, when I can sort out your security properly and figure out what’s going on.”
I gape at him. “No. No way.”
Those eyes roll to the ceiling again. “Woman, you’re testing all my patience. I’m a cop. This is what we do. If anyone can keep you safe for one night, it’s me.”
I give him a skeptical look. “You could be anyone … how do I know you’re really a cop?”
He gives me a truly scathing look. “I’ll bring my badge over, if you insist.”
“Just because you’re a cop, doesn’t mean you’re not … I don’t know … some kind of killer, or rapist, or—”
“Fuck. Me.”
I blink again. “Seriously, does it have to be you?”
He exhales, clearly trying to gather some patience. “Do you want someone here, or not? I’m happy to leave you and your sassy mouth here on your own, if that makes you feel better.”
Dammit, it doesn’t.
It really doesn’t.
I sigh. “Fine, but I’m locking my bedroom door.”
He stares at me, then shakes his head and walks out of my house muttering.
Great. Just great.
ELEVEN
I toss and turn in my bed—left to right, right to left, onto my stomach, onto my back—finally I sigh and sit up.
I can’t sleep, there is just no way it’s coming to me tonight. Not when I know Ace is out there sleeping on my couch. How is anyone supposed to concentrate with that kind of distraction? I pull my phone from the bedside table and glance down at the time. It’s just past three. I shoot a quick text to Taylor, knowing she’s at work.
H: You awake?
A minute later, a response comes through.
T: Yep. On a break. You’re a creeper texting me just as I sat down. Why are you awake so early?
H: Don’t freak out …
T: Oh my god. I’m freaking out! What! What is it! Speak!
H: Ace is on my couch.
A minute ticks by. Then another.
Then my phone rings. I answer it with a soft laugh, not because I’m actually feeling good, but because only Taylor would ring that quickly given such news.
“Tell me right now why he’s on your couch?” she demands. “I swear I’ve only got a few minutes so you better speak fast, woman!”
“He’s here because some more weird things have been happening. I found Raymond’s laptop tonight, and I know for a fact it was not where I found it—someone put it there. In fact, I don’t remember the last time I saw it. So, I didn’t really want to be left alone, and there weren’t many people we could call, so … he stayed.”
“Oh, honey, that’s awful. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, kind of. I feel a little better knowing Ace is here.”
“So he’s on your couch…”
“Yes.” I laugh. “On my couch.”
“I didn’t think you even liked him that much.”
I snort. “We didn’t really see eye to eye, but he’s a cop and he knows what he’s doing, you know? It seemed like the logical thing to do.”
“Right, logical.”
I roll my eyes, even though she can’t see it. “Be quiet. I feel safer, at least.”
She makes a concerned sound. “So you don’t think you were sleepwalking then?”
I exhale slowly. “I’m starting to think maybe I wasn’t. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. I mean, the shirt maybe, but the rest of it…”
Taylor makes another noise in her throat. “It does seem odd, doesn’t it? I just don’t understand why anyone would do something like that. I mean, they obviously have to have known you were married, and that you lost your husband, so why would they do that?”
I wonder that myself. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. To think someone is doing it on purpose makes absolutely no sense and it just keeps leading me back to the fact that maybe I am sleepwalking…”
“Possibly, but, I don’t know … it still doesn’t seem to be adding up, does it?”
I exhale and sigh. “No.”
“Anyway, honey, I’d love to talk more but I really do need to get back to work. I’ll pop around tomorrow, after I’ve had a sleep, and see how you’re doing, okay?”
“Okay, love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up the phone and climb out of bed. I tiptoe down the hall and into the kitchen, needing some water and trying not to make any noise. I glance over at the sofa, where Ace is sleeping so quietly you wouldn’t even know he was there if his big body wasn’t practically hanging off the sides. Poor guy. That can’t be comfortable. I should probably be nicer to him.
He didn’t have to stay, after all.
I study him while he’s asleep, and notice he’s not wearing that signature scowl. I wonder what happened to make him so broody? Is it just that he’s got such a demanding job and it tires him out, or is it something else? I let my eyes roam over the edges of his perfectly masculine face. He’s an exceptionally good-looking man, I can’t deny that. He’s the kind of man who sparks a fire in your soul.
He’s the kind of man who, if you were dating, you’d always want to be with, just so you could feel what he makes you feel. He’d have passion raging in your body. It’s written all over him. Raymond wasn’t like that, and come to think of it, neither is Jacob. They’re the good-looking, sweet, charming kind. Ace, he’s the dangerous kind, the fierce protector, the man of very few words.
What would it be like to be loved by someone like him? I’ve never really thought about dating a man like him. I guess I never really knew many of them. I will admit it does spark my curiosity.
“Are you goin’ to stare at me all night?”
