Page 3 of Make You Mine

Neighbors are family. End of.

Tonight, though, it feels as though the world’s stopped—the beautiful town I’ve built my life in is empty. Desolate. Void of life.

“Wonder where everyone’s tonight. Did I miss a special event announcement?” We’ve had those before. Have one scheduled for next weekend; the governing HOA likes to host outdoorparties or BBQ festivals at different venues near the downtown area for the families that live here.

Lifting my wrist, I check the time on my watch, and it’s only fifteen minutes after seven. Not late at all, and with summer near its end, I’ve come to expect the scents of cooking to greet my senses the closer to home I get.

“Not tonight, I guess.” Shrugging, I give my neck a quick stretch side to side before taking the next right turn. The family-oriented subdivision I’m walking through is the closest to my bakery. In a cluster of three, the communities dominate a huge roundabout with an impressive water fountain at the center—this one is the first exit, and it holds a feature none of the others do.

Beyond the charming houses adorned with quaint, seasonal outdoor decor lies a community garden I fell in love with. It’s nestled between my block and the next two, toward the back end and in the middle, where there’s a shortcut I take on nights like these.

My house also sits at the center of my street, and while I usually avoid low-lit areas, taking this pathway will get me there quicker than the normal route. Besides, no one hides behind a strawberry tree, much less baby ones at that. The new plants are barely visible above the ground, just leaves and a couple of vines, while tomatoes a few rows down look to be ready for picking.

Just a few more minutes, and my poor, tired body will be able to crash for the day. I need a good soak in my clawfoot?—

The sudden hoot of an owl causes me to jump, its sound echoing, and I look up to find it perched atop a power line. Its presence—the way it watches me with its head slightly tilted to the side and those sharp eyes following my every move—unnerves me as I pass beneath its large body.

“Almost home,” I mutter under my breath, trying to ignore the way my erratic heartbeat matches the sharp sounds the largeanimal emits. My hands visibly shake as I fix the strap of my cross-body bag, and yet, when a woman’s scream suddenly rends the air, I freeze.

The sound is bone-chilling.

Pain-filled horror.

And fear, that unforgiving monster, takes over my limbs as everything around me goes deathly still once again. Too quiet.

What the?I cock my head, leaning back a bit to see if another sound follows, but I’m met with nothing. A deathly nothing. An eerie nothing outside of a more subdued hoot from the owl still perched above me.

“Keep walking, Ava. It’s more than likely someone watching a horror flick nearby.”Maybe it’s coming from the house a little farther up.I force myself to take a step, and then another, cursing my newest shop assistant for burning two trays of orange cranberry muffins until they were nothing more than a charred crisp—an incident/disaster that’s taught me two valuable lessons as I mentally repeat that I’m safe.

Cleaning trays with burned fruit is a nightmare. That, and I should’ve filled my gas tank instead of deciding a late evening stroll was good for me after a day of nibbling on treats because right now, as I rush through the empty garden, I feel idiotic.

Especially on a night when it seems the neighborhood is desolate.

“Keep calm. Nothing’s wrong…just keep walking.” It leaves me on a gasp when the heavy crash of something metal and then glass rings through the air, followed quickly by another sharp scream of pain. My eyes shift, my mind running frantically while trying to pinpoint where the danger is coming from, and that’s when I notice I’ve taken a wrong turn.

This exit leads to two-story homes on what looks to be a cul-de-sac, and the lot beside me on the left seems under heavy remodel as I step onto the paved road. Moreover, theovergrowth partially blocks my view past what’s a few feet from me. This is also out of the norm in a neighborhood where every lawn is manicured to look exactly like its neighbors.

No weeds.

No leaves.

No garbage.

My hand trembles as I pull out an old cell phone from my back pocket, and even more so when I dial 911. An operator answers, asking me how he can help, but words evade me.

It’s hard to breathe, much less answer past the knot in my throat.

“Please stop!” the woman being attacked cries out, and my chest grows tight. I still can’t see them.

“Shut the fuck up,” a male voice growls out, and the sound of a hard smack comes seconds after. She sobs, the garbled pleas becoming louder, and I can’t explain why it sounds as if they’re closer. “You deserve this and so much more, whore. Now beg.”

Oh God.I begin to shake because I know this voice. The low timbre conjures images of him coming into my shop. Of him asking me out on a date various times in the last few months.

The way he told me just this morning that someday I would behis.

The bakery’s bell chimes above the entrance, signaling a new customer, and I look up, almost cringing when Jason’s eyes immediately meet mine. He’s a loyal customer at Cherry On Top, always too polite, yet his flirting borders on pushy. Not that he’s done anything, but the vibe is always there.

Off. Weird. Creepy.

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