Page 124 of Blindside Sinner

But I could actually, literally swoon right now. It’s the little things that mean the most sometimes.

Beck, to my everlasting surprise, gets that.

I look around the room, greedy for more little morsels of his attention. I’m not disappointed.

On the table beside the bed is a picture frame with a photo of me and Cassie and Monroe that we’d stopped a stranger to take after we left a concert a few years back. I can remember everythingabout that day, even the guy who snapped the picture for us—old, friendly, smelled like rotten eggs.

And then a cold shiver slides down my spine. Maybehe’sthe guy who’s sending the letters. Maybehe’sthe one who trashed the apartment.

Or maybe it’s the guy who came into my old place to fix the leaky kitchen faucet.

Or maybe it’s some random stranger who fixated on me when he saw me at the grocery store, or the dry cleaners, or he could’ve seen me on TV during a game.

The possibilities are endless and I don’t have an answer. I don’t have more than the fear that someone is after me.

And until I figure out who it is, I’m never going to feel safe again.

62

BECK

It’s been a couple days since the break-in and I’m driving Sloan crazy. I know it, but I can’t stop it. I can’t stand to let her out of my sight.

Even at home, knowing there are guys outside, watching the property, making sure no one gets in, cameras at the corners of the property… Even then, when I can’t see her, my guts ache and all I can think of is some horrible thing that I couldn’t protect her from.

“Yo, are you listening to me?” Dix is annoyed.

I tune back in. “My bad. What did you say?”

“I said, let’s go out tonight. We’ll have some drinks, some laughs if you can get your head out of your ass for a few hours.”

I hate to admit it, but he has a point. I need to get out. Sloan needs it, too. The only place she’s gone in the last few days is to the arena for practices and a game last night. Other than that, she’s been holed up in the house.

Like I need more convincing, Dix continues, “Tomorrow’s an off day. No skate. Just sweet, sweet freedom.”

“Sounds good. I’ll meet you at McIntire’s at seven.” McIntire’s is one of those old Irish pubs that sits on a corner a few blocks outside of downtown. It’s a favorite of Dix’s, not because he likes the beer, which is mostly terrible, but because he has a thing for the owner’s daughter.

“Excellente. I’ll call the boys.” He gives me a sly, casual side-eye. “You bringing Sloan?”

The man thinks he’s slick. I roll my eyes. “Yeah.” I’m sure as hell not leaving her at home alone. “But I’ll have her ask her friends to tag along.”

They can do their thing and we’ll do ours, but I’ll still be able to see her. Checks all the boxes.

As soon as I hang up, I go up the stairs. She’s banished me from the guest bathroom because she wanted to take a soak in the tub. She’s the first one who’s ever used it, and I’m not about to deny her much, but there will come a time when we’re both in that monster of a tub, steaming up the mirror.

For now, I stand outside and knock.

“Jesus, Beck. I’m taking a bath. Alone. Can I not have twenty minutes without you up my ass?”

At some point, we’re going to have yet another edition of the for-her-own-good-and-safety talk, but now isn’t the time. “Just seeing if you want to call your friends and have them meet you tonight for drinks.” I hesitate, then add, “I want you to go. But we don’t have to sit together or… anything else.”

I hear the water slosh. She pulls the door open a moment later. “God, yes.”

“Yes to which part?”

“Yes, I want to go out, and yes, I want to call my friends.”

I should be satisfied, but even now, the thought of her leaving the safety of my mansion makes my skin itch.

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