Page 45 of The Guy Next Door

That evening, when I hear Mom and Dad pull into the driveway, I grab a hoodie from the front closet and throw it on, then open the door. Even with the hoodie on, I can feel my nipples hardening as a cool breeze rushes inside. I slide my crocs on and hurry to help them with their bags.

As I offer them hugs, I say, “I’m surprised you guys made it. Figured Linda might have found a way to get you on a return flight.”

“We’re surprised too,” Dad says, wide-eyed, his expression hinting at the hell the past couple of weeks have been for them.

“Even if they call,” Mom says, “we’re not going back for at least a week. God, it’s cold out here. I think it was warmer in Indiana.”

“It was lovely before y’all got here,” I say, “so I think you brought this weather with you.”

“Back for less than five minutes, and we’re responsible for the weather already,” Mom says with a smile.

I help them pull their bags inside. Dad checks the back door the locksmith fixed, then joins us at the kitchen table, where Mom’s catching me up about their trip and how Linda, my aunt Cathy, and my cousins are.

I should be eager to see them, but I’m tense. On edge. And not just about being deprived of sex.

I’m worried they might be in danger here, but if Zane’s right and someone was trying to abduct me, it’s possible they were doing it when my parents were gone because they don’t want to make a production of it. And if that’s their MO, then I doubt they’ll do something that will keep them from being able to hunt again. Of course, I don’t dismiss the reality that my parents might be more creeped out by finding out there’s a guy next door watching our house, keeping an eye on their son…and who just so happened to get off with him last night.

Yeah…lots of things they’re probably better off not knowing.

“So tell us what you’ve been up to,” Mom says once she finishes showing me pics of the cousins and their new cat. “And while you’re telling me, if you broiled a roast, I could eat about half of one right about now.”

I laugh, heading to the fridge. “I don’t have a roast, but I have some meatballs I can heat up.” I pull the container out and start heating them up in a pan.

“How have you been feeling?” Dad asks. “All right?”

I remind myself they mean well, but I can hear much more behind their words when they ask how I’m doing, which makes sense given how bad it got, but I wish I could just shake them and get them to stop worrying about me.

Although, sometimes I worry too, so I can’t blame them.

“I’m feeling good,” I say, stirring the meatballs.

“You see anybody while we were gone?” Mom asks, which makes me nearly do a double take, her words catching me off guard. “Any of your friends?” she presses.

Of course that’s what she means, dumbass.“Oh, no. Everyone’s in school right now. Studying, finishing up projects.”

“Have you talked to Steven?”

Steven’s one of my buddies I roomed with at the dorms. He always tries to reach out to catch up, but I haven’t talked to him recently.

“No, he’s texted me a bit about this new pickleball league he joined, but I need to give him a call.”

She and Dad are quiet for a few moments before she says, “I wish you had some company and not be cooped up in this house all day long.”

I consider what I should share, but I think this is a safe way to bring up Zane. “I actually met the guy who’s renting the place next door.”

“The one you said was creepy?”

“One and the same.” I chuckle. That wasn’t so long ago, and it’s wild to think how much has happened in the short time since I thought he was trying to kill me. “After he grabbed that can I dropped, we started talking. He’s a pretty friendly guy. Well,friendlymight not be the word. He has afriendlierside to him than I thought.”

“When did you talk to him?”

“He came by, actually.” Like when I talked to that detective, it’s probably better to be as honest as I can and skirt around the truth.

“Came by?” Dad asks. “Why?”

Hmm. Finding a half-truth for this bit isn’t going to be as easy… “He wanted to make sure I was okay after the burglary.” That’s reasonably close to the truth.

The meatballs sizzle in the pan, and I stir them around as Dad asks, “But everything’s been fine since?”

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