Page 71 of Puppy Love

I shoot him a glare, but he just returns it with a sickly-sweet smile. Then his gaze grows serious, his expression soft.

“Really though,” he says, his head tilting slightly to look at me. “You’re really okay? With everything that happened and letting it all go?”

I know Hayden is just trying to take care of me. He’s like Adrian in that way, always trying to help other people. But I don’t know how many times it’s going to take to convince him I really am fine. Maybe part of it is because I haven’t fully confronted it, but I think Violet got the gist. I’m more disappointed in myself than anything else. I was convinced, for a fleeting moment, that I really was moving on.

“I’m fine,” I say again, putting extra emphasis on the “fine.” Hayden chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’m proud of you, Cam,” he says, his hand sliding over to squeeze mine. I smile. “Just six months ago, you wouldn’t let me toss a piece of lint, and now look at you with your no-strings attached and your—” He picks up the greasy paper bag. “Sauceless french fries.”

I scowl, snatching the bag from his hand.

To be fair, that piece of lint came from Dawson’s first plushie. It’s dead now, of course. The eyes went first. But I kept one of the little tufts of fur that fell off on the way to the garbage can.

“I thought you were here to make me feel better.”

Hayden stands up, walking over to the refrigerator. He pulls out a container of mayonnaise, then reaches in again, grabbing a bottle of ketchup.

“Why would I need to make you feel better if you’re fine?” He shoots me a taunting smile over his shoulder, and I flip him off.

“What are you doing?”

Hayden walks closer to me with a bowl in his hand, whisking a spoon around inside it to mix something up. His gaze flicks up to me, and he holds the bowl out in my direction.

“Making you fry sauce.”

We don’t talk about it after that. Not much at least. He shoots me worried glances every now and then, and I pretend I don’t see them and stare at the Dahmer documentary playing on the television instead. When Hayden leaves, I practically drown in those big, lanky arms of his.

“I appreciate you,” I say, squeezing him tightly.

Hayden brushes the back of my head with his hand.

“I appreciate you too, Cam.” He beckons Major to his side and hooks his harness around his body. “Call me if you need me?”

I nod, and Hayden steps out the front door into the cold winter night.

My head snaps up, my body bent in an unnatural position from passing out on my apartment-sized couch.

“What she didn’t know,” says a voice on the television, deep and pronounced. “…is that something more sinister was waiting for her inside.”

I sit up, wiping a smudge of drool off the side of my cheek in the process as I scramble to find the remote. If falling asleep to serial-killer documentaries could get you on a watch list, I’d be on the FBI’s Most Wanted. The screen goes black when I press the off button, the voice coming to an abrupt end. But I jump back, my heart thrumming against my ribcage, when it’s replaced by a loud knock ringing through the living room.

Dawson erupts into an uncontrollable fit of barking, which seems to be a theme for him lately. I groan, peeling myself off of the couch.

Hayden must have forgotten something.

“Shh,” I shush Dawson, scooting him to the side as I open the door.

But there isn’t a tall, charming, blonde-haired man towering over me. Instead, I jump backwards, clutching my chest as I stare directly at a blood-soaked Violet.

“I didn’t know where to go.”

twenty-four

One to Ten

Violet

Idon’t recall exactly how I got to Cam’s. I drove, I’m sure of it, because my car keys are still gripped in my hand. But the roads I took, the entire drive here, I can’t remember any of it. I can’t even remember deciding I was going to come. I just know I’m standing in her living room, Reese’s blood soaked into my clothing.

---