What I thought was thunder rolled through the sky over Enchanted Rock, shaking the floor and rattling the windows of my little house. At the same time, though, it was like an ice pick was stabbed into my heart, sending a frigid chill down my spine.

Eyes wide, I leaped up from the couch, from Derrick’s arm around my shoulders. “Matthew!”

I didn’t know what had caused me to exclaim his name that way, but it was nothing more than a passing feeling, like someone walking over my grave.

Derrick tried to pull me back down to the couch. “Becks, you okay?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head as I pushed him away, my heart still jack hammering as my hands and feet began to tingle. “I don’t know,” I said, stammering a little. “I really don’t know. Was that thunder? We weren’t supposed to have a storm today, were we?”

“Thunder?” he asked, sitting up a little and looking back over the couch at the backyard. “No, doesn’t look like thunder. Sky’s perfectly clear.”

I turned my eyes to the backyard, confirming that he was right. It was beautiful outside. Sunny, with the sky that faded blue hue you only found in the summer, when the sun seems twice as large as normal, but still just as beautiful as it hangs over your head. The sight of such a wonderful day, though, didn’t do anything to help. A gloom, a sneaking suspicion that something awful had happened, hung over me like a shroud.

“You feeling okay?” Derrick asked, looking back to me in concern. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll grab a drink for us?”

I clenched my jaw a little tighter and shook my head. “No, I’m fine. I just had an awful feeling. Like-like something happened to Matthew Jones.”

He looked surprised at first, but his brows quickly furrowed in concern. “Because of some thunder? Come on, Matt’s fine. Have some wine and relax.”

His words didn’t do anything to help allay my feelings of fear and dread, though. Something had happened. I knew it as surely as I knew up was up and down was down. I could sense it in the marrow of my bones, this aching loss. No, having a glass of wine and trying to relax wasn’t going to help this. What I needed to do was find out if Matthew was okay. I turned away from Derrick and rushed to find my phone.

“What are you doing?” he asked as I went into the kitchen and pulled my phone off its charger.

“Just making some calls,” I replied. “I really don’t think that was just thunder.”

“Well, I didn’t hear anything,” he said as he eased himself up from the couch with a sigh.

“You sure?” I asked as I pulled up Matthew’s contact info and called him, sticking the phone to my ear. “It rattled the windows.”

Derrick, standing in the kitchen doorway, just shrugged. “Nothing. Sorry.”

I shrugged back as the phone rang and rang and rang in my ear.

Finally, he picked up. “Hello you’ve reached Matthew Jones–”

“Shit,” I said, hitting end and dropping the phone on the counter. “Voicemail.”

“Well, maybe he’s just in the bathroom or something? Doesn’t want to answer your calls?”

I sighed. Maybe he was ignoring them. Especially after the way I’d treated him back at his office.

“I bet he’ll call you right back,” Derrick said, stepping into the kitchen and grabbing a beer from the six-pack still sitting behind me on the counter.

“Maybe,” I said. I could feel him standing right behind me, the way you can sometimes feel another person standing in a pitch-dark room. You may not be able to see them, but all of your other senses are telling you they’re right there. “I just can’t get over this feeling in my gut. Like something bad has happened to him, Derrick.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I promise. Matt’s a smart guy and he’s capable. Nothing’s going to stop him.”

“Thanks,” I said, putting my hand over his.

He reached around and gave me a hug from behind, his arm right across my chest as he pulled me back into him.

I relaxed into his touch, the touch of a friend. I reached up, patted my hand on his big forearm. “Thanks again,” I said. “For being here for me.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, putting his other arm around me, pulling me tighter against him. I could hear him breathing in my ear a little.

I stiffened a little as he pressed his body against mine, visions of Matthew Jones filling my head. I swallowed hard. “Derrick?” I asked. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” he asked, his voice soft and soothing from right beside me. “Just giving you a hug.”

“Well,” I said, trying to pull away, “that’s enough, alright?”

His arms didn’t budge, though. Instead, they just tightened, keeping me against him as one of his arms moved up to my neck.

“Enough?” he cooed in my ear. “Just trying to give you a hug, Becks.”

My heart began hammering again as I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat barely sliding over his forearm. I wasn’t sure exactly what was going on, but I knew it was something I didn’t want. This wasn’t right for my friend to be hugging me like this, not while I was worrying about the man of my dreams. “Yes,” I said, struggling against him, trying to break free. “Let go, Derrick. Let me go.”

“Let go?” he asked again, repeating my question obnoxiously. “But I just want to give you a hug.” As he said those words, his forearm tightened on the side of my neck as his other hand shoved my head downwards.

The world began to go dark around the edges, like everything was gently fading out. The blood rushed in my ears like a raging river. I tore at his arms, trying to get them away from my throat, but to no avail.

“Derrick,” I choked out, my voice gagging as he continued to strangle me. “What are you doing? Please stop!”

“Oh, but Becks, sweet Becks,” he said sweetly in my ear, “we’re just getting started.”