Page 15 of To Love a Monster
“So the place I’m staying at is Jake’s,” he asks.“You knew him, right?”
The question throws me.“I’m sorry.Have we met?”
He shrugs, easy.“Nah.Jake’s my cousin.Distant, but I stayed here once, like, years ago.Before I came down, he gave me the rundown on who the locals are.I saw your car outside the house so figured you had to be the high school sweetheart he mentioned.”
I nod slowly.“Huh, he never mentioned a cousin Carl.”
Carl chuckles.“Probably didn’t leave much of an impression.”He says it with a grin.“Well,” he says, shifting the mug in his hand, “I’m still figuring out what’s what out here.Thought I’d grab coffee and take a walk along the lake, but if you’ve got time, maybe you could help me out.”
My brow lifts.“Help how?”
“You’re the closest thing to a local guide around here.”He gestures toward the porch.“Seems like this place is completely deserted.Would you like to come in for some coffee?You can tell me where not to get murdered by tourists or eaten by raccoons.”
I laugh, despite myself.He’s charming in a way that doesn’t feel practiced.A little awkward.A little too nice.But nice is refreshing.And maybe it’ll be good for me to be around someone who doesn’t behave like they already own me.When I don’t answer right away, he grins and adds, “Promise I’m safe.Haven’t even unpacked the knives yet.”
“Sure,” I say, stepping forward and brushing my hair behind my ear.“Why not.”
Just then, my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket.
Don’t you walk into that house, little lamb.I’m not very good at sharing.Especially not when it comes to you.
My heart stutters, caught somewhere between a warning and a thrill.The message is possessive.Brutal and feral.And it slams into me like a hand at my throat.Little lamb.That’s his nickname for me, huh?Looks like he hasn’t disappeared after all.He’s still watching.Still wanting.Still mine, in the most fucked-up way imaginable.
And maybe ...maybe that’s exactly what I came here to find out.A twisted part of me feels relieved because he’s still there.Still circling.And that thrill?It blooms like a bruise, making me ache for more.
So I do something reckless.Something stupid and possibly dangerous.I type back two words.
Prove it.
My thumb hits SEND and the thread vanishes.Gone.Like it never existed and I shove the phone back into my pocket.
“Everything okay?”Carl asks.
“Yeah,” I lie again.“Nothing to worry about.”
He nods.“Then come on in.I’ve got sugar and lies about how good the coffee is.”
The house smells like cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee.Banana bread cools on the counter, edges burnt, the middle a little sunken like it’s cooked unevenly.The kind of baking that saysI tried.Carl pours coffee into mismatched mugs and cuts the banana bread, offering me the better slice.
“I was just trying to figure out where everything is,” he says, sliding the plate across the counter.“This place is kind of a maze.Charming, but ...Jake didn’t exactly label things.”
I pause, the mug warm in my hands.“You said earlier you only stayed here once?”
He nods, casual.Too casual.“Yeah, when we were teenagers.I don’t remember it being this big, though.”
I hum as I take a sip of the coffee and something tugs at me.I’m not sure what, though.
“So,” he continues, “what’s good around here?You mentioned you’re painting.You just doing the retreat thing to get the creative juices flowing, or are you working on a specific project?”
“Little of both,” I say.“But I’m mostly just trying to clear my head.It’s peaceful here.”
He nods.“Is there still that bar with the neon cowboy out front?”
I smile.“Yep.Haven’t been in forever, though.”
“I should check it out.”Carl lifts his mug, breathes the coffee in.“Do you come out here often?”
The question is gentle, like he’s just trying to make casual conversation.
