Page 75 of Heart So Hollow

Dallas is Colson’s sister?

They don’t even look alike. Dallas has long, straight, black hair and she’s barely five feet tall. She always wears thick-rimmed black glasses, bright red or pink lipstick, and impeccable eyeliner.

“Really?” I scrunch up my nose, “I never would’ve guessed.”

And how does Abby know any of this?

“Yeah,” she looks over her shoulder as I follow her down the row, “I saw them in the break room on his first day and I was like, please introduce me! And have you seen his eyes? Like, are they even real?”

Yes, Abby, I have. Yes, they’re real. And no, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

Dallas Barrera is Colson Lutz’s sister.

I marinate on this fact all the way back to my office. This information could be useful, I just need to figure out how. Dallas is one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. She’s also very chatty. And this is exactly why I make a mental note that I should take a walk across the building to her office to kill some time.

First, I just have to get up the nerve.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Hollow Watcher

One Year Ago

When something really bothers her, Brett does this thing where she goes very still and almost looks catatonic. She does it when she’s scared, too. She might scream or cry at first—like a jump scare—but then she gets quiet. And that’s when the fun really begins. She tries to work out problems in her head and resolve them instead of drawing attention to herself.

She’s admirable. She never wants to believe things are as bad as they seem. She always tries to be her own savior. But she can’t do that this time. Because she’s in deep, and I’m the only one who can save her. Eventually, she’s going to think she’s hit rock bottom, but that’s when I’ll have her right where I want her, and then I’m going to make everything all better again for her.

Watching her find that pile of bricks in the middle of the driveway was spectacular. And watching her sweat about it all day really did it for me. I didn’t even expect that. Kind of like how I didn’t expect him to show up out of nowhere to fuck shit up. I’m looking at him right now, oblivious to the fact that I’m so close. But who really looks at the people around them while they’re pumping gas anyway?

He and I are more similar than I’d like to admit; tall, nice hair, fit, clean shaven, tattoos. Her taste is pretty good, after all. And he looks strong enough to easily toss her around.

Like me.

I realize this is who she is. She likes us big enough to inflict some damage. And she hides it well. She’s always been independent and self-sufficient, with her routines and her meticulously organized life, but when you dig deep and start getting in her head, you find out she wants her man to run her shit. She’d never admit it, but she likes to be scared and she loves the adrenaline.

She likes to fight.

Eventually, she’ll get over her weak moral hang-ups and accept it. I’ve seen it before—when she’s stolen glances, when she smiled and didn’t think I’d see. She pushes back and acts like she has control over the situation, like she’s the one making the decisions. But I just have to be patient and wait her out. I’ve waited this long to find her, what’s a few more weeks…months…of playing her game?

Of playing my game.

He gets back into his vehicle and picks up his phone. He’s probably texting her. That motherfucker, trying to take what’s mine. Showing up out of nowhere like a case of herpes on prom night just to fuck with me. So, what else is new…

But I can’t blame him. Who wouldn’t want to be with Brett? I’ll let him live the dream for a little while longer and believe he has a shred of a chance with her before I make sure he never sees or hears from her again. And that’s the best part—it’ll be her that destroys him from the inside out. I’ll just sit back and watch it happen.

Not that I wouldn’t do it myself. Thinking about how he’s touched her, I wouldn’t mind lighting him up, maybe take a few of his fingers with me. And what would he do?

Call the police?

Don’t make me laugh. As if that’s even a threat. It’s not anything I haven’t dealt with before. And, just like last time, I’ll answer their questions, everyone will cry some more, nothing will happen, it’ll fade into obscurity, and life will go on.

For some of us.

I glance down at my phone sitting in the console and I feel the urge to fire a text off to her, too. She wouldn’t even have to know it was me. But I don’t. I’ll save that for later.

He pulls out of the lot and so do I. I’ll follow him a little longer, just for fun.

I wonder if she’s told him about me yet. I wish I could see the look on his face the moment she says my name. Fuck, I love it when she says my name…

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