Page 18 of Heavy

He releases me and strides away from my car. I hit the gas without a second thought, not bothering to look back to see where he’s headed or if he even makes it inside.

Her hug is unexpectedly aggressive, which has me slightly concerned. It’s not like I haven’t seen Gene in months; it’s only been a few weeks.

Regardless, I hold onto her just as tightly, letting out the same “mmm” hum as we finally pull apart. She brushes a few stray blonde strands away from my face and smiles warmly.

“You’ve been so quiet lately. No texts, not even a silly meme.”

“I know, I’ve been busy cleaning up the cabin.”

And trying not to drool over my stepdad’s brother.

“When everything is done, I’ll have to come down and see how it turns out!” Honestly, I don’t mind that she knows Ronan is around. She’s aware of my complicated relationship with my mom and never speaks to her when I’m not there, same with my stepdad. For now, though, I’ll keep it to myself until she plans a visit. I’m certainly not going to ask the convict to hide in his room while my friend wanders about.

I know I shouldn’t call him a convict—that’s pretty rude. Though to be fair, he did call me a “basic blonde bitch” earlier, in a sense. It was the only Mustang on the lot and I’m an instant gratification kind of girl. If I’m going to spend my money, I want it now. That’s why I always opt for expedited shipping.

Genevieve leans over the tall, rounded table we have been sitting at. We came to the bar after we both got off work, just to decompress and bitch about how living with a man is not at all it’s cracked up to be.

“I’ve got tickets to a concert. I was going to invite Travis but I’m already sick of him.”

I giggle and take a sip of myonlydrink I’m having. The drive back to the cabin at night is already dangerous and I don’t need to be adding being impaired to that.

“Is it the Glitz Tour?!” I say with enthusiasm. I’ve always wanted to see Bee in concert.

“You know it,” she coos, and I swear I could kiss her.

“I’m in. When is it?”

“I’ll text you the details… VIP tickets, baby!”

I lean back and clap my hands together, only to feel someone brush against my back. Startled, I straighten up and turn to say, “Sorry.” I don’t get a good look at him, but he’s tall, with a hood pulled low over his head and a leather jacket over his sweater. He heads toward the door, but I barely register his presence as I shift my focus back to Gene.

“Are you doing alright by yourself?” she asks, finishing off her margarita.

I smile and nod. “Yeah, it’s not so bad. I get a lot of work done, and being on site for a major project will help me grow my knowledge. It’s sort of a unique opportunity.”

Bullshit.

“Good.” She reaches her hand out and grabs onto mine. “You’ve never lived on your own, and being thrust right into it can be scary. Honestly, I’d be terrified. I’m sure it’s dark as shit out there at night.”

I want to tell her that fear makes me feel alive. That on some nights, when I gaze out my window, all I see is darkness. Sometimes I find myself hoping that when I pull back the curtains in the dead of night, I’ll catch those piercing blue eyes of his staring back at me.

“It’s not so bad,” I say with a grin. “I got a security system, all it’s caught on the cameras are deer and a few rabbits.”

I’m grateful I found Gene when I did; she’s one of those friends who stands the test of time. No matter how far apart we are, I know she’ll always be with me. At least I hope so, given what I’ve done and what still lies ahead.

Squeezing her hand, she dives into the details of the concert and all the dirty details both in her love life and the silly books she’s been reading.

About two hours later we’re saying our goodbyes.

Gene rushes off to catch her bus—she and Travis live downtown—while I head to the parking garage where my car is.

The bright lights make me feel safe, but there’s an unsettling sense that someone is watching me. A strange tingling sensation creeps up my spine and tickles the nape of my neck. I jerk my head around, feeling it pop, but the concrete structure is empty except for parked cars.

I narrow my eyes at the toll booth where the security guard I waved to earlier has his head down. The glass is slightly tinted, but I can tell he isn’t paying me any attention now. I swallow hard and continue up the slight incline.

My car is parked in the middle of levels one and two, and I didn’t feel the need to take the elevator, even though my toes are starting to sting against the tapered point of my heels.

As my red Mustang comes into view, I glance over my shoulder one last time, but there’s still no one there.