I squeal and jump backwards at the gruff voice that sounds out of nowhere. What the hell? How did he know I was standing there looking at him? His eyes were closed. He barely moved. I blink a few times, and then say in a weak tone, “I wasn’t staring!”
Even I don’t believe it.
He probably thinks I really am crazy. Dammit.
“I can feel you,” he grumbles, opening those eyes and looking directly at me. “You always stare at people when they sleep?”
I cross my arms, trying to pull out some sass, even though my heart is thudding against my rib cage. I can’t really explain this one away, because, well, I was being a weirdo just standing there and staring at the poor guy. “I was just admiring the fact that you’re so peaceful and kind-looking when you’re sleeping. Probably something to do with the fact that you’re not speaking.”
He grunts, pushing up.
The blanket falls off, revealing that sculpted, perfectly toned body. My mouth goes dry and I try very very hard to avert my eyes. I mean, I’ve seen it before but it still renders me speechless. He has an incredible body—it’s tight, and well formed, and smooth as hell. He has tattoos d
own both his arms, one running over his shoulder and his chest. I don’t study them too closely, but they look like they might be some sort of skull design, with flames mixed in.
I swallow and turn quickly when he cocks an eyebrow at me.
I warm myself up a glass of milk and get the hell out of there before he sees the flush creeping up my cheeks.
* * *
“Seriously?” Jacob says, taking a seat at my kitchen counter. “Why didn’t you call me?”
I give him a weak smile, shifting from foot to foot as I try to give him a valid explanation as to why I didn’t call him, without offending him. “Well, to be honest, we’re only new to this, ah, dating thing, and I didn’t really think that would be okay at this point.”
He stares at me, looking slightly offended. His eyes scan over my face for a moment, before he shrugs it off and says, “I guess I understand, but you can call me if you’re in trouble. Please don’t feel like you have to hesitate.”
Right. Of course. Jacob is a nice guy, he probably wouldn’t have even thought twice if I called him asking for help. Still, Ace is a cop and it makes more sense that he was here, just in case something else happened. At least, that explanation makes me feel better for not calling Jacob, because truthfully, I just really didn’t want to, and I’m not entirely sure why that is.
“Yes, thank you. Next time, I promise to call you.”
He winks at me, seemingly having let it go. “So what is the cop going to do?”
I shrug. “He said he would give me a call later. He’s going to change the locks again, check the security on the building, just little things like that.”
Jacob’s face scrunches. “What’s wrong with the locks I put on?”
Oh dear. I didn’t think he might be offended by that.
“He just said he was going to put in bigger ones, maybe an extra latch. It’s not that your locks aren’t sufficient…”
Jacob narrows his eyes. “Are you sure he’s not making this situation out to be worse than it is?”
I shake my head in confusion. “How do you mean?”
“Well, it is highly possible that you did sleepwalk. I know the laptop is a little above and beyond, but I don’t want people putting ideas into your head, or making you think something that might not be right. Scaring you excessively might not be helping matters.”
He’s right, to a point. I’ve thought over and over how it just doesn’t make sense that someone would do this, but I also don’t understand how I could do all those things sleepwalking. I’m at war with myself, wondering if I’m making a big deal out of nothing, or if I’m not making a big enough deal about something serious. I honestly don’t know.
“Have you considered at least going to see a therapist?”
A therapist.
I did consider it, but what can they do for sleepwalking? Give me drugs to knock me out so heavily I can’t do it? No, that wouldn’t make me feel good. I don’t think that’s going to solve anything.
“I have considered that.”
His eyes scan my face. “I want you to do whatever makes you feel safe, Hart. If you feel like having the cop checking it all out does that, then I’m fine with it. I just don’t want anyone to make a mountain out of a molehill … you have enough going on in your life.”
That’s sweet. But, now I’m questioning myself. He has a point. Am I scaring myself for nothing?
Am I making too big a deal out of this?
Dammit. My head hurts.
“I mean”—Jacob laughs lightly,—“you can be a little clumsy. You did leave your keys in your car last week, and you have a habit of forgetting things.”
He’s right.
I do.
I feel uneasy now. Wondering if I am taking this too far.
“You’re right. It’s just right now, I feel uneasy…”
He smiles and raises a hand in a casual gesture. “Of course. You do whatever feels safe. I don’t like the idea that someone might have been in your apartment either, so I’m glad you’re being cautious.”
I shudder. “I’m also trying to figure out why anyone would even want to get into my apartment. It makes no sense to me.”
He shakes his head. “No, it certainly doesn’t. Not at all. What time is he changing the locks?”
“He said he is working long hours today, but will come and do it in the next few days. He’s waiting for the locks to arrive. I’m okay with that. I’ll double-check all the locks when I go to sleep each night until then.”
