Page 49 of The Sweetest Obsession

But he didn’t look like a vacationer at all. Not dressed up like that. Not with the insanity swirling in his eyes.

And his words...

You’re next, you’re next.

You’ll die.

That feels more like a threat.

Still shaking, I retreat from the window, never taking my eyes off the empty front walk and driveway. There’s nothing out there but the green waste bin as I fumble with my phone.

The dispatcher picks up immediately, thank gawd—and it’s so weird to recognize Mallory Cross’ voice on the other end, this sweet lady who’s worked there for years.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Mal?” I choke out, my throat hurting from the adrenaline rush. “It’s... it’s Ophelia Sanderson. Listen, someone just attacked me at my mom’s place and... and they made death threats against me. I’ve never seen him before, I just—”

“Oh, honey—honey, calm down, and let’s take it slow. Start at the beginning.”

So I do, trying to jam every little detail I can into a two-minute panic call.

“Got it,” Mallory says, clucking her tongue. “Sit tight and make sure all the doors are locked. I’m sending a patrol car right over.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, hanging up the phone.

Then I wrap my arms around myself tight and curl up on the sofa to wait.

You know it’s bad when I’m hoping for him.

I actually want them to send Grant Faircross.

How can I settle for anyone else than the only man who’s ever made me feel safe?

7

ONE STEP FORWARD (GRANT)

You want to see the shittiest parking job in the world?

Tell a man the girl he’s been fixated on since high school was just assaulted in her own fucking home, then watch him nearly plow his car across her front lawn trying to get to her.

I bolt out of the car and take the front steps of her house two at a time.

Butterfly, fuck.

Just hold on.

I barely refrain from punching a hole through her door.

Mallory said there was some weirdo doing just that, so I restrain myself and knock, raising my voice to call out.

“Ophelia? It’s Grant. Open up! There’s no one out here.”

There’s a long moment, a faint sound of footsteps shuffling from inside. Then the door cracks open.

She gives me a mutinous look, her green eyes crackling.

“Are you saying I imagined it? You—”

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