Lillian

Present

I grab the bottle of pills I placed on the nightstand and take two of them out. Then I grab the glass of water and hold them in front of her. “There you go.”

Daisy sighs. “Do I really have to take those?”

I raise a brow and cock my head. Really? She’s going to try this again? “Yes, and you know why.”

“I know,” she says, swallowing. “But they taste nasty.”

“I’m sorry, honey. I would make them taste better if I could, but I can’t. Tell you what, pinch your nose closed while you swallow. Then it won’t be as bad.”

She frowns but grabs the pills nonetheless. “Fine.”

She takes the glass of water from my hand too and chugs down the pills. Pinching her nose, she clenches her eyes shut as if she’s having trouble downing them. Still, the thirst-quenching sound she makes when she’s done tells me it wasn’t quite as bad.

“Done!” She hands back the glass with glowing eyes.

“Good job.” I run my fingers through her hair and press a kiss to her cheeks. Then I grab her teddy bear and tuck it under the sheets with her. “Time to sleep.”

“Wait. Where’s Mr. Puddlewuddle?”

I narrow my eyes. “Excuse me, who?”

“The blue penguin I got!” She folds her arms. “Did you throw him away?”

“No, of course not, honey,” I say. For a second there, I wish I had. But then she’d probably hate me.

“I want him to be here too,” she says, putting all her effort into her pout.

“All right, I’ll take him out of your drawer,” I say, rolling my eyes as I fetch the stuffed animal.

“Yay!” she squeals, clapping her hands. She pulls away the sheets and pats the bed. “Mr. Puddlewuddle can sleep right here next to me.”

There’s a slight pang in my stomach, but I ignore it as I place the toy where she wants it. I don’t understand how she can get so attached to something she’s had for just a day. Then again, children often do when they feel like something’s missing.

I let out a sigh and kiss her again on the forehead this time as I tuck her in. “Sleep tight, honey.”

“Wait,” she says again as I’m about to leave. “What about the card that was in the mailbox?”

I pause, clenching the doorframe. My lungs feel constricted.

She knows. She saw it. A smile creeps onto my lips. Of course, she did.

I’d hoped I was good at hiding things, but apparently, I’m not.

“It was for me, wasn’t it?” she asks. I’m surprised she noticed. “Can I read it?”

“No,” I bark. I don’t know why I’m being so resolute. So mean. Maybe I’m jealous of her ability to see him as anything but dangerous.

“Sorry, honey,” I say, glancing over my shoulder, trying to be milder. “Maybe another time.”

“Tomorrow?” she asks as I’m about to close the door.

I close my eyes and let out a final sigh. “Maybe. Ask me again tomorrow.”

* * *

I lie awake in bed for hours.

This is how it always goes. How it’s been for years.

I don’t want to use the sleeping pills that I got from the doctor because then it feels like defeat, and I don’t like to give in to defeat. But they’re staring at me from my nightstand. If I don’t take them, I don’t get enough sleep. And being a cranky bitch to your child isn’t really all that either. So after a few more minutes of simmering in my own stew of self-hatred, I grab the bottle anyway.

Right as I open the bottle and throw two pills onto my hand, I hear some noise. I put the pills back and place the bottle down, then get out of bed. I quickly check on my baby girl to make sure she’s all right. That’s when I hear the noise again.

It’s metallic. Like someone’s messing with the door lock. And it’s coming from downstairs.

In my pajamas, I make my way downstairs, clutching the bannister. The noise gets louder and louder, so I hurry to the closet in the hallway and grab my shotgun. It’s the only protection I have, and boy am I glad I bought the damn thing.

I snatch the box with ammo from the shelf and open it with trembling hands, trying not to panic. I’ve only done this twice, but I manage to put the bullets in properly before I move closer to the door. The noise has stopped, and no one is messing with the front door, at least not that I can see. Did I imagine it? Or maybe it’s the shoddy door and just needs to be replaced. I mean, it is windy outside.

Still, I gotta make sure, so I turn the lock and push open the door. Shivering, I take a step outside and look around, holding the shotgun tight.

Suddenly, something moves in the corner of my eye, and I immediately point my shotgun at it.

“Who’s there? Show yourself!” I yell.

A figure steps out into the light that shines right underneath my porch.

There’s no mistaking it. The old leather jacket. The square, chiseled, scruffy jawline and penetrating eyes.

It’s him.

“Hello.”

His voice makes my skin tingle and not in just a good way—in an oh-my-God-I’m-losing-my-panties way. But I can’t let him get to me so easily.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

His hand opens up, showing me a key. So it was him trying to open the door. “You forgot this one. Better not try to hide keys under the windowsill.”

“I replaced the locks,” I hiss, burying my feet into the ground.

“No wonder it didn’t work,” he says. “Good.”

Why would he even say that?

And why do I immediately think of that dream I had?

“Tell me why you came,” I say with a bold voice, remembering my defiance.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes another step, straight toward the gun.

“You don’t wanna shoot me,” he says.

God, I hate that he can see right through me.

“Answer me! Why are you here?” I growl, clenching the shotgun even tighter.

