Page 93 of Right Number, Wrong Man
My phone buzzesin my bag as I enter my moonlit apartment. Hands occupied with heavy grocery bags, I kick the door shut behind me and navigate to the kitchen where I shimmy the bags onto the table.
An exhausted sigh escapes me. A small, late-night snack run turned into a full-blown shopping spree. At least I’m totally stocked up on microwave popcorn, chocolate and ice cream for my next movie marathons.
I hang my bag over a chair and take out my phone. My pulse beats faster when I see that the message is from Colt. Since our shooting lesson, we’ve been casually texting back and forth a few times a day. Mostly updates on Gracie.
The vet gave her a clean bill of health, estimating her to be around three years old. She’s already adjusted to living with Colt and the two are inseparable. He even brings her to work. She has a basket, water, and toys in the break room, and he takes her for potty breaks when we have a quiet moment.
I open the text and find an image titledthe smallest cowgirl. I can’t stop myself from letting out a squeal, butGracie sitting in Colt’s hat is too cute. Giggling, I save the picture to my special Gracie folder.
I’m a shameless collector.
I swipe through the other images I saved, one more adorable than the next. Gracie sleeping on Colt’s bed. Gracie chewing on a bone-shaped toy twice her size. A very blurry Gracie with a case of the zoomies after her first bath.
When I get to the picture of us three at the picnic, my heart turns upside down.
Our honest conversation changed everything. I’ve never felt so light and unburdened. Before we talked it out, I never realized what an emotional strain our fights put on me.
And our new friendship? It’s wonderful. What a waste that we spent so much time arguing over nothing when we could’ve had a genuine connection.
I snicker, typing a response to Colt’s text.
Please tell my stepdaughter Gracie that she’s the cutest, sweetest, most adorable cowgirl in the world. I think we might need to get her a tiny cowboy hat to?—
“Hailey,” a quiet voice permeates the room.
I jump and spin around, hitting the light switch, but nothing happens.
“This isn’t funny, Jax!” I shout. “Stop skulking around in the dark and turn on the breaker immediately!”
The idiot must’ve taken my fantasy too seriously. He probably thought I’d be thrilled if he broke in.
A foreign shadow moves through the doorframe and my stomach cramps. This man is too short. Too skinny.
This isn’t Jax.
The figure steps into the moonlight and chills rush up my spine.
“Justin?” I choke out. “What… why?—”
His features twist with primal rage as he whips a hand from behind his back. He points a massive knife at me, slashing through the air, and my blood curdles.
“I thought we had something special! I thought we werein love!” he shouts. “But you humiliated me! First you get into the car with that asshole from the theater, and now I hear that you’re whoring around with some other guy called Jax? I thought you were different, but you’re like all the other sluts who had it coming!”
A cold sweat coats my brow.Justin has been watching me? And what does he mean by theothers?
My mouth goes dry. Anxiety and adrenaline rush through me, but I’ve seen too many horror movies to fuck this up. I can’t let this delusional asshole win.
He clearly thinks we’re in some sort of relationship, and it seems my best bet is to play along for now.
I swallow the terror tightening my neck like a noose and force myself to giggle, granting me a moment longer to come up with a convincing lie. “It’s not what you think! Colt asked me to help pick new carpet for the screening room. A woman’s touch, you know? And Jax is a friend from high school. Her full name is Jacqueline. She has a spare key to water my plants when I’m traveling, but she loves to play pranks on me.”
“Is that so?” Justin asks and when he smiles, I finally realize what’s wrong with his face.
His eyes.
They’re dead. Two pits of nothingness behind his round glasses.
How the hell do I get out of this situation in one piece?
