If I broke up with them now, before things moved further along, there was a chance they would all stay friends.
As I walked home from the Pickleball courts, that realization is what pushed me over the edge. No matter how much it would hurt, I had to do it soon.
Maybe even tonight.
I had been so absorbed with my thoughts that I wasn’t really looking where I was going; my feet knew the way home, and that was fine. But I suddenly looked up from the pavement and saw a man standing in front of me.
I didn’t recognize him; he was a total stranger wearing baggy clothes with camo print, like a hunter. His hood was up, and I couldn’t see his face. He was reaching into the mailbox, and froze when he saw me. He seemed just as surprised as I was.
That’s when I realized what house I was standing in front of. The one with the faded fence and warning signs surrounding the property. Unmowed grass and blinds that were always drawn.
I looked at the man with his hand in the mailbox and felt my heart skip a beat.Voldemort!
“Sorry,” I stammered, taking a step back. “I was just… I didn’t mean to…”
Panicking, I turned and tried to run away.
And ran straight into a street lamp.
54
Jazz
I was in one of those dreams where I was distantly aware that I was dreaming, but have the presence of mind to care.
Aiden, Dante, and Bash were in bed with me. Ahugebed, impossibly large, like the entire floor of this room was one giant mattress. Plenty of room for us to have our naughty fun. I was kissing Dante, who passed me over to Bash. I blinked and he became Aiden, while the other two planted soft kisses on my back and legs.
I surrendered to howgoodthey all felt. Muscles and lips and fingers, wonderful fingers, everywhere I turned. Three was the perfect amount; I wasn’t sure how I had ever been satisfied with just one boyfriend before.
I didn’t want it to end.
Strong arms held me by the shoulders and shook me. Gently at first, but then rougher. More urgent.
I blinked my eyes awake, and the face that hovered over me didn’t belong to any of my three lovers. It was an older man, maybe in his sixties, with a pale face. He wore thick-framedglasses that were taped together at the bridge, but behind them were soft, kind eyes. Those eyes immediately made me relax.
Until I realized he was wearing camo-printed clothes. There was a dank, dusty smell. I sat up and quickly took in my surroundings: I was in a living room crowded with boxes and stacks of newspapers, the kind you would find in a hoarder’s home. The window to my right had blackout curtainsandheavy blinds; only a thin sliver of light from the street lamp outside penetrated the room.
Street lamp. That’s what I had run into while trying to get away from Voldemort.
Oh my God.
“No,” I said, trying to suck in enough breath to scream. My throat was closing up, making it difficult.
“Please don’t scream!” the man insisted. He struck out an arm in my direction, but then took a step back, like he was trying his best not to make me uncomfortable.
I closed my mouth shut. Partly because I doubted anyone could hear me inside if I screamed, and partly because he seemed like he genuinely wanted me to relax. And not, like, in a serial killer kind of way.
Alarms were still going off in my head though, insisting I was in danger. I slid my hand into the pocket of my workout shorts and found my phone. Could I dial 911 in my pocket without looking? I doubted it.
“What… what happened?” I asked.
Voldemort tensed, as if I was unsettlinghimand not the other way around. “I was getting my mail. From the mailbox. I do it every night. I pick a time when nobody is out. You’re usually home by now. Or at theotherhouse. But when I was getting mymail, there you were. Standing there. You ran into the lamppost and fell down. I brought you inside.”
He sounded defensive about the whole thing. Like he expected me to get the wrong idea.Or like he had other motivations for bringing you inside, and is now trying to defend himself.
“You knocked yourself out, so I brought you inside,” he repeated stubbornly. There was something off about him.
“That was, um, very nice of you,” I said in my most grateful voice. “But I’m okay now, so I should probably leave…”