Before I know it, he’s grabbed the barrel and points it straight at his heart. “Go on then.”

In a panic, I freeze. My finger almost pulls the trigger, but no matter how much I wish I could, I can’t.

“Shoot me,” he says.

I should. I really should.

But my finger refuses to budge.

I scramble to pull the barrel away, but he won’t let go of it no matter how much I try to jerk it free. Instead, he yanks it out of my hands with sheer force and chucks it away out of my reach.

He’s right in front of me now, blocking the way.

“See? You feel something.”

“I don’t,” I hiss back, knowing I’m like a leaf trying to fight an unending storm. We’re bound to clash, and I won’t win this. He will. But I will go down as a liar before I admit that to anyone and especially him.

His face is rigid as always. “Stop lying to yourself, Lillian.”

Just hearing my name come from his mouth makes the goose bumps appear all over my skin.

“Don’t you dare,” I say. “You have no right.”

“I know,” he says. “But I’m still here.”

“How did you even do it?” I ask.

“I won’t bother you with the details. Let’s just say some guards can be easily persuaded.” He shrugs. “I’ve done enough time.”

Of course, he thinks that. As if he’s the one to make that call.

“Tell me why you came here,” I say, my voice sounding more desperate with every uttered word. “Why now, why here, why is it like this?”

He scratches the back of his head. “I needed to see you.”

“Bullshit!” I spit. “Stop lying.”

“It’s the truth.” His face shows no remorse, no change in emotion. It’s as if he’s convinced this is the way even though he knows it isn’t right. None of this is.

“No!” I shove him away. “You don’t get to say that. Fuck no.”

“It’s the only reason I’m here, I promise.”

“How are you even here?” I ask, not sure I want to know.

“I have my ways.” He shrugs.

“Of course, you do.” I shake my head. His “friends” made it happen, of course. “Why should I expect any different? I don’t even know you.”

He makes a tsk sound and laughs it off as though it’s no big deal. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Really? Because I don’t even recognize you,” I snap back.

“You don’t mean that,” he says, cocking his head and smirking. “You’re only saying that because you’re angry with me. And you have every right.”

“Yes, I do. You’re not supposed to be here, and you know that.”

“I don’t follow rules well, Lillian,” he says, still closing in on me. “But I’ll listen to you. Tell me to leave.”

I grate my teeth, trying to get the words across my lips, but no matter how hard I try, they won’t come out.

“Say it.”

I shake my head. I need these feelings to go away. I need to stop thinking about him in ways other than what he truly is … a stalker. I shouldn’t even let him get close. “I can’t.”

I back away slowly into the house, shoving and pushing anything in my way aside. I almost trip over a pair of boots and a cabinet but manage to regain my balance just in time. He follows me inside, taking one step for every step I take.

“I want you. Both,” he says.

“Shut up,” I say, trying not to listen to his sinful voice that pulls me in with every word he speaks.

“No. I did that once. It got me nowhere,” he says, clenching his fist.

Suddenly, I’m up against the closet door underneath the stairs, and he’s already placed his hand against the wood. Unable to move and helpless to stop him, my only option is to stare him down and speak up.

“This isn’t your home anymore.”

“That’s a cruel thing to say, Lil.” He scoffs, his hand reaching higher and higher, as if he means to taunt me with danger. And it’s working, all right, because sweat is dripping down my back.

“Don’t be scared,” he says, leaning in. “I won’t hurt you. I could never.”

That’s hard to believe, coming from him. “How do I know for sure?” I say through gritted teeth.

“Lil ...” He makes a face. “Really? You hurt me.”

“No, you did. You made your choice.” I push back again, rage filling my veins. “And stop calling me that.”

“What, you don’t like the nickname?”

“Nicknames are for good people. Not stalkers.”

“Oh, I’m a stalker now?” he says, setting my soul on fire with the guttural laugh that escapes his throat. “All right. I guess you’re right if that means I get to be close to you and—”

I smack him right in the face. “Don’t you say her name.”

It’s quiet for some time.

I hope he got the point, but maybe that was a bit rough.

Then again, he’s shown up on my property uninvited. I should’ve used the shotgun. Even if I couldn’t shoot him in the heart, maybe I could’ve shot him in the leg. Or the arm. Or both. For good measures.

When he turns around to face me again with a clear red mark on his face, he leans in even closer, and whispers, “I’m sorry, Lil.”

His words bring tears to my face. “Don’t …”

“I can’t stay away. I just can’t,” he says, licking his lips as he places his other hand right beside me on the closet door, trapping me in his arms. “I want you. I need you. It’s all I ever think about. All I want. It’s the only thing in the world that I need … you.”

“No. Don’t do this to me,” I say, shaking my head, wishing it wasn’t true that my heart almost jumped out of my chest hearing that.

I hate him. I should hate him with all my guts.

But I guess that’s love …

It’s unending, unyielding, undeniable. Even when the whole world feels like it’s shifting on its axis and coming undone, love never ceases to exist.

So when he plants his lips on mine, I don’t fight back. I don’t push him away.

I let him kiss me … and overtake my soul.