Page 20 of Finding Home with You

We arrive home and Ryan strips off his clothes and heads for the shower in the hopes of sobering up before his drive home.

I make my way to the kitchen, putting a frozen pizza in the oven and a pot of coffee on, because Ryan’s going to need all the help he can get to sober up and stay awake.

After a few hours, several slices of burnt pizza and many cups of coffee, Ryan is dressed and ready to head back to Boston. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t totally devastated, but I try not to show it.

Ryan leans back against the sink, his hands resting on either side of him. Dressed in a pair of fitted jeans, a blazer, and a tight gray sweater with his hair styled messily and his beautiful chiseled face staring back at me, I giggle.

“What?” he asks with a look on his face that seems almost annoyed.

“Do people really take you seriously? You look like a fucking GQ model.”

“Yes, Miss Connelly, people take me very seriously.” His eyes are on fire now as he pulls back his jacket revealing his holstered gun and a set of handcuffs. “And if you don’t believe me, I might just have to handcuff your beautiful ass to the bed and show you just how authoritative I can be.”

“If only we had another hour,” I murmur back, winking at him.

“Another day, Red. Another day,” Ryan says as he holds his hand out to me. When I put my hand in his, he gives me a gentle tug until I’m in his arms. We stand like this for what feels like forever and Ryan whispers in my ear, “Don’t get pissed at me, my little minx, but I’m gonna miss you.”

I giggle and press my mouth to his before I walk him out to his car. Ryan’s hand is warm in mine as the cold air hits me causing goose bumps to rise up on my skin and I shudder a little.

It’s late, nearly ten p.m. and the town of Rockport has long since gone to sleep. The only sign of life is the sound of the waves lapping at the shoreline behind my house. It’s peaceful, and it’s why I moved here.

It won’t take Ryan more than an hour to get back to Boston at this time of the night, but I still tell him to be safe and to text me when he gets to the station. I don’t care how late it is, and even if I don’t get his text until the morning, it will still make me feel better.

We try not to drag out our good-byes, but it still happens and finally after at least ten minutes, Ryan is backing out of my driveway. I watch his taillights disappear down the road as a slow sadness washes over me. I stand outside, letting the cold air settle on my skin as I listen to the waves. I’m waiting for this feeling to pass, waiting for the grip that clutches at my heart to ease up.

As I stand there something cuts through the silence; a car, the tires moving slowly along the road, and I smile for a second, but that fades when I don’t recognize the car.

It stops short of pulling into my driveway and the driver cuts the lights, stepping out of the vehicle. Even through the darkness of the night I can feel this person’s eyes on me, watching me.

My heart begins to race, launching itself into my throat as I throw myself back into my house, slamming and locking the door behind me. I run and grab my gun and my phone, and that’s when the pounding begins.

The person on the other side of my door doesn’t say anything at first, just their fist banging against my door and echoing through the silence. It’s meant to scare me and it’s working. I’m fucking terrified.

It feels like it goes on forever.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

My hands are shaking and I can feel the tears fall from my eyes, but no sound leaves my mouth. I’m paralyzed with fear. I know I should call someone.

Finn.

Beck.

Ryan.

Anyone at this point, but I can’t pull myself together. My body begins to lose all sense of control as I collapse on the floor. I’m not usually like this and I need to respond, need to let this fucker know that I’m not afraid, but my own fear has made me a different person.

“Open the door!” the voice yells now, and a sob leaves my lips. “I know you’re home. I just saw you.” And the pounding begins again, but I know that in order to make this stop I need to respond in some way. Whether it’s calling Finn or calling the police or opening the door, I need to get it together.

I suck in a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself and then I dial Finn’s number. He picks up on the first ring and I immediately feel a sense of relief when I hear his voice.

“Erin,” he bites out before I can say anything. He knows.

“Someone is here,” I choke out, my voice weak and shaky.

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