I’m in the kitchen, getting a drink of water after changing out of my work clothes into sweats and that’s when I see him leaving.
He’s changed out of the suit into nice dark jeans and a button-down shirt with a blazer. He looks like he’s going out somewhere nice and he’s heading for the door like he’s in a big hurry.
His eyes bounce in my direction just briefly as he heads to the door. “Later.”
“Bye,” I whisper.
He presses buttons on the alarm panel, and he’s gone. He’s still pissed off at me. And I’m feeling a little lost.
Three hours later, I’m in my room watching television, feeling like I’m in a real funk, when I get a text.
Killian: I won’t be back tonight. Take your car to work in the morning. Patricia is stopping by to pack a bag for me and get it dropped off. She’ll say hello before she goes.
Pack a bag? How long will he be gone? He hasn’t said, so I don’t ask.
Instead, I reply with a thumbs up.
Less than an hour later, there’s a knock on the bedroom door.
I jump up and open it to an attractive thirtyish woman with hazel eyes and a blonde pixie cut. She stands there with what seems like a fake smile fixed on her face. She’s well-dressed, polished. She isn’t dressed like a housekeeper type to me, more like someone who works in an office.
She takes me in with a look of surprise.
I’m in sweats, my feet are bare, and I’ve put my hair up in a messy knot. I’ve washed all my makeup off and I’m sure I don’t make the best first impression, given that I’ve been lying in bed for hours.
“Hi.”
“I’m Patricia. I just wanted to say hello. I had to drop by for Killian.”
“Yes, he said you’d be by. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I expected more work, but you’re a tidy houseguest. I wanted to do your laundry, but I wasn’t sure if that would upset you, so I didn’t touch it.”
I chuckle. “Yeah. I can’t imagine someone cleaning up after me. It’s okay, I can do my own laundry. Handle keeping things clean in here. Don’t worry about me.”
She smiles. “That’s what I come for. Please don’t hesitate to make yourself comfortable. I shopped this morning, but found nothing with any indication of your dietary preferences beyond the things Killian asked me to stock, so…”
“I’m not too fussy,” I say. “I’ll be fine with whatever is here.”
“Oh. Well, if you change your mind, feel free to leave a note on the corkboard in the laundry room. I left my number there in case you need anything before then or if you have something specific in mind or any questions for me. Feel free to send me a text message. Have a good evening.”
“Thanks very much,” I say. “You, too.”
She gives me a curious look before she nods and goes.
She’s probably just wondering who I am and what I’m doing here. I have no idea how long Killian has lived here, but the fact that he furnished a room for me probably gave her pause if she’s a longtime employee.
I go to the kitchen and survey the contents of the fridge. It’s stocked with all sorts of healthy food choices as well as a whole whack of snack options, too. And I see the makings of what I know is most likely the salad I talked about. I see bocconcini balls, chicken breasts, all sorts of salad ingredients. A large, ripe avocado. I almost want to make it and leave some for him in the fridge, but he’s not going to be here and he’s angry with me, so I close the fridge and, having no appetite, wander back to my room and decide to take a long, hot shower.
32
Killian
I’m sitting in the den in my lake house. I’m in front of a roaring fire because it’s cold as fuck outside and I bought this drafty old house with a broken furnace with plans to remodel. I haven’t gotten to it yet.
I’m sitting by myself on a Monday night in this dump staring at my phone with a drink in my hand, watching Violet in my apartment.
Because…why?
I can’t get her out of my head, that’s why. And she’s in my place right now, eating a bowl of cereal at my table looking lonely. And if I’m there with her, I’ll do something. I’ll try to kiss all those broken pieces of her back together. I’ll carry her to my bed and fuck her before she’s ready. I’ll kill Raymond. Something…
That’s why I’m here. A bit of distance.
For a split second, I wondered if I was being played by her, because I generally feel that way about women - but it was only for that split second, because my gut told me she is who I think she is.
Though, because I’m feeling shit I’ve never felt before, I also spent the day planting bugs in my own goddamn condo. Telling myself it’s smart to watch and see if she’s up to anything, though in my gut I know she isn’t. More than anything, I just wanna look at her, watch her. Know she’s safe. And watch her. I’ve only just started to watch her today, but know I could do it all day.
I put a camera in the kitchen, two angles of the living area, my bedroom, and in her bedroom.
Not her bathroom, I’m not a fucking sicko, nor her closet, but unfortunately, she didn’t change into her sweats after work in her bathroom or the walk-in closet today. She changed at the end of her bed, in front of the camera.
I walked into my own room to change after bringing her home from her job and immediately logged into the app on my phone and watched her strip down to her lacy dark blue bra and matching thong and get into her track pants and hoodie.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away as she pulled those clothes off and slid into the other ones. Couldn’t swallow as she stretched before she got the hoodie on to work out some kinks in her back. Then she took her hair up into a fist and hunted through her bag for an elastic.
While she tied her hair up into a knot, I imagined it in my fist.
But then she sat, and she moped.
And then I saw her in the kitchen and barely said goodbye before I immediately opened the app as I got into the elevator.
I watched her mope while I was in the elevator going to my car, I watched her on my phone screen at every goddamn red light I sat at and then I got here and watched her some more.
She stared out the window, at the bedspread, and at the ceiling, blowing out long breaths, sighing, picking at her nail polish, and then she cleaned all the polish off her fingernails and repainted them before she dozed off.
I watched her sleep. I found myself cussing because she’s even appealing when she sleeps with her mouth open.
And then I watched her react to my text. And that made my gut churn as I saw how fucking upset I made her. I can practically feel her wheels turning.
I watched her wander through the kitchen. I half expected her to snoop, but she didn’t. She didn’t go near my bedroom, she hasn’t looked in any drawers or closets beyond the kitchen, though she could’ve done that before I put the bugs in but somehow I don’t think she has.
I think Violet is who I think she is.
A good girl, a sweet, caring, and beautiful girl who trusted the wrong guy and then got dragged into the gutter with him.
And speaking of Ass-wipe, that shit stain; Wes tells me he spent an hour in the apartment of the old lady on the ground floor of the building today. Wes caught through the window the view of him changing out a lightbulb for her before going upstairs to Violet’s place carrying a bottle of whisky he must’ve gotten from the old woman before crashing for the night after drinking most of the bottle with a sour look on his face as he watched television.