Page 61 of Jett in Jeopardy

I pulled up next to the curb on the opposite side of the street from The Dunes but hesitated before getting out. After that night at Brody’s, I’d made a promise to myself to get my shit together and figure out what I was going to do with my life—and I sure as hell was no further ahead than I had been a month ago.

I reached for the door handle but hesitated again.

Not being any further ahead in getting my life together wasn’t entirely correct. I mean, the situation with Brody was a hot mess, but that was on me. Falling for a guy who was still in love with his dead husband was not smart—but pretty on-brand for me.

On the other hand, figuring out who my stalker was and why they were screwing around with my life had been a fairly important step to getting my life back on track.

And I’d succeeded. I’d figured out Simon had been behind the fire, the break-ins, and even me losing my job. I’d even managed to get a confession out of him and record it for the cops—admittedly, I’d also had the shit kicked out of me, but I’d still done it. It was just a matter of time before he was arrested.

If I went to talk to Paula and told her about everything that had happened, proved to her that Simon had made everything up because he was an obsessed stalker determined to ruin my life, would she give me my job back? She might, especially now that she’d be down two employees since Simon had all but vanished.

Maybe I’d reach out after the holidays.

A strange sort of confidence swelled in my chest as I climbed out of my car. I still was no closer to knowing what I was going to do with the rest of my life, but I had time. At least I figured out who’d been messing with me and Grier and Alistair for the past five months in a single month. Surely, I could work out what I was going to do with the rest of my life before graduation.

I looked up at The Dunes across the street, and my heart ached. Whatever my future held, I wished Brody would be a part of it.

I sighed, then hurried across the street, tucking my chin to my chest against the icy drizzle that had started to fall, leaving behind tiny drops clinging to my coat and hair. I slipped down the alley at the side of the bar to the lot out back.

I could have parked here, but I was trying to keep a low profile. Not exactly easy while driving a canary yellow Jeep, and if the blinding color wasn’t distinctive enough, I had had a deep gouge running the length of the driver’s side from door to almost the back of the Jeep courtesy of Simon that made my car even more recognizable.

I just wanted to get into Brody’s place, get my things, and go home. I didn’t want any awkward conversations or pep talks, any,“You’re a great guy, and I’ll call you sometime”. No thanks. That’s why I waited two days before coming here—and hadn’t called or texted Brody to let him know I was picking up my stuff. I knew for sure he would be working during the day and his apartment would be empty, meaning I would be in and out with no drama.

Once inside his place, I closed the door and leaned back against it. The open kitchen and living room were dark thanks to the gloomy weather outside, unusually quiet, and strangely looked exactly the way they did the last time I’d been here, just before leaving to meet Simon.

I don’t know what I’d expected to find. It hadn’t even been a week since I last slept here, but maybe I hadn’t expected to see so much of myself still prominently displayed in Brody’s space. My laptop and textbooks were still in a pile in the middle coffee table.

I had packed up most of my clothes that last night I spent here. After finding the photo album filled with pictures of Brody and his husband, I’d feared I’d overstayed my welcome. Of course, that night, we’d fucked, and I’d thought maybe not. Guess I’d been right the first time, considering how things turned out. Still, my duffel bag was exactly where I’d left it—thrown on the chair in the corner of Brody’s room.

Most surprising of all was finding my toiletries still in Brody’s bathroom. They’d been tidied since I left them scattered across the counter before rushing out to meet Simon, but everything else was still there, as if waiting for me to return.

Something low inside me tightened.

“Don’t be stupid,” I whispered. If Brody had wanted for me to come back, I would have heard from him long before now.

I quickly gathered my things from the bathroom and shoved them into the duffel bag before hauling it onto my shoulder. Then I went back out into the living room for my computer and books but hesitated before gathering them up.

It felt weird to just grab my things and go without a word. Admittedly, Brody had retreated from me without saying anything, so maybe I didn’t owe him. Still, just taking off like this didn’t feel right. I could leave him a note, at least. Scribble a quick thank you for letting me stay here.

I leaned down over the coffee table and tore a lined sheet of paper from my spiral ring notebook. A pen. I needed a pen. There had to be one around here somewhere.

The front door clicked open, and I froze, closing my eyes.Shit. So much for avoiding awkward conversations. I should have just left when I had the chance.

Brody said nothing. He must have just been standing in the doorway, shocked to find me lurking around his apartment or furious since I’d let myself in without asking first. Not one of my finer moments, admittedly.

“I know how this looks,” I said, straightening and turning to the door.

Everything inside me turned to ice, and my stomach swooped down into my shoes.

Simon stood just inside the doorway, a wide grin turning his boyish features oddly maniacal, but even more disconcerting than his smile was the gun he clutched in one hand.

“It looks like a slut came to scratch an itch, but no one’s home. My god, you’re fucking disgusting,” he sneered.

My heart hammered against my chest at double its normal rate. Panic squeezed my throat.

How in the hell was I going to get out of this? Under normal circumstances, like when I didn’t have an attacker sneak up behind me and punch me in the head, I could hold my own in a fight. I was skinny, but fast. But I wasn’t nearly so confident about my abilities while I was still aching and bruised from my last encounter with Simon… or while he was holding a gun on me.

“What do you want?” Maybe I could make a run for the bathroom and lock the door behind me. My phone was in my pants pocket. I could call the police from there. Could I make it before he shot me in the back? I remembered the pictures of him hunting with his father on his photo-sharing app. My odds probably weren’t good.

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