by Roni Loren
She’d suddenly understood what the heroines in those romantic comedies felt—like yes, this guy. Not because the guy was handsome or funny or brave or whatever it was that made him stand out at first, but because he made the heroine feel seen and understood in a way no one else ever had. That he saw the good stuff and the ugly stuff and loved all parts of that mix. But as quickly as she’d gotten to experience those emotions, they’d been ripped away.
Yes, Hill could love her. No, he wasn’t going to let himself.
They were done.
Just like that.
And the worst part was that he had convinced himself that he was doing it for Andi’s own good. Like he was saving her from the fate of being with him. God. She could shake him and his hard head.
She wasn’t experienced at relationships or love. She could admit that much. But she wasn’t a sixteen-year-old girl anymore either. Hill saw her as inexperienced because she hadn’t had relationships, but he wasn’t counting every guy she hadn’t trusted, every dude she’d passed up, every date she’d turned down. She hadn’t wanted to say yes to anyone until she met him. That had to mean something. That had to be more than seeking the “safe guy.”
She scoffed as she turned into her driveway. Safe. What a fucking joke that was. Hill wasn’t safe. He was the most dangerous guy out there. He was the one she was falling in love with, the one who had the power to crush her heart with a few choice words. The one who was so wrapped up in a cloud of depression that he couldn’t see what they could have, what the possibilities were, how great they could be together.
She wanted to wrestle that monster off his back, to stop it from putting its claws over his eyes and blocking his view of what was really there, but it was bigger than she was. She couldn’t will him out of that state. Her feelings for him couldn’t magically cure his trauma, just like his couldn’t take away what had happened to her. That was his fight.
In one respect, he was right. They wouldn’t last. Not if he believed that he wasn’t worthy of her. Not if he thought he was holding her back or that she was one second away from some other guy catching her eye.
The way he viewed himself made her heart hurt. All those people in that room tonight had looked at him as a hero, as someone who’d sacrificed for the good of others. She’d nearly had to challenge other women to an arm-wrestling contest to win the bidding war. But none of that admiration seemed to penetrate Hill’s armor.
Eliza had once told her that until you can learn to love yourself, no one else can love you enough to make up for that hole. As much as Andi wanted to be with Hill, she didn’t want to spend her life shoveling dirt into a hole only he could fill. Which meant…
She was going to have to let him go. Even if her heart wanted him. Even if this connection with him felt special and right in a way nothing had before.
The cold reality of it was like a fresh kick to the gut.
She parked in her driveway, ready to get into her yoga pants, curl up on the couch with a pint of ice cream, and watch a movie where everyone was killed and no one fell in love.
She turned off the engine, grabbed her purse, and climbed out of the car. As she headed up the driveway, her heels clicked along the pavement and she mentally scrolled through a list of movies, trying to decide which would be the perfect post-breakup horror movie. But before she could pick one, something made her pull up short, yanking her from her thoughts. She halted one step away from the little path that would lead her to the porch steps and her front door.
Something wasn’t right. She gripped her keys and stared up at the house, trying to place what was giving her pause.
The porch light.
It wasn’t on. She was sure she’d turned it on before she’d left tonight. She always flipped it on when she knew she’d be returning home in the dark. She frowned at the darkened porch, the tree in the front yard throwing creepy, swaying shadows along the front of the house. She tried to think back to when she’d left, going through the scene in her head. Had she just forgotten to turn on the light?
She couldn’t remember flipping the switch, but it was a habit. She also didn’t remember grabbing her purse, but she’d obviously done that. She slid her keys between the knuckles of her left hand, pointy side out, and tucked her other hand in her purse, anxiety welling in her.
Breathe. Think through the logical explanations first.
Maybe the light bulb had burned out.
Maybe she’d forgotten to flip the switch since she’d been excited to get to the event.
She’d played this game with herself so many times, it was like second nature. She’d learned the technique in therapy early on—not going to the scariest, worst-case scenario first. But her brain was still trained to do exactly that. The horror writer was imagining all kinds of horrible scenarios.
She glanced back toward her car, which was now as far away from her as the front door. She let her gaze travel over the front yard and the side of the house she could see. There was barely any moonlight tonight, but she didn’t see any lurking shadows besides the outline of the garbage cans and the bushes. The only sound was the breeze through the trees and the steady drone of crickets.
Only a few steps to the door, she told herself. You have an alarm. No one is in the house.
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, pulled her pepper spray out of her purse, and forced herself to move her feet. She tried to imagine the warm light of her living room, the safety of the locked door behind her. She tried to tell herself that she was fine. She was just on edge from the emotional night.
But as she made her way up the porch steps, her gut instincts were screaming at her. She stopped pretending she was calm and speed-walked to her front door. But right before she got her key in the lock, a board squeaked on the porch—and she hadn’t moved her feet.
Panic was like a lightning strike within her—hot and instant. She spun to her right, pepper spray aimed, but before she could fire it, someone grabbed her wrist and wrenched her arm so hard, the canister dropped from her fingertips, clattering to the floorboards.
