The second her door closed, I felt eyes on the back of my head. I could feel someone watching. But when I turned around, there wasn’t a single soul in sight. No neighbors on their porch, no kids playing in the street.

Fuck, I’m just as paranoid as she is. The sound of my boots slapping on the cement stairs pounds as hard as my pulse does in my ears.

When I get in my car, I lock the doors but don’t turn the key in the ignition. Not just yet. The light in her bedroom isn’t on and I wait, staring at the curtains until the soft yellow glow floods the window. Even though dusk hasn’t hinted at its arrival, I can still see she’s turned on the light.

I’m tired as fuck. I couldn’t sleep last night, and I don’t have a clue when I’ll finally be able to rest easy again. The image of Chloe in my bed soothes the beast inside me. The caged animal that needs to be released. If she was next to me, in my arms and in my bed, I’d sleep then.

I pick up my phone and call Carter, needing some relief tonight and wondering if he’d drive by and keep a lookout for me. I don’t like the way she’s thinking and worse, the way she’s acting. I can’t risk her doing anything stupid, like telling anyone else about that list.

The phone rings. And rings. An unsettling feeling in my gut churns until he picks up. I’m reminded that his mom’s doing worse and worse. One day he’ll answer and tell me she’s gone. I fucking dread that day. The cancer’s been eating at her for two years now; she doesn’t look like herself anymore with all the weight she's lost. She can’t go anywhere without getting winded. It’s only a matter of time at this point.

“Hey man, I’m having a rough time. I was just about to call you.”

“What’s going on?” I ask him, feeling guilty that I forgot the shit he’s going through.

There’s silence for a long time before he tells me, “It’s just getting harder.”

“You all right?”

I can hear him swallow before he replies, “As all right as I can be.” I forget what it’s like to have a family, let alone what it would be like to watch someone you love to slowly die in front of you. “You need me to do anything?” I ask him.

Again, there’s only silence.

“Nah,” he says. “What is it you needed?”

With his question, comes a beep signaling I’ve received a text and instantly I think it’s Chloe. Looking up and watching as the light goes off and the window loses its light, I answer him, “It was just a passing thought, it doesn’t matter.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” I answer him. “But if you need anything, let me know. I got you.”

I don’t rush getting off the phone with Carter, but he does, ending the call right then with the sound of his father yelling in the background. My heart goes out to the kid.

More than a time or two I’ve thought about showing his dad what it’s like to have someone take out their anger and fear on a man, but I don’t know if Carter would forgive me for stepping in. Or whether it would just make things worse on him. His family is his. It’s what he told me when I suggested it once. I never want to get between him and his family. Never. No matter how fucked up they are.

The second the line goes dead, I check my text messages, but the message isn’t from her.

Are you going back on your word?

I read the text from the unknown number with a mix of anger and fear coloring my consciousness as I stare at the words.

I turn the key in the ignition, although I know I’ll be back tonight once the sun has set. I’m dead set on staying right here tonight. Right in front of her house until the early morning’s passed. I don’t need to sleep. I can sleep when I’m dead.

I answer, No, I understand what I have to do. She’s staying out of it. She doesn’t know.

The unknown number replies, Good. I’d hate for you to find out what would happen if you go back on your word.