Page 18 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

Or am I losing it? Am I completely paranoid?

Even still, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. Gulping, I take another quick glance at my son, fast asleep and stand up, peering out into the darkness, half expecting to see eyes staring back at me from out the window.

But there is nothing. Just the wind, whispering secrets through the leaves, and the quiet suburban street that’s become our home—a far cry from the war zones of my past.

Even still…those branches. They’re supposed to be intact. No squirrel or raccoon could have broken them like that. Nope. That sort of damage is only caused by something or someone over forty pounds.

To be safe, I pull out my phone and snap some pictures of the broken branches. It will be good to have it on record just in case.

“Get a grip,” I whisper to myself, checking the locks on the window one more time before I finally let myself relax back into the chair beside his bed.

There is no threat, not here. Not on my watch.

I glance back at Duke, his chest rising and falling softly with sleep, and know that no matter what, I’ll keep it that way.

Chapter 7

Thatcher

The mid-morning sun barely paints the sky with its early brushstrokes when I find myself outside, Hunter and Griffin at my sides.

As soon as I put Duke on the bus to school, I called Hunter and Griffin and told them to get their asses over here. Now, we stand staring up at the aged oak tree outside Duke’s window, its branches stretched like skeletal fingers towards the second story of our home.

“Look at this,” I say, pointing to a cluster of snapped twigs on a sturdy limb. “Tell me that’s natural.”

Griffin squints up at the tree, then back at me, his tousled hair catching glints of the bright morning light. “Could be anything, Thatch. Kids playing around, maybe? I used to climb trees all the time when I was Duke’s age.”

“You used to climb trees in other people’s yards? Outside of their bedroom windows?” I question him with a raised brow.

He shrugs, unfazed by my interrogation. “Sometimes. My neighbors had better trees than us. Not to mentionolder sisters.” He bounces his brows at me and I roll my eyes in disgust.

Hunter, silent as ever, surveys the tree with a frown creasing his brow. He isn’t one for needless chatter, but his presence is still reassuring—like having a loyal guard dog by your side. “Could be an animal,” he chimes in quietly, crossing his arms.

“Yes!” Griffin snaps his fingers. “A cat...or a raccoon.”

I shake my head. “You know as well as I do that cats don’t weigh enough to snap branches that thick.”

“Could be a fat cat?” Griffin adds. “Or a bobcat?”

“Sure,” I shoot back, my tone laced with skepticism. “Bobcats are known to frequent our quiet downtown neighborhood.”

“Hey.” Griffin holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just saying it’s possible. You’ve got to consider all angles before going full-on combat mode.”

“Griff’s right,” Hunter says.

“He is?”

“Not about the bobcat, that’s ridiculous,” Hunter explains. “But we have to consider every possibility before we jump to a conclusion that someone is spying on your son.”

“Fine,” I reluctantly admit, though my gut tells me otherwise. “Is there a reasonable animal that might climb these trees and be big enough to break the branches? Duke’s safety is on the line and unless you two have a reasonable alternative, I’m not waiting for things to escalate.”

“Let’s not jump to worst-case scenarios, man,” Griffin presses, his eyes softening. “We can keep an eye out, set up a camera maybe?”

“Cameras,” I mutter, already running through the logisticsin my head. “Right. That’ll protect my son from Drakon.”

“Thatch,” Griffin’s voice takes on that soothing timbre he uses when trying to talk down a spooked witness. “You’re on edge, and I get it. But let’s not go hacking down trees or setting up booby traps yet, okay? Especially since it might be some kid in the neighborhood?—”

“Nobody’s hacking down trees,” I reply, though the idea doesn’t sound half bad. “Yet,” I add while considering the possibility. A clear line of sight would certainly ease my mind. But I hold back the instinct. For now.

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