***
By the time we leave the police department, it’s sprinkling. We hurry to Colt’s truck, and I buckle my seatbelt as Colt climbs into the driver’s seat. He starts the engine, and it rumbles to life. “Hungry?” he asks.
“Starved.”
“We’ll grab some burgers on the way home.”
We’re both quiet as he drives. The sky has darkened with clouds, and the dashboard lights have turned on while the windshield wipers make gentle whooshing sounds.
Filing the report had been just as awkward as I’d expected. It was embarrassing to file a report on a man I’d been screwing for weeks without knowing his real name. I didn’t explain the night of my birthday since the note and photos were enough evidence to prove that I’m being stalked. The report was also pointless, because my stalker is currently nameless. Nothing can be done until he contacts me further and his identity is revealed.
We stop by a drive-thru, and I open the bag I’d placed on my lap and steal a fry, popping it in my mouth as Colt merges with the evening traffic once more. I glance at him curiously. “Now that a report has been filed, should we tell the others?” I ask, half-hoping he’ll urge me to keep this to myself. I can already predict his response, though.
“Yes. Channing and Gabe will be irritated we’ve kept it from them this long.”
I glance at the darkened sky as lightening streaks across it. “If we tell them, I don’t want them breathing down my neck,” I warn.
“Breathing down your neck will help keep you safe,” he says, switching on the blinker and passing a car.
“The pictures are harmless. Creepy, yes. But a threat to my life, no.”
“We’ve been over this, Quinn. Sending a note written in blood is not normal.”
I shrug, digging into the bag for another fry. “People wouldn’t call me normal, either.”
Colt sighs.
I eat a few more fries and watch the traffic as we inch our way closer to home.
“Gabe’s working, but Channing should be home,” Colt says, breaking the silence.
I make a face at the thought of explaining everything to him. “You can fill him in, I’m not in the mood to rehash all this stuff. Just don’t tell him the part about what Slade looks like. They don’t need to know about that at this point.”
“Agreed, but it would be best if it was coming from you.”
“You’re the one who’s worried, not me.” I’m finished snitching fries, and I close the bag.
Colt’s head swivels towards me. “It’s okay to admit you’re scared, Quinn.”
“I’m not scared.”
His eyes linger on me.
“I’m not,” I insist. “When I started messing with him, I knew he was a little odd. So he doesn’t take breakups well, wouldn’t be the first guy to feel that way, and certainly not the last.”
Colt pulls the truck into the driveway and cuts the engine. He immediately turns towards me. “The man is dangerous, and you know it. I want to hear you say it, Quinn.”
My lips tighten. “He could be dangerous,” I hedge.
“I know you don’t want to admit that this is serious shit happening, but it is. Is it going to fuck with the lifestyle you enjoy? Yes. Does it make life difficult? Hell yes. I get it, it sucks, Quinn.”
I glare at him. “You don’t get anything, Colt.” I grab the bag and shove open the truck’s door. Colt swears from behind me as I hop down from the truck and hurry through the rain to the house.
Colt’s right on my heels as I shove open the front door, pausing to wipe my feet on the doormat. “What don’t I get?” he challenges.
“Everything,” I snap, striding through the living room with him right on my ass. “Quit following me. You avoid admitting your shit, so leave me to my own.”
I pass by the kitchen and reach my room, closing the door in Colt’s face before he can say anything more. I wait to see if he’s going to push to talk further, but I hear him mutter something under his breath before walking away.
Now that I’m certain I have privacy, I flip on the light and set the takeout bag on the dresser. My face is wet from the rain, and I run my hands over my cheeks, probably smearing my makeup. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, but I am sick of Slade screwing up everything.
Then, there’s Colt. I’m frustrated that I want him so much and he won’t give me an inch. What if he never does? The sound of my stomach growling reminds me that I need to eat. I grab the bag and pause.
Well, shit.
Figures.
After pulling out my burger and fries, I leave my room, following the sound of voices coming from the kitchen. When I enter the room, both Colt and Channing look up. I glare at Colt, daring him to say one word as I set his meal on the island counter before determinedly walking back out.