Page 48 of Pulse
What will I do if this threat is real? What if it’s not Freddy being a dumbass? Where will I go? What will I do?I can’tsit here indefinitely because, let’s face it, a white knight isn’t coming.
He wouldn’t even have dinner with me tonight.
I snort at the joke even though it wasn’t funny.
“Hey.” Troy appears in the doorway behind me, his hair still damp from his shower. “I couldn’t find you.”
“And you call yourself a professional.”
He gives me a wobbly smile. “Want to go down to the beach?”
“I don’t know. Are you going?”
“Well, you’re not going alone.”
I twist in my seat. “Since we just established that you’re a shit bodyguard, would it really matter if I went alone?”
His smile fades. “I hope you’re kidding.”
“I think we’ve also already established that we don’t always get what we hope for, haven’t we?”
“Okay. You’re pissed.”
“No, Troy, I’m not pissed.I’m tired. I’m confused. I’m trying to have a good attitude about this whole nightmare, but the one person in the entire world who I can talk to just left me sitting by myself at dinner.” I consider my words. “I guess I’m a little testy.”
He runs a hand down his face and sighs. “I’m sorry. I should’ve stayed with you.”
I start to razz him more, but the wariness in his eyes when he looks at me keeps me from it. Besides, I really don’t want to bicker with him, whether I’m half joking or not.
“Fine,” I say, getting up. “Let’s go to the beach.”
“Great,” he mumbles, letting me lead the way.
We walk silently through the house, down the stairs, and onto the back patio. A loggia connects the house to a small building at the edge of the property. It sits beside a gate that opens to the sand.
The grounds behind the house are a storybook. Perfectly manicured landscaping, tiled walkways, and a fountain in the center of the yard create a relaxed atmosphere. Vines trail up the side of the buildings, and flowers bloom in a multitude of colors from the bushes dotting the space.
It’s breathtaking.
We slip off our shoes at the gate. Troy pops a code into a keypad and then swings it open.
“Can you imagine living like this?” I ask, taking in our surroundings. I glance up and catch him watching me.
“Yeah. I can.”
I’m not sure what he means—not with how he looks at me. So I tuck my chin and step onto the beach.
“Look at that sunset,” I say as the sky transforms into a glorious array of colors. “My mom loved a pretty sunset.”
“What was she like?”
“She was amazing. She was my best friend.”
I smile as I think about her. It’s almost strange to discuss her with Troy. Despite the attraction, we’ve always kept things fairly impersonal—platonic. We don’t press too deeply into each other’s lives and keep things superficial. But the question feels genuine, and surprisingly, sharing something so personal, so special to me, feels natural.
“I think about her every day. Some days are harder than others,” I say, watching the sand squish between my toes. “She was a mother in every way—loving, protective, selfless. There was not a food she couldn’t prepare, and she could turn a loaf of bread and a package of cheese into a meal fit for a king.” I laugh. “She worked her ass off, working two jobs most of the time. But she didn’t miss any of my sporting events or teacher conferences. And she didn’t complain. She was proud … maybe too proud.”
Our feet sink into the wet sand as we walk along the water’s edge. A peacefulness settles over me, soothing the raw edges of my nerves.
