Page 9 of How to Trust a Hellhound (Hellhounds of Paradise Falls #4)

It was short, but I didn’t want to text the whole story, especially since Toby would just need all the details in person anyway. When I walked out of the bathroom, I stopped. There was a takeout container and a bag on the table. When I walked over, I saw a note, too.

Dear Josh,

We got the rest of the stuff from your place. We put it in the bedroom for now, since Aiden told us we shouldn’t unpack for you. I also picked you up some pasta from the little place in town. The sets in the bag are for you—I hope you enjoy them.

I’ll see you soon. Call if you need anything .

It was signed by Wilder, and his phone number was below that. I blushed a little looking at it. He was just being helpful, that was all. I still took the note into my bedroom and grabbed my phone to enter his number in my contacts.

I walked back out and opened the bag, and inside were two building sets—a plum blossom and a polaroid camera.

I felt tears gather in my eyes, and I blinked to try and clear them.

How long had it been since I’d done a build?

Even more than that, how long since I’d done one and hadn’t hidden it or taken apart the end product because it was “stupid looking”?

Now I could build it and leave it out, since Rick wasn’t here to talk about my shitty taste. Not that this was my place, and I needed to remember that, too. God, I’d have to figure out where I was gonna stay. I couldn’t take advantage of the Smith family forever.

I still couldn’t believe Wilder had got me building sets and brought me dinner.

I was almost glad he wasn’t here. I wouldn’t have known how to react, and I probably would’ve made a fool of myself somehow or another.

I didn’t remember the last time I’d gotten a gift, aside from special occasions.

Of course, Toby and Sebbie and I all exchanged presents for birthdays and stuff.

This felt weirdly intimate, though, and I wondered if Wilder felt sorry for me.

Or maybe he was just that much of a nice guy.

A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts, and I went over to open it. Both Toby and Sebbie were in the doorway, and they both gasped a bit when they saw my face.

I put a hand up to my cheek where it had bruised, covering it. “Yeah, it’s been a rough day. I have to wrap my wrist—it’s sprained—if you guys can help me.”

That seemed to spur them into motion, because Toby and Sebbie both bustled in, and Sebbie grabbed the wrapping off the table where I’d put it and maneuvered me into a chair. He looked at my wrist critically, gently prodding it, and Toby just stared at me. They didn’t say anything .

“Don’t make this weird, you guys. I’m not dead or anything,” I joked.

“I’ll kill him. No, I’ll have Dexter kill him,” Toby started, and I could tell he was really upset.

“He can make it look like an accident, and he can make sure his body is never found. He can burn him to ash so there’s no trace left.

He can even torture him first. Maybe remove his fingers, although maybe his dick would be better… ”

Sebbie just looked at me and smiled softly as Toby ranted. This was more like it. Toby was a bloodthirsty paranormal romance writer, and the situation wouldn’t be complete without some plotting.

“You okay?” Sebbie asked softly, finishing up the wrapping on my wrist.

I nodded my head. Toby was pacing and discussing torture methods for when they murdered “Rick the Dick.” I chuckled at the nickname, but Toby just kept ranting. Sebbie put a hand on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry we didn’t do anything,” he said softly, and Toby heard him.

“Fuck. We knew something was off, but we didn’t want to push, and we should have pushed. We should have asked more questions. We should have gotten more involved.” Toby wiped at his eyes.

I stood up. “Please don’t do that. You couldn’t have done anything.

I wasn’t ready to face the situation. I knew you’d be there for me, and that helped more than you know.

I’m okay. I broke up with Rick, and for now I’m staying here.

I’ll have to figure something permanent out, but I’m sure I have time.

Right now, I’m just really glad to have my friends here, and I kind of just want to hang out and not talk about all that stuff, if that’s okay with you. ”

“Of course it is,” Sebbie said, standing up next to me. “And it looks like you have takeout waiting to be eaten, and we can order more food.”

Toby looked petulant for a minute. “We can still have him tortured and killed.” Sebbie gave him a look, and he put his hands up. “Ok, ok—food first. Ohhh, is that from that little Italian place? It smells amazing! You gotta let us try some!”

I smiled and grabbed the bag from the table, putting it off to the side and going to grab forks and plates for the food.

For some reason, I didn’t tell them about the building sets, and I didn’t tell them who’d brought dinner.

It felt nice that Wilder had taken care of me, and I kind of didn’t want to share that, even if it was silly.

“So, talk to me about normal stuff,” I said, coming back to the table where we all sat down. “How’s the hospital?” I asked Sebbie, “And what book are you working on now?” I asked Toby.

They started chatting, and we all ate. They occasionally glanced at my face for a little too long or looked at my wrist, but overall they acted like it was a typical evening.

Yeah, there was a lot to deal with, and I’d have to tell them more, but we had time for that.

I was glad to pretend that life was normal for a little while.