Play It Again (19 page)

It’s a fair statement, but I don’t know what
to say. I’m trying to stay positive. I want to believe the
quietness of the last week means it’s over.

My stalker is gone.

The vandalism is over.

But I think, somewhere deep down, I know it’s
not. I just don’t want to give voice to the worry. I don’t want to
make it real.

Instead of babbling on and making the tension
worse, I turn back to the window, watching the houses fly past as
we drive toward my place.

Vance doesn’t say anything when we arrive,
only pulls his truck over to the curb, not even bothering to pull
into the driveway. He doesn’t even look at me, just stares out the
windshield, his entire body tense behind the wheel.

It burns.

I turn in my seat, getting ready to ask him
if he’s okay, if everything’s okay between us, when his eyes
finally meet mine. The look he gives me makes my question freeze in
my throat, the dark shadows in his eyes making me suck in a sharp
breath.

“If I ask you to stay in the truck, will you
listen to me this time?” he asks, his voice deathly calm.

My stomach coils and sinks. “I, uh, I …
what’s wrong?”

He sighs. “That’s what I thought,” he says,
and hesitates for a long moment. “Look at the driveway,
freckles.”

The tone of his voice freaks me out, scares
me so much that I want to refuse.

I don’t want to.

I can’t help it.

I have to look.

I look.

My heart races faster than before, so
frenzied it hurts my chest as I slowly turn toward my house,
catching sight of my driveway.

I blink.

I blink again.

And then I gasp.

The driveway just beyond the sidewalk is now
marred with foul orange spray paint with even fouler words written
across the surface. A poster board sign on a spike, jabbed into the
lawn has the word
whore
scrawled across it, another with the
word
slut
, and another with the words
you were
warned
.

My hand is shaking as I lift it to my mouth,
my entire body rattling against the seat, as I fight back the tears
that threaten to fall.

This can’t be happening.

This can’t be real.

My vision blurs with tears and I squeeze my
eyes shut. I will not cry. I will not let this get to me. It’s not
the first time my property has been ruined. It doesn’t matter what
the words say.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

But it does matter. It matters a lot.

Vance puts an arm around my shoulder, tugging
me to his chest. I resist at first. I know the comfort will be my
undoing. But he’s not having it. His hand comes up to cup the back
of my head, tucking my head up under his chin, and my resistance
breaks.

I suck in a breath.

And another.

And then I cry.

It’s not pretty.

There are no cute little sniffles or
hiccups.

It’s messy and ugly. I’m gasping for breath,
sucking in mouthfuls, but getting so little air my lungs scream and
burn.

I let it all out. I don’t really have a
choice in the matter. My body has taken over, determined to purge
all the grief and fear and pain I’ve been bottling up since this
whole mess began.

It’s not until my shaking stops and my tears
dry up that Vance loosens his hold on me and says, “We need to call
the cops.”

Piper

“Can you explain to me how none of these
cameras caught the person who did this?” I ask, waving around one
of the crudely painted signs as Vance opens the garage door.

He cuts his eyes to me, regarding me
peculiarly, before he lets out a long sigh, ending it with the
word, “Piper.”

That’s it.

That’s all he says.

He strolls over to me, reaching around me,
his hand coming to rest on my hip, as the other reaches for the
sign, gently taking it from my hand and tossing it into the garage
behind him. He says nothing, but his thoughts are there, written in
his dark eyes and in the frown marring his face.

He’s just as angry as I am.

He’s also getting frustrated that I keep
asking the same question.

But I can’t help it.

I’m shaky and edgy, the tears and anger
making me feel an odd mix of hyped-up and exhausted. The police
have come and gone, snapping pictures of the damage and taking down
an incident report. They went through the empty video file for
tonight, discussed with Vance where the cameras are located, and
how far on the property someone has to be to trigger them.

I listened to everything, walked through the
paces with them, testing the cameras and determining where the
person must have stood based on the direction of the paint spray
and lack of video feed, but the problem is that no matter how many
times I hear the explanation, I still don’t understand and it’s
making me crazy.

