Page 55 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart (Houston Baddies #3)

I don’t see why she’s laughing or what’s so damn funny about my predicament. My hand clutches the doorknob, though I’m somehow unable to turn it.

“And if you were so confident in him being a friendly squirrel, you wouldn’t need me here.” Boom, roasted.

She laughs harder as if I’d said the funniest thing ever, holding a hand to her mouth as if to stifle the loud giggling.

God, if only she weren’t so fucking cute .

“I’m not facing a wild animal on my own.” She laughs. “I have seen these things lurking on campus, and they are not our friends.”

Her head shakes, and I think this is the perfect opportunity to let her in on my “Squirrels are here to take over the world” theory.

“Wild animal?” That’s a bit of a stretch. But still. “They are trying to take over the world. Agree. Way too many of those creepy little fucks.”

Lizzy nods at my hard truths. “Those are facts.”

I inhale a deep breath—the kind of breath I take during a hockey game when the ref drops the puck onto the ice to begin the game.

“Here goes nothing.” My mouth twists into a sardonic smile. “It’s been nice knowing you, Lizzy.”

Sure would have been nice to see those tits, Lizzy Campbell .

C’est la vie. That’s life.

With one glance back at her, I give the doorknob a turn and push the door open, one inch—then two. Three inches.

Four.

“My heart is racing so fast,” she whispers behind me, voice getting closer, her front pressed against my back as if she were trying to look over my shoulder.

“Mine too,” I whisper despite not wanting to sound like a total pussy.

Stepping gingerly— very fucking gingerly —into her bedroom, creeping inch by inch, I scan the perimeter for the squirrel, unable to spot the bastard within my first few steps.

I glance around again, scanning.

Wanting to find it but not wanting to find it.

Dresser. Mirror.

Open closet with the clothes moved to one side.

Desk. Lamp.

Bed.

My eyes take it all in.

No squirrel .

“Do you see it?” Lizzy whispers behind me, her boobs pressed into my back as if we were walking through a haunted house during Halloween.

It’s completely unnecessary—plus, I don’t need her latched to my back if I have to make an emergency exit.

I’d look like a giant asshole shoving her out of the way to escape.

“Do you think it went back inside the hole?” She’s still whispering.

She said hole.

I want to laugh because deep down inside, I’m a twelve-year-old idiot.

“Doubtful.” Most likely, it’s hiding in plain sight, and we just haven’t been able to locate the damn thing because we’re looking too hard. Plus, she has a few stuffed animals, and it could be lurking behind those—hard to tell.

Lizzy is on her tiptoes behind me, peering over my shoulder. Breathing heavily, she grips my biceps as if our lives depended on me for survival. In reality, she doesn’t stand a chance if I’m her deciding factor. I’m so out of here if that thing pounces.

Her nails dig into my arm, but I don’t exactly hate it. I’ve always liked it a little rough. Ha!

“You can let go of me any day now,” I tell her even though it doesn’t bother me one bit that her tits stay pressed into my back.

“But I don’t see it.”

“Neither do I.” It has to be here somewhere.

Waiting.

We step back out of the bedroom, and I pull the door closed a bit so the squirrel can’t hear our discussion. I don’t need it hearing our plan because I don’t need him trying to outsmart us.

“What should we do?” Lizzy’s lips say quietly.

“I have no idea. I’m not sure he’s even in there.” Okay. There is no plan.

“He has to be in there,” she says with conviction. “Can you go in—all the way in, I mean. To make sure?”

Is she out of her damn mind?

“You want me to go all the way into your room, without protection, and do what? Wait him out?” I ask slowly so there’s no confusing the question. “I have no pads with me.”

Pads would be nice. Chest plate, face mask.

Gloves.

“Please?”

Oh god, is she begging me ?

I’ve never had a girl do that before let alone one that is half dressed, in her pretty pink bathrobe, towel turban wrapped around her hair.

