Page 21 of Done Waiting

Shaking my head, I lay back on my bed, my thoughts racing. Stress and grief have given me a headache and made me tired.

With a sigh, I sit up, grabbing the stuffed dog. I’m missing my dad so much right now, and I wish he were here to give me a hug and some guidance.

Lying on my side, my body curling around the stuffed animal, hot tears course down my cheeks. Profound loneliness sinks into my bones, the stillness of the house even more acute.

Before long, my eyes grow heavy. As I drift off, an image of the hot guy in the leather jacket and hoodie infiltrates my thoughts. Only this time, when I picked up the roses from the porch, he walked up to me, his smile making my body tremble. I licked my lips, and he did the same. And like a moth to a flame, our bodies crashed together, his lips on mine.

When I wake, the room has grown darker as the sun begins to set. Crawling out of bed, I head over to the window and look down at the maple tree. No one is there and a swell of disappointment washes through me.

Stop it, Maddie.First, your odd reaction to him, and now you’re dreaming about him?

Even as I admonish myself, my heart speeds up when I think of that guy’s smile and dimple as he holds those flowers in his hands, extending them to me. The image is so vivid, I can see the trail of blood on his hand from the thorns that pricked his skin.

Shaking my head, I drag myself from the window, grabbing my phone. I decide to text my boss, Daya, and ask if I can work a few hours after the reading of my dad’s will, figuring I’ll need the distraction.

There are no unread texts from Ben, nor any texts at all from Chloe. I thought they’d text to ask if I was coming home.

Clearly, they don’t want you there.

My head lifts from my phone, moving to the window. I stand, drawn to it, the sun lowering over the horizon in the distance.

Standing in front of my window, my gaze lowers to the tree outside my window. One large branch extends to my window. I marvel at how much it’s grown over the years before a smile curves my lips.

Opening the window, I crawl out it, swinging my legs onto the large branch. Memories of climbing this tree under my dad’s watchful eyes, my legs swinging from branches my lower than this, assault me.

Turning my head, I watch the sun sink lower before disappearing, leaving behind breathtaking colors that streak across the sky. My legs dangle, the light breeze caressing my hair like a lover’s tender hands, pushing it away from my face. I have no idea why, and the thoughts are so wrong, but I immediately think of the guy with the beautiful smile and dimple in his left cheek.

It’s just a fantasy. He can be anyone you want.

Feeling buoyed by the thought, I close my eyes, losing myself in the fantasy.

Iimagine him sitting behind me, his strong arms wrapping around me, pulling me against his muscular chest. The smell of his leather jacket infiltrates my nose as he shifts, his chin on my shoulder, hot breaths flowing on my skin.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I imagine myself breathlessly whispering to him.

“You sure are.”

My head tilts, moving from his seductive smile to the longing in his dark eyes.

A wistful smile curves my lips. “Don’t leave me. I can’t stand being alone any longer.”

“Never.” His voice is a hoarse whisper, full of promises. “I’d never leave you, Maddie.”

9

THE STALKER

Ismile from my vantage point behind the trees, watching Maddie sitting on the very branch I crawled on last night as I slipped inside her room. She looks breathtakingly beautiful with her legs dangling, feet bare, watching the sun dip over the horizon, then disappear from view. A mournful sigh leaves her as she stares at the sky, sadness lining her face. It’s as though the sun setting sucked every bit of joy and peace from her, leaving behind a sadness that radiates from her to me.

I fucking hate it. My jaw tightens as I stare at her slack expression before her chin and lips quiver. She looks so fucking lonely that I nearly cave, wanting so damned desperately to climb up that tree and wrap my arms around her.

It’s not because you care about her. It’s because you want to be the one causing her pain.

Golden locks blow around her, lifting in the breeze. She’s exquisite as her feet swing back and forth, her hands curling on the branch beneath her.

My brows raise as she scoots back, reminding me of an inchworm, until her back presses against the bark of the tree. She closes her eyes, a wistful expression on her face.

What is she thinking?

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