“It’s just that I don’t understand,” I say
quietly, suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to backtrack and
explain myself. “How did the person know about them? How did they
know if they stood on the sidewalk the cameras wouldn’t catch
them?”

He squeezes my hip, his frown softening
slightly. “Piper ...” he sighs. “Look, I can’t tell you anything
more than I already have. The cameras are set to record your
property. They’re on motion sensors, just like you wanted. If the
sensors aren’t tripped, they won’t record. If a person doesn’t come
on the property—”

“But they painted my property,” I interrupt,
anxiously glancing down the driveway, catching sight of the paint
once again. “The cameras should have picked that up.”

My words make him hesitate. He pauses, and
stares down at me with a peculiar mix of adoration and irritation,
but he doesn’t speak.

I’m not sure what to do, or say. I know I’m
being a pain in the ass, but I can’t rein it in, so I just stare
back at him, working hard at keeping the swirl of emotions off my
face.

After a moment, Vance sighs. “They painted
from the sidewalk. You saw that, how the words run between the
sidewalk and your driveway. Spray paint ain’t enough to trigger a
sensor, honey.”

“Why did you install motion activated
cameras?”

The hostility in my voice makes me cringe and
my stomach sinks. Ugh, I sound bitchy and accusatory, not curious
as it was meant to be.

I just want to understand.

I want to know if I need something
more—something better.

Vance groans in frustration, and lets go of
my hip, taking a step back. He says nothing, just stares at me for
a moment, before he turns away, shaking his head as he wanders back
down the driveway and yanks out another sign.

I stand still, just staring at him as he
grabs the rest of the signs, and then stalks back up the driveway,
tossing them in the garage, before walking away from me once more,
heading over to his truck still parked at the curb. My stomach
coils as he jumps in and starts it up, the sudden fear that he’s
going to just drive away, without even saying goodbye, surges
through me.

I don’t want him to go.

I don’t want to be alone.

But it’s more than that, too. I want him to
stay because I like having him here; I like how I feel when he’s in
my space. I want him to stay because he’s Vance and I’ve wanted him
for so long I barely remember a time before him.

My heart stalls as the truck pulls away from
the curb, and then kicks up, pounding in my chest when he pulls
into the driveway, parking right in front of the garage where I’m
standing. He doesn’t turn off the truck right away, and he doesn’t
get out. Hesitating with his hand on the steering wheel, his gaze
sweeps over me. I can’t make out his expression, the headlights
causing a glare, but I can feel his eyes on me, the intensity of
them searing my skin.

My body flushes with embarrassment from the
way I’ve been acting, and I know my nervousness is written all over
my face, as I round the truck, heading for the driver’s side.

Vance cuts the engine as I start to move,
opens the door, and folds out of the vehicle. He meets me at the
front fender, pausing right in front of me, so close that I nearly
take a step back, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to
hold my ground under his irate stare.

I open my mouth, ready to spew out a jumbled
apology, but he speaks before I can get a single word out. “Have I
given you any reason not to trust me, Piper?” he asks. “Any reason
at all to think I’m not doing everything I can to figure this shit
out for you?”

“No,” I say quietly, forcing myself not to
recoil from the bite in his tone. “No, you haven’t.”

“Then trust me,” he says. “Trust that I put
in the best security system. Know that the cameras I used are
exactly what you need. Believe that I’ll find the person doing
this. If you want me to do a new install, rip everything out and
upgrade it, I will. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to trust me
here, to believe that I’ll fix this shit for you.”

“No, I don’t want you to do that,” I say. “I
just … I’m sorry. I’m stressed and I’m taking it out on you, and
that’s not cool. None of this is your fault.”

He leans into me then and kisses my forehead,
wrapping his arms tightly around me, hugging me close. I don’t know
how long we stand there, before he finally pulls away, grinning
down at me. “You should probably head in,” he says. “Try to get
some sleep, put this shit behind you, yeah?”

