Page 18 of Reclaimed

“Goodnight, Powell.”

“Goodnight, Isla.”

The first step away from him sends adrenaline dumping into my system. The muscles in my legs protest the leisurely pace. Signals race to my brain urging me to run to my front door, but I force myself to stay calm.

A concrete sidewalk leads to a wooden staircase at the front of the four-plex. Nosy Julia and myself are on the front facing the street while the other two face the alley in the back. I hop up the three stairs and fit my brass key into the deadbolt, all while feeling Aiden’s eyes on my back.

The crank of pins unlocking feels heavy and the interior door swings free with an ominous creak.

Hyperawareness replaces all other thoughts as I stare into the pitch-black darkness. I throw out my hand blindly and swipe up, hitting all the switches at once. The audible clicks shatter the quiet. The front of my house is illuminated in a golden glow, chasing the shadows back into the recesses.

With one lingering look at Aiden’s car, I kick the door shut and lock it.

I sag against the solid wood at my back.

From my spot in the entryway, I don’t need to move to look into the living room. My red couch with the gray throw blanket beckons me inside. On any given night when I come home from the club, I curl up in the deep cushions and binge watch reality tv until I can shut my brain off. But tonight, I’m having trouble uprooting from this spot.

It isn’t just me I need to look out for. The logical part of my brain says that I’m not actually in any danger, but the irrational side is running through every scene of every horror movie I’ve ever consumed in my thirty years.

I have to be smart. If there’s truly a serial killer targeting strippers, then my unborn baby deserves a mother who’s willing to put aside comfort for every possible precaution.

My spine tingles as I step away from the door and peer out of the curtain covering the window beside the door. Aiden remains parked across the street, his headlights illuminating the long stretch of darkened road.

Just go inside and go to bed,I tell myself unhelpfully.

I move a few steps out of the entryway and pause with my toes brushing the beige, high-pile carpet.

A creaking sound from inside the house halts my slow advance.

I stare at the wall on the far side of the living room as if I’ll suddenly develop x-ray vision and be able to see beyond the nails and wood and plaster.

God, this is stupid.

My fingers flutter toward the curtain at my left, and again, I brush it aside to peek outside.

Aiden hasn’t left. Why isn’t he leaving? Surely if he saw something, he’d be knocking at my door. Or he’d text me or…

He doesn’t have my number.

Which means I don’t have his.

I don’tneedhis number. I’m a strong and capable woman, and if I want to make a real run at this single mom business and not fuck up my kid, I need to dig deep and find some independence too. I’ve never had issues living alone; in fact, I’ve been alone since I left high school over a decade ago. I’ve made it this long without relying on anyone but myself—

A thud sounds from down the hall.

The doorknob is tight in my fist before I even consciously decide to grab it, and I’m running barefoot out into the night.

I nearly trip down the three rickety steps as I find Aiden standing outside of his car with his arms crossed over his chest. I don’t give myself proper time to ogle the way his biceps bunch nicely beneath the sleeve of his short-sleeved tee, or the way his ballcap sits backward on his head before I start moving again and hustle down the sidewalk.

“Missed me already?” he says with a cocky lilt, but the crease between his brows gives away his concern.

“Will you stay? Just for tonight. I think I’m a little spooked and I just don’t want to be alone,” I say in a breathless rush. “Please,” I tack on the end.

Pushing off the car, he rises to his full six-foot height, and drops his arms to his sides. “You never have to say please.” His headlights flash as he hits the lock on the fob. “Let’s go.”

“You’ll stay?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”

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