Her quiet little plea is enough for me, and I nod like the idiot I am, large and in charge—squaring my shoulders—ready for what awaits me when I go farther into the room.

Turning around to face her, I say, “Wait here,” I say somberly, as if I were about to embark on a solo mission to Armageddon. “And close the door behind me. Just in case.”

Lizzy nods, hands back on her robe, pulling it closed.

“Okay.”

“Stand clear of the door—you know, in case.”

“In case what?” Her doe eyes go wide.

“You know,” I say it mysteriously. “In case I have to come charging back through it. I don’t know what that little bastard is capable of.” I growl it the way I imagine someone in the military would growl it, fierce and determined as they head into battle.

“Okay.” Lizzy gulps, touching my bicep to reassure me. “Be careful. And good luck.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to theatrically say, “Maybe you should kiss me for good luck,” but I don’t have the balls. Instead, I simply dip my invisible hat. I turn the doorknob, push it open again slowly, then stick my head through before stepping all the way inside her room.

The door closes behind me.

I immediately forget what I’m here for, eyes surveying the landscape now that she’s not pressing her boobs into my back, distracting me.

It’s pink.

Not the walls , but her quilt. The bed has been made, and everything is as tidy as the rest of the house.

Flowers. Florals.

Girly.

A perfume collection sits on the desk atop a mirrored tray. A flat iron and blow dryer hang on a little rack that’s been affixed to the wall.

There’s a peg board or whatever you call it next to her mirror, with ribbons and a calendar. A photo of Lizzy holding a furry gray cat. One of Lizzy and a young boy. Lizzy in a triangle bikini swimsuit and three other girls her age, on the pier at a lake.

She’s dripping wet.

Laughing.

I peel my eyes off that photo and continue scanning, feet rooted to the floor, not making any sudden movements.

Curtains hang where a closet door would normally be. Dresser nestled away inside, and above it? A squirrel size hole.

“Ah. The scene of the crime,” I muse.

I search for the squirrel with my eyes, staying close to the door, legs braced for an attack—the same way I brace myself on the ice during a game or when my teammates are coming to check me in practice.

“Come on, dude—where you at? Help me out here.”

I mean, I could actually live without him suddenly appearing. The last thing I need is an assault from a rodent because he’s freaking the fuck out, trapped inside this room the same way I am.

Surprisingly enough, I spot a lacrosse stick leaning against the desk and decide to grab it—just in case—with no intention to use it if the thing decides to?—

“HOLY SHIT!” I scream as the squirrel appears out of fucking nowhere, leaping to the curtain rod above the closet door, beady black eyes staring into me, whiskers twitching. His tiny little chest heaves in and out.

My heart thumps inside my chest.

His heart thumps inside his chest.

We watch each other, both of us calculating.

I hold perfectly still, hands shaking.

“Stay where you are,” I tell it, trying to remain calm. “Don’t move.”

Then from outside in the hallway: “Brodie, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say even though I’m afraid to make noise—the last thing I want is the squirrel getting scared of my voice and pouncing from his perch above the window. “Found him.”

“What’s it doing?”

“Staring at me. He’s over the closet.” Perched. Like a squirrel.

“Are you going to open the window?”

“Hell no I’m not opening it,” I hiss.

At least not from inside the room . No fucking way.

“Why not?”

BECAUSE I’M SCARED, THAT’S WHY!

What I actually say, through clenched teeth, is, “I don’t want to move.”

Lizzy is silent for a few seconds. “Brodie, you’re going to have to. You can’t stand there all night.” Then she asks, “Should I come in?”

I shake my head. “No.”

SAVE YOURSELF!

In a calm, measured voice, I add, “The good news is, he hasn’t destroyed anything.”

“That’s good.” Pause. “We really should try to open the window though.”

And by we she means me.

I shake my head again, vigorously. “Nuh-uh. He’s right there.”

“If he’s sitting near the window, that makes it the perfect time to open it.”

I wish she would stop talking.

No fucking way am I getting any closer.

No way am I going to?—