Page 22 of Exes and Oh Hell No

So not a date.

Definitely not a date.

Right?

I roll onto my side, eyes drifting to my window.

Across the silvery waters of the lake, his house rests still and silent, a shadowed outline of my past.

An image of the rage on Ford’s face causes me to shiver.

It was primal.

Raw.

Dark.

Like he was ready to burn down the world to protect me.

I blow out a breath, shaking my head at how ridiculous I’m being.

Real life men don’t go around burning the world down for their girl.

Only fictional men do that.

I roll onto my back, trying to rationalize dinner with Ford.

I only agreed to it because tonight was supposed to be about closure.

That’s all it will ever be.

Even if I’m not entirely convinced.

I must have dozedoff because the next thing I know, I’m jerked awake by the crash of glass shattering beside me.

A scream rips through my throat as I bolt upright, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Cold night air rushes in through the broken window, sharp and biting.

Moonlight glints off the shards of glass scattered across my bed and floor.

I grab my phone, my hand trembling, and wince when my finger grazes a jagged piece. Blood wells, a sharp sting piercing my skin.

I shove my finger into my mouth, the metallic taste filling my tongue.

My breath is ragged and uneven.

My pulse pounds against my skull.

I flick on the flashlight on my phone.

Shining it around the room, the light catches on an object near the en suite bathroom.

A dark shape.

I creep closer, the wooden floor cold beneath my bare feet.

The closer I get, the more distinct it becomes.

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