She yelped, the pain in her shoulder stealing most of her breath, and she tried to yank free. But whoever had her was bigger and stronger, twisting her arm behind her back. She parted her lips to scream, but a gloved hand clamped over her mouth, muffling the sound.
Her mind was on fast-forward, the whole thing taking on a surreal quality. This had to be a nightmare. She’d imagined this scenario so many times that it couldn’t possibly be happening. This isn’t happening.
Her attacker pulled her back against his body, her arm still pinned behind her, and laughed. His breath reeked of cigarettes and beer. “You stupid bitch,” he said, sounding so damn proud of himself. “What can we learn from this? Obviously, you haven’t learned shit. You made this too easy. Didn’t even get your mace fired. Poor Andrea.”
Evan.
Terror filled every cell of her body. He’s found me. The feeling was old and familiar. Lying next to a serial killer, waiting for him to fall asleep, hoping to God she made it out alive. Her worst nightmare all over again. But she forced herself to push through the swirl of flashbacks, not to lose herself completely in the panic. Panic could lie.
This couldn’t be Evan. Evan was in prison for the rest of his life. And replaying the words in her head, this guy didn’t sound like him. What can we learn from this? He’d said that. This was someone who knew her podcast.
She closed her eyes, forcing her voice into something resembling calm. “What do you want?”
The words were muffled against his hand, but she knew they were loud enough for him to hear.
“To see you just like this,” he said. “Terrified. Shaking. Ready to beg me not to hurt you. A useless little girl who thought she was soooo smart, who acts like she’s tough shit online but is just a dumb bitch who could be grabbed right off her own front porch. Your minions w
ould be so disappointed.”
Online. Her minions. She couldn’t believe it. This guy was a fucking troll? She’d been grabbed by some butthurt dipshit from the internet? Her body was trembling from the top of her head to her toes, but she absorbed his words, letting them become fuel. Anger was so much more productive than fear. Her teeth clenched.
No way was she getting taken out by this guy.
“Open your door,” he said, shuffling them both forward. “We need to have a private conversation.”
Never let them take you to a second location.
The words echoed through her head. They were from an old Oprah show she’d once overheard her mom watching. The words had stuck with her, and she’d talked about them on the podcast. She didn’t know if inside her house qualified as an official second location, but there was not a chance in hell she was letting him in without a fight.
She stalled, jiggling her keys in her left hand like she was trying to maneuver them as she quickly ran through what she knew, her mind grasping at information. He had one hand holding her arm behind her back, the other over her mouth. Which meant he had no weapon—at least not actively in his hand. He was bigger than she was, so in a fight, she was at a disadvantage. Her best shot was a distraction and then either getting loose enough to get away and run to the neighbor’s house or at least get her mouth free so she could scream bloody murder.
“Put the key in the fucking lock,” he said, squeezing her jaw so hard it made her eyes water.
She nodded like she was the scared little girl he thought she was. But as she did it, she was getting her keys between her knuckles again. She lifted her left hand with the little range of motion she had as if she was going to reach for the lock, but then she quickly swung her hand back the other way and stabbed him as hard as she could in his thigh.
“Fuck!”
It wasn’t enough to truly injure him, but it was close enough to his crotch that the element of surprise had him angling back to protect himself, and his grip loosened. She wrenched away and screamed like she’d never screamed before. Her arm came free from his grip, and she bolted toward the stairs. But before she could get there, he grabbed her hair and viciously yanked her backward. She fell and landed hard on her ass. Pain shot up her spine, and her scalp burned like it’d been lit on fire.
He called her a slew of names and tugged her hair again, but she was already scrambling, her hands searching. When they found what she was looking for, she didn’t think, just turned and aimed. The hiss of the pepper spray was like a prayer going up. The high-pitched scream that followed was the prayer answered.
Her attacker released her hair to grab for his face, and the stinging burn of the pepper spray made them both cough. But Andi hadn’t taken a direct hit, so she scrabbled backward like a crab toward the stairs, kicking off her shoes. Once she was out of his arm’s reach, she got to her feet and ran down the stairs, screaming the whole way. Her phone was in her purse, which was somewhere on the porch, and she’d dropped her keys in the fray, but she’d bang on every neighbor’s door until someone answered.
However, right before she reached the edge of the front yard, headlights blinded her. She put up her hands to shield her eyes, but then started waving both arms when it registered that this could be someone to help. The vehicle screeched to a halt in the street, and the door swung open.
When her vision adjusted and she recognized the truck, relief rushed over her like a tidal wave. Oh God, oh God. Thank you, God.
Hill climbed out with the headlights still on blast. “Andi!”
She ran toward him, the warm pavement rough against her feet. “Get in the truck! Someone’s on the porch. He attacked me.”
Horror filled Hill’s face as he took in the sight of her. He grabbed her, pulling her to him. “Jesus Christ. Tell me you’re okay.”
The feel of his arms around her was the sweetest relief, but they weren’t out of danger. “I’m okay. In the truck. Get in the truck.”
“Right.” Hill herded her over to the passenger side and got her into the seat.
