Page 41 of Don't Speak

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

“What are you smiling about over there? Amelia asks from the nail salon chair beside me.

I look over at her, biting my lower lip and grinning. “Dean.” I blush.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this happy. It looks good on you.”

“What does?” I ask.

“Happiness,” she responds.

I look at her, thankful to have her as my best friend.

She’s always loved me for exactly who I am.

Our girls’ day has been relaxing so far.

We started the morning off by going to Thanks- a-Latte Cafè and getting breakfast and coffee.

Then we came here first for a pedi. I think after this, we’re going to hit up that bookstore in town, maybe a few clothing stores, grab lunch, and then head back to her place.

Her husband is at some car show in another state, so we have the house to ourselves.

“Thank you, buddy,” I whisper, smiling at her.

“Have you gotten any more of those pictures?”

“No, actually. I haven’t gotten one since right before Ben died.

Maybe they got bored,” I say with minimal confidence.

Honestly, with everything that has been going on, I haven’t thought about it much.

It’s hard to keep track of things when your life is a shitshow.

But now that I think about it, why haven’t I gotten any envelopes?

I guess I should just take this as a win?

“I still think it’s weird. And I’m still not happy with you not calling the cops.”

“Yeah, I know. Dean was with me when I got the last one. They’ve weirdly always had the two of us in them.

I had told him that I had been receiving them during a shift at the bar.

I told him a lot of things, actually…” I trail off.

Amelia’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. I already know what you’re going to say.

Trust me, it’s nothing I haven’t said to myself.

I opened myself up for heartache with this one, but he has this weird pull on me. ”

“I just don’t want you going into anything too fast. I don’t want you to get hurt.” She looks at me, concern clear across her face.

“I’ll be fine. I promise,” I reassure her. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel safe with him.”

“Well, if he hurts you, I’m cutting his balls off and feeding them to him,” she deadpans.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Me: Are you alive?

An image of Simba curled up next to Dean comes through.

Dean: We’re surviving. We both miss you. Hope you’re having fun.

Me: A blast. We’re watching horror movies and drinking wine. Amelia is shockingly a little tipsy. I don’t get to see her this way often. She’s always the responsible one.

Dean: I hope I can meet her soon. She seems important to you.

Me: Very much so. And me too. Just wanted to check in and see how you were. Thinking about you.

Dean: Thinking about you too, little lioness. Sweet dreams.

Me: Goodnight

Amelia looks at me from her spot on the couch. We’ve been home for a few hours and are already about two bottles deep, with two more on the counter. Insidious plays on the TV, but we’ve both seen it a few times already.

“Oh, you’ve got it baaadddd,” she teases.

“Shut up!” I laugh, throwing the couch decor pillow at her. I pull up the photo I just received and show it to her. “Isn’t this the cutest? Even Simba is falling for his charisma.”

“What do you know about him?” She cuts right to the point.

I think for a second. “Well, his mom was basically non-existent, his dad left when he turned eighteen, and he had a sister whom he cared for very much, but she passed away. He told me he does freelance work. ‘Jobs no one else wants to do,’ were his words actually. He had his own apartment before several of the unit’s pipes burst.”

“I am happy that you are happy. But I do find it a bit odd that he strolls into town when those photos occur and happens to be in them.”

“Well, he obviously can’t be the one taking the photo if he’s in them,” I say, feeling a little defensive.

I grab the box of Reese’s Pieces from the pile of snacks we purchased earlier and open it to occupy my mouth before I say something I can’t take back.

I know she’s concerned for me, and I love her for that.

But I refuse to believe Dean has any involvement in the crazy shit that has been happening in my life lately.

After the time we’ve spent together and the connection we’ve built, I really want to believe he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.

I haven’t felt like this for anyone in a long time, if ever.

This strange feeling keeps tugging at my heart, and I don’t know what to think about it.

I want to believe that for once in my life, I’ve found someone who wants me. Someone who will love me.

“No, I know that. I just… I don’t know. I have an odd feeling about something right now. It’s been affecting my mood all week,” she tells me.

“Well, let’s not worry about it right now,” I say. “Right now, let’s just eat, drink, and be scared.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” she agrees, although I can tell by her tone she’s not fully convinced about Dean.