“Will you stay with me?” I ask right away, my
voice soft, barely audible even to my own ears, but he hears me. I
can see it in his eyes, the flare of heat, the subtle flicker of
uncertainty. The odd mix has my skin heating and my nerves
jumping.

“Is that okay?” I ask when he doesn’t
respond. “Can you stay with me tonight and, uh, maybe hold me?”

He nods. “Yeah, freckles, I can do that.”

Vance lets go of me then, moving over to the
garage, closing and locking it up, and then comes back to me,
taking my hand.

He pulls me into the house, locking the door
and setting the alarm as he tugs me down the hallway to my room.
For a fleeting second, my nerves resurface as he closes the bedroom
door behind us, but they don’t last. Exhaustion is winning the
battle on my emotions, and all I want is to curl up under the
blankets and put this day behind me.

Grabbing a sleep shirt and new panties from
my dresser, I dip into the bathroom as Vance slips back out of the
room, mumbling something about brushing his teeth. I get changed,
and do my bedtime routine, brushing my teeth and washing my face,
before venturing back in the bedroom to find Vance stripped down to
his boxers, fiddling with the monitor on my dresser.

I stare at him momentarily frozen as I get my
first look at him without clothes. My body flushes as I take in all
that tanned skin and hard muscle.

Jesus, he’s gorgeous.

“Get in bed, Piper,” he says, drawing my
attention from the solid length of his backside. “I’ll be there in
a minute.”

“What are you doing?” I ask curiously,
watching as he taps the screen, bringing up what looks like the
control panel.

“Adjusting the volume,” he says. “Don’t want
it waking you up when Jimmy stumbles in.”

Huh.
I didn’t even know that was an
option.

“But what if something happens?” I ask,
crossing over to my bed and climbing in. “What if the person comes
back tonight?”

“I’m a light sleeper,” he says. “I’ll hear
it.”

He turns to me as he finishes, smiling as he
flicks off the light and strolls over to the bed. The mattress
shifts as he climbs in beside me. His hand seeks me out, wrapping
around my waist and pulling me to him, his chest pressing close
against my back. The motion eases the remaining strands of anxiety
from before, and I sigh, settling into him.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

I probably shouldn’t be. I think it would be
reasonable enough to still be freaking out, to be twisted up, upset
and unnerved.

But I’m not.

I feel comfortable and warm and safe.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m okay.”

He nuzzles my neck, kissing the skin there
lightly as he pulls me closer, deeper into his arms, settling in
behind me. It doesn’t take long for sleep to catch me, dragging me
down into a dark nothingness.

I sleep deeply and soundly right through the
night. When I come around much later, I’m greeted with sunlight and
silence, instantly aware of how empty the bed feels beside me.

Vance is gone.

Rubbing my eyes, I sit up in bed. His clothes
are gone from the bedroom floor; his wallet and phone are no longer
sitting on the dresser.

A glance at the clock tells me that it’s
eleven-thirty in the morning, so I’m not surprised he’s gone, but
undeniably it stings to realize I’m alone.

Slipping out of bed, I hit the bathroom and
pull on a pair of shorts, before venturing out of my room and down
the hall, listening for any sounds of life within the house, hoping
he’s still here somewhere.

Everything is quiet and still, but I smell
coffee brewing, so I pad over to the kitchen. When I get there,
Vance isn’t around, but Jimmy is here, hunched over the counter,
watching the coffee brew.

“Morning,” I say, strolling past him and
grabbing a mug from the cupboard. “Have you been up long?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice quiet and serious.
“Since five-thirty.”

I laugh, thinking he has to be joking,
because Jimmy is not a morning person, but when he turns around to
look at me and I see his face, the first thing I notice are his
bloodshot eyes and the black circles underneath. “Long night?”

“And morning,” he mutters, leaning back
against the countertop. He’s still wearing the same clothes from
yesterday, I notice, as his eyes regard me peculiarly, a smirk
turning up his lips. “Wasn’t expecting to see a guy coming out of
your room this morning. Nearly beat Vance with your lamp when he
walked by the couch. Lucky for him, I was still drunk as shit and I
fell back down the second I stood up.”