Page 89 of Hunt for You

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let her in… even if I wanted to. But that was the problem. Ididwant to.

Muttering a curse, I looked at the clock. It was only four. But I knew I wouldn’t sleep anymore, so with a low groan, I got out of bed to strip the sheets and start the laundry, feeling grim.

By the time I was sitting out in the chill morning watching the sun rise, I knew my life was fucked.

And not in the good way.

31. Service for One

~ BRIDGET ~

I was woken by a pounding on the door that startled me out of sleep and sent my pulse through the roof.

And because the sound broke me out of a nightmare, it took several seconds to remember that Ronaldwasn’toutside my house, and hehadn’tkilled Cain.

But then the pounding started again—on the front door—and I realized it was real.

I threw back the covers and raced through the house, grabbing my hoodie from the foot of the bed and throwing it on over my pajamas before I got to the door.

When I opened it, there was a balding guy with a potbelly stomach, holding a clipboard and looking annoyed on the other side. The morning sun was bright—I’d slept in—and there was a huge truck in the street outside my house… with my car on the bed in the back of it.

I blinked, first at him, then at the car, then back at him.

He thrust the clipboard towards me, tapping one spot on it with the pen he held in the other hand. “Your car, right? You gotta sign here that you received it safe,” he growled.

I blinked again, then took the clipboard from him and scanned the paper quickly.

Tony’s Tow

“Wait… you towed my car?”

The guy grunted. “Your boyfriend paid for it to be towed here, said you couldn’t drive last night.”

Cain? Or Ronald because he was wracked with guilt?

My hands were shaking as I signed and I couldn’t breathe right. But as soon as I handed it back to him, he took it without a look, then whistled at the guy in the truck.

I stood on my concrete path in bare feet, feeling a little faint, and hugging myself as they maneuvered the truck into my driveway and rolled my car off the back of it.

Then they were gone—ignoring my wave—and I walked back into the house rubbing my eyes and trying to feel like I was real.

The world seemed distorted.

After that initial shock wore off, my heart felt sluggish, like my blood was too thick and cold, and my skin was too tight, pulling against me, trying to suck me out of myself.

I tried to eat, but a wave of nausea hit on the first bite, so I put the yogurt back in the fridge and took a shower instead.

And then I put on sweats and a loose hoodie because I couldn’t stand the feeling of anything tight on my skin, and I paced the floor of my living room for an hour.

My mind kept flashing back to that moment that Ronald had me pinned on the ground and I couldn’t breathe. And my lungs would freeze.

Then I’d remember how Cain tore him off me, and my lungs would inflate again.

Over and over.

I tried logging into the forum, ignoring the DMs from Nate and a couple others, only checking to see if Cain was online—but he wasn’t. Or at least, he wasn’t visible.

And I didn’t know what to say, even if he was. So I said nothing. And I thought about what Gerald would have to say about me not having words.

---