Not that that makes me feel any better, because if someone has been getting in, they have been doing it regardless of the locks. I think maybe I should check the windows, too. Ace mentioned putting locks on them. We’re not on ground level, but I don’t think it would be hard for someone to climb up the fire escape and pry one of them open. But to do that without making any noise? I doubt it. I make a mental note to have a look when Jacob leaves, just to be sure.
“Do you need me to stay with you for a few days?”
My instinct is that I don’t want him to stay, which I’m not sure is the right answer. I really like Jacob, I truly do, but we’re only casually seeing each other right now. I’m not even sure you could classify us as being anything but friends who are seeing where it goes. We’re not in a relationship, and I’m not ready to be, not at this stage at least. I don’t want to offend him, I care about him a lot, but sleeping over seems like it’ll be putting too much pressure where it doesn’t need to be. Sometimes I feel like I’m not giving as much as he is. Maybe I need to put more effort in. Try harder. Can I truly say I’m not ready, when I’m not truly putting my best foot forward?
So I give him my best, casual smile and say, “Thanks, but Taylor is going to come and stay.”
That’s a valid enough explanation.
He nods, giving me a smile, seemingly unfazed. “Well, please call if you need anything. Honestly, I’m worried about you.”
He’s a good man. I walk over, reach out, and squeeze his arm. “Thank you, but I’ll be fine.”
He sighs and looks at his watch. “Okay then. I’d love to stay, but I have to get going. You’d never believe I designed a whole package for a client, only for her to change her mind on the colors at the last minute.”
“Oh, that’s awful! You’ll have to show me some of your work sometime. I’d love to see it.”
In fact, I don’t even know where he lives.
Probably a good thing at this stage.
He nods, flashing me a grin. “Absolutely. I’ve got to run. Stay safe, lock that door, and just be careful of that cop. He makes me uneasy.”
I blink.
Ace makes him uneasy? That’s strange.
Ace is a lot of things, but he doesn’t seem like a bad person.
It’s interesting he gives Jacob a bad vibe. I make note of that, too.
“I will. Thank you, Jacob.”
He stands and walks over, brushing his lips across my temple. “I’ll call you later.”
He leaves my apartment and I lock the door behind him.
Then I check it again, just to be sure.
I’m not crazy … right?
TWELVE
Stretching, I let my eyes flutter open. Sunlight is pouring through my bedroom window, past the curtains, shining across my bed. It’s warm enough to have woken me from my sleep. I must have slept in longer than I thought, because I’m usually up before the sun. Groaning, I roll my stiff body from the bed and throw my feet onto the ground, standing up. I adjust my cotton shorts and tank, moving them from the off position they crept into as I was sleeping.
Coffee.
Stat.
As I walk out into the hall and down into the kitchen, my eyes flick to the door—the locks are all in place. I exhale and move towards my coffeepot, but stop dead when I see a cup on the counter. My heart starts racing immediately, and for a moment, I just stare at it. This can’t even be passed off as maybe Jacob having stopped in and left me a coffee, or Taylor, or even Ac
e.
Because the cup the coffee is in is the one Raymond gave me for our first wedding anniversary. It’s bright pink and has big, bold writing that says YUMMY FUTURE MOMMY. We had started trying for a baby after we were married, and so he purchased it for me so I would smile every morning. It has been packed away for years. In fact, I had nearly forgotten about it.
With trembling knees, I move towards the counter and stare down at the cup, reaching out and grazing my fingers over it. It’s still hot! My eyes move to the left, where a note is neatly folded beside it. No. No. No. With blurred vision and shaking fingers, I reach down and pick up the note. I know, even before I unfold it, what it’ll say. It was the same thing every single morning. I kept a few of the notes, because I loved them so much.
My darling Hartley,
A coffee to wake you, two kisses to keep you thinking of me, and three hours until I hear your sweet voice.
Have a great day, my sweet.
R xx
I can’t keep it in—a sob rises up and releases loudly from my throat. I tremble and clutch the side of the counter, scrunching the note in my hand. My sob is one of fear and sadness. I’m not crazy. I know that now. There is simply no way I would have done this. Which means someone is doing this to me. Someone is trying to get to me, using the one thing I hold dearest—my husband.
My eyes flicker around the house, and I’m suddenly filling with panic.
What if someone is in here now?
I don’t think, I just turn and run to the door, tears streaming down my face as I fumble with the locks, getting them open before swinging the door open so hard it slams against the doorstop. Then I go charging out and down the hall. I reach Ace’s door, and I pound. I don’t know what the time is. I don’t care. I simply pray he’s home. I’m terrified. I can feel it right down to my bones, clutching my stomach like an iron fist.
The door swings open and Ace stands in the space, wearing a suit, his hair still wet from a shower. His eyes drop to me, then to the note in my hand, and he asks in a calm, but edgy, voice, “Hartley, what’s wrong?”