Page 98 of We Can Stay
“That sounds perfect.” I rise on my toes to kiss him, not caring that we’re standing in the police station parking lot. His lips are warm and sure against mine, a promise of all the normal nights we’ll have once this is over.
Sebastian drops me back off at home and I throw myself into work—the one thing that still makes sense. The rhythmic motion of winding skeins soothes my scattered nerves. I post afew finished colorways on my website, careful not to include any personal details or location markers.
By the time my hands start their familiar ache, shadows stretch long across my studio. I clean up slowly, movements deliberate to avoid aggravating the inflammation. The sun sets earlier now that winter’s approaching, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold that would make beautiful yarn colors.
If I can ever look at yarn the same way again.
In the kitchen, I pull out ingredients for chili—Sebastian’s favorite. The simple act of chopping onions and browning beef grounds me. This is normal. This is safe. The cornbread batter comes together easily, and soon the house smells like comfort and home.
I’m sliding the cornbread into the oven when a soft knock freezes me mid-motion.
Sebastian always texts. Always. My phone sits silent on the counter.
The security camera should have alerted me to movement, but there’s been no notification. My mouth goes dry as I ease the oven closed, trying not to make a sound.
Another knock, barely louder than the first.
I creep toward the front door, avoiding the windows. Through the peephole, I see dark hair, a bowed head. My heart hammers against my ribs.
“Who is it?” My voice cracks despite my effort to sound calm.
“It’s Jenna.” The response is light, casual. Too casual. “I just want to talk.”
The room tilts. I press my back against the wall, phone already in my hand. My fingers shake as I type:
Jenna is here at my house. Call the police.
“Jenna... what are you doing here?” I manage, buying time.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Her tone shifts, hurt creeping in. “And today I got a call from the police asking about stalking you. That’s not very nice after everything I’ve done for you.”
Done for me? Bile rises in my throat. This woman has turned my life into a nightmare, and she thinks she’s done me favors? She’s delusional.
“I’m not feeling well.” The lie comes out thin, unconvincing. “Maybe we can talk another day.”
The doorknob rattles. I jump back, my hip hitting the side table. A picture frame wobbles but doesn’t fall.
“I really think we should talk now.” All pretense of friendliness disappears from her voice. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”
It’llbe quick?Whatwill?
My legs shake, but I force myself to stay upright. “I think you should leave, Jenna. The police are on their way.”
“You called them?!” The shriek makes me flinch. “After everything I’ve done for you? I’ve been your biggest fan! I made you who you are! You owe me, Flick!”
The door shudders under her assault. The lock holds, but for how long?
My phone buzzes. Sebastian’s name fills the screen like a lifeline.
“Sebastian.” His name comes out as barely a breath. “She’s still here. She’s trying to get in.”
“I’m almost there. Stay on the phone with me.” His voice is steady despite the roar of his engine in the background. “The police are coming too. Just stay locked in and don’t engage her.”
“She sounds completely unhinged, Sebastian. I don’t know if she has a weapon, if she’s dangerous.”
“I’ll be careful. Just stay inside.”
The rattling stops. Silence stretches, more terrifying than the noise. I peer through the peephole again, watching her backretreat down the walkway. She pauses at the street, looking back once before disappearing into the gathering dusk.
