Page 197 of Sinful Like Us

I hold her gaze. “You don’t need to apologize. I feel safe, but I feel safe most places.”

Jane nods once, like I did, and cups wine between tense hands.

My ears ring in her silence. And I focus on my talk with Farrow hours ago. He said he was going to take Maximoff out to dinner and lay down every singlehorrificdetail that occurred in this house.

I agreed to do the same for Jane.

We’re both just praying they’ll consider moving.

“I have to tell you what happened here,” I explain.

She inhales a sharp breath. “Must you?”

I nod. “You have to know.”

She takes a dainty sip of wine, then places the glass down. “Okay.” She folds her arms on the table. “I’m ready.”

With steaming pasta between me and my girlfriend, I have visions ofLady and the Tramp—but this is a fucked-up version of a Disney movie. Especially with the next words out of my mouth.

“He masturbated on your bed, Jane.” Direct. To-the-point.

She blinks a few times.

I’m more specific. “The police found his semen on your bed.” My muscles are flexed, just seeing her cage breath.

She reaches for her wine, thinks against it, and bends over to the floor. I watch Jane hoist Lady Macbeth, and her childhood black cat curls up on her lap. I realize, pasta is my comfort.

Her cats are hers.

Jane strokes her fur. “I thought…perhaps, the culprit just touched my bed, and that’s why you changed the duvet.”

“I threw away everything: the sheets, the blankets.” I pause. “The mattress is new too.”

She fights a swell of emotion. “Thank you.” Her eyes redden, hand staying still on her cat’s belly.

I want to hold Jane. Cup her cheeks in my hands and tell her that I have her six. That for as long as I live, no one on this earth will touch her with ill intent or hatred or harm.

I can’t.

I can’t give her a false sense of security. And I don’t want her to normalize what stalkers andrevoltingpricks do. We can avoid them better in a gated location.

“Security called himSneakers,” I explain. “Because he always wore these dated white-scuffed sneakers whenever he stopped by the house.”

She blows out a short, controlled breath. “Is he a heckler?”

“A fan, or really, a suitor from your grandmother’s newspaper ad.”

“Oh.” Her chin trembles a little and she breathes in, the deepest breath she can.

“He was allowed to walk past the house. As much as he wanted.”

Jane nods.

“He was allowed to park outside the house. It’s public property.” I take a beat. “He was in his mid-forties, almost your dad’s age. And the first time he was caught, he was masturbating in his car outside this townhouse.”

Her lips slowly part. “Oh God…he’s done it before?”

I nod. “A restraining order was filed, which he broke. He’s not the first, second, third, or last fuckbag that I’ve slapped with a restraining order. He won’t be the last man to break into this townhouse either.” I grip her gaze with severity. “I feel safe. You feel safe, but the truth is, you aren’t safe here. Maximoff isn’tsafe here. Neither are Luna and Sulli.”