“I got him…with the pepper spray,” she said, her words coming in gasps. “Need to call…police.”
Hill pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in 911. “Talk to them. I’m not going to let him get away.”
Fresh panic zipped through her. She grabbed him by the belt. “No. Stay here. You’ll get hurt. He could have a weapon.”
The operator came on the line, asking what was her emergency. Andi quickly gave the lady her address and told her she’d been attacked.
As she was trying to describe what was happening, a figure appeared in the beam of the headlights. A lanky white guy in dark jeans, a black T-shirt, and a backward baseball cap. He was swiping at his eyes with one hand and still coughing. He started jogging in the opposite direction.
“Motherfucker,” Hill seethed.
“Please,” Andi begged, pulling the phone away from her ear. “Don’t. Get in the truck. The police are on the way.”
“Andi,” he said, looking back to her like she’d lost her mind. “He’ll get away.”
“That’s not your problem,” she said, pleading. “You’re worth more to me alive than your name in the paper for being the hero. Please, Hill. I love you and you love me, and though you don’t realize it right now, we’re eventually going to be together because we’re supposed to be. So if you let some punk-ass troll take you out, I’m going to be super pissed.”
He blinked, his expression stunned.
She had surprised herself with the love declaration, but she wasn’t going to take it back. Seeing Hill in front of her at the exact moment she needed him was all the sign she needed. The universe wanted them to be together. She would keep fighting for this.
“And news flash,” she went on. “Horror stories don’t end well for the dudes. Don’t go after him. I don’t want to be a final girl.” She released his waistband and whirled her finger in the air. “Get in the damn truck.”
Hill stared at her for another second and then gave a curt nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
She put the phone back to her ear. “I sprayed the guy with pepper spray. He’s running down the street, heading north, but he’s going slow because he can’t see.”
“We have officers on the way,” the operator said. “Just stay on the line.”
Hill got in the truck and put it in gear. He rolled forward slowly, keeping the guy in the beam of the headlights but not getting too close.
Andi reached out and grabbed Hill’s hand, squeezing it.
He sent her a gentle smile that warmed her from the inside out and squeezed back.
She knew they had things to work through if they were going to be together, but him getting into the truck had told her enough. Hill had chosen to be her hero instead of the hero. He’d kept himself safe even when it went against his instincts. That meant he had hope for the future. For himself. For them. A belief that there was something bigger waiting for them that was worth protecting. That was all she needed to know.
She could work with that.
“If he walks into the street, you have my permission to hit him nonfatally with the truck,” she said, her eyes narrowing on her attacker. “Fucker.”
“Gladly.” Hill’s jaw flexed as he kept the guy in sight.
Sirens whined in the distance.
The guy took a sharp left, right out in front of them. Andi smirked.
Hill gave her a brief look and then accelerated just enough to make it hurt.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hill sat in the waiting area of the police station while Andi gave her statement down the hall. The guy Hill had accidentally-on-purpose tapped with his truck—Jake something or other—was in another part of the station getting interrogated. Hill wished he could have a few minutes alone in a room with that piece of shit. When Andi had stepped under the har
sh fluorescent lights of the police station, Hill had seen for the first time that her elbows and knees were scraped up and a patch of her hair had been ripped out, her scalp matted with blood. The thought that someone had hurt Andi, had thrown her to the ground with plans to assault her or worst… Hill couldn’t even process that level of rage.
I could’ve lost her.
The realization was like being plunged into icy water. He didn’t want to imagine a world that didn’t include Andi. Though he’d only known her for a couple of months, she’d become part of the fabric of his days without him realizing it. He could clearly define the time before Andi and the time after. Even in his memories of the times before, everything seemed grayer, faded. Long days, an empty house, time stretching out before him with no idea what to do with the hours. The times after, in contrast, were painted with color—full of laughter and scary movies and cooking and tangled sheets. Mornings when he woke up and was actually excited about the day. Days when he remembered the person he used to be. Andi had been like a shot of adrenaline straight into the bloodstream of his life.
And she could’ve been taken from this world. Just like that. Because he’d pushed her away, hurt her. To protect himself. The coward’s move. He should’ve been walking her to her door tonight. Instead, she’d had to face her worst nightmare alone.
But still, even after all that, when he’d gotten to her, she hadn’t yelled at him or been angry for what he’d done. Instead, she’d knocked him flat on his proverbial ass. A talent she seemed to have.
When she’d declared she loved him—right before demanding he get his butt in the truck—his whole world had tilted under him. He’d known after their conversation earlier in the night that she was developing feelings for him, but the way she’d put it out there… I love you. You love me. Like that didn’t take a shit ton of bravery. Like they were facts that just existed. That had made something inside him click into place.
Could it be that simple?
Everything in his life had felt so complicated for so long that he always looked for layers within the layers. Why had he gone back in to save those people even after the building was declared too dangerous to go back inside? Was it because he was brave or because he didn’t care if he made it? Had Christina cheated on him because there was something wrong with him or because there was something wrong with the relationship? Had his mom left because she didn’t think Hill was worth sticking around for, or was she just so depressed that she thought everyone would be better without her?