16. Talking

I didn't even go inside the house before calling him. Victor was definitely somewhere nearby—I could feel that eerie heaviness again. He always made sure to keep just far enough away that I couldn't hear his thoughts unless I called out to him.

Which meant now was the perfect time to test something new.

The phone rang once.

"Hello?" Victor answered like he'd been expecting it all day.

"Want to come over?" I asked casually, stepping toward the door but glancing around just in case I caught a shadow or movement. Nothing.

There was a pause. "Well, I was just around the neighborhood, so sure."

Of course you were. I still didn't see him, but the feeling didn't lie. He had to be within seven feet—maybe eight. Out of view. Behind the bushes or the dumpster near the neighbor's fence, maybe. Always hiding. Always waiting.

"Cool," I said. "I just got home."

"Be there before you know it," he promised, sounding too eager.

'So good that she called me first. Mine. Mine. Mine.'

That proved something—if I could call him, I could control him. Command him. Maybe I wasn't as trapped as I thought.

"Hey," Victor said behind me suddenly.

I turned, pretending not to jump. He was already walking up the driveway, flushed like he'd jogged the whole way. "Wow," he said breathlessly. "You look perfect."

'She's even more beautiful up close! I can't believe this is for me!'

"Let's go inside," I said, pushing the door open. I made sure to glance toward the garage where my dad's car sat. Thank God.

"Make yourself at home."

Victor did just that, slipping off his shoes like he lived here and settling beside me on the couch as if it were his place too.

"How was your day?" I asked. Just making small talk. Hearing him speak gave me time to read.

"It was better the second I saw you," he said. "And now it's even better since you invited me over."

'If she's asking me that means she cares about me too, right? I'd do anything to keep this feeling going. Whatever she needs, I'll do.'

He wasn't even trying to hide it.

I leaned back, watching him carefully. "How far would you go to make me happy?"

"All the way," he answered without hesitation. "No doubt about it."

'Whatever she wants me to do, I'll do it. If she needs me to change something about myself, I'll do it right away. If she asked me to hurt or kill someone, I'd do it. No questions asked.'

I swallowed, hard.

There was no hesitation in his voice, no uncertainty in his mind. Just devotion. Blind, suffocating devotion. And for a second—one, horrifying second—I felt guilty. Like maybe I was the villain for poking at his delusions. What if he was just broken? What if he wasn't dangerous?

'She's starting to believe in me. Soon she won't be so afraid of me anymore.'

That thought snapped me out of it. Because Victor wasn't waiting to earn me. He was just waiting for me to surrender.

"Hey, Anne!" Dad's voice called down the stairs.

I sat up straighter just as he and Yesenia came into view, both holding something. Yesenia had a basket full of colorful boxes and bubble-wrapped items, while Dad carried something large covered in a white sheet.

"We saw you brought Victor over," Dad grinned. "So we grabbed some stuff from the garage he might like."

"Hope you don't mind us interrupting," Yesenia said sweetly, "but this is good."

Victor's breath hitched the second he saw what was in the basket.

'That's a 1993 morphing Red Ranger figure! In the packaging! The Green-White double edition coin belt! The convention-only Zordon print! I couldn't even find that on the internet! Is this place... Power Rangers heaven?!'

"This has been in my storage forever," Yesenia explained, "but I figured it'd mean more to someone who actually appreciates them."

Victor looked like his brain was short-circuiting from joy. He didn't even try to speak. Just nodded and kept staring like he was going to cry.

Then Dad pulled off the sheet from the big flat object—a hand-painted cast portrait of the original Power Rangers team, signed in silver.

"I painted this back when I was working on set for Hasbro," he said. "Did a lot of filming support and design. Kept it thinking it'd impress Anne, but... she never really cared."

Victor turned to me, then back to the painting, then to my dad, like he was witnessing God descend from the clouds. "Why didn't you tell me about this? You know how much I like these things! Oh my God, this is crazy! Do you know how many people would kill to have this?!"

"I didn't think it mattered," I muttered.

"It matters!" Victor practically shouted. "It's signed! This couldn't be redone again in this lifetime!"

Was it really that big of a deal?

"Okay," I said flatly.

Victor was glowing.

And I just sat there, wondering how I was going to pull off my next move while he kept sinking deeper and deeper into this fantasy life—one where he thought we belonged to each other.

And everyone else was just helping him prove it.

Victor turned back to my dad with the kind of reverence most people reserved for celebrities. "I've just become your fan as well! If you drew this, you must've done a lot of the official stuff too!"

"Guilty," Dad said with a grin, clearly enjoying every second of this attention.

"Please give me your autograph!" Victor looked ready to jump out of his seat.

"Mine? Not hers?" Dad chuckled, pointing to Yesenia beside him.

"I already got hers. I need yours!" Victor insisted, eyes gleaming like a true fanboy. Dad lit up, looking like a middle schooler finally picked first in gym class. It was hard not to laugh.

'Her dad works for Hasbro! She grew up with this! She's connected to the world of the Rangers I've spent my life following! I knew Anne was my destiny! I knew it was really fate pulling us together! Nothing can tell me it's not!'

Victor carefully touched the edge of the painting like it was holy, his breath catching when he realized it was all real. Meanwhile, Dad and Yesenia were practically floating, thrilled that someone—anyone—finally cared this much about the stuff collecting dust in the garage.

Watching it all click in Victor's head like a completed puzzle, I had a realization of my own.

Victor wasn't just intense. He wasn't just obsessed.

He was a total nerd.

***

"Are you still alive?" I asked when we were finally alone, Victor still staring at the empty doorway in stunned awe.

"What's up with your family?" he asked, his voice still breathless. "I knew I'd like them no matter what but this... this is just blowing my expectations."

"I had no idea you'd like my dad's paintings," I said, keeping it light.

"It's amazing! Yesenia's the Red Ranger and your dad draws them. You know all about the show, don't you?"

Unfortunately, yes. Live tapings, prop storage, long boring days on set... but I kept that to myself. "A bit. Not as much as you though."

"Ugh, you're so cool," he groaned.

Cool? That was never a word people used to describe me. It made something buzz in the back of my head—something uncomfortable.

'Okay, I love two things now. This... and Anne.'

"I'll be right back," I said, standing up. I didn't want to lose control of the conversation, but something new was tugging at my attention.

A box of Yesenia's things were in the garage.

'...can't tell Anne now. Not in front of her boyfriend.'

I caught the thought as I passed the kitchen doorway.

"Dad," I said, stepping in and catching them both mid-whisper. "Is there something you guys want to tell me?"

Dad frowned. "Yes, but we can push that to another day and just enjoy the night."

"Hm." I looked at Yesenia, then at the way they weren't thinking anything useful on purpose. Another huge clue. "Yesenia's pregnant, isn't she?"

"No, not at all," Yesenia said quickly.

Nothing in her mind. Blank, like someone who knew better.

"You told her, Dad," I said. He was the only one who ever figured me out as a kid. The only one who taught me how to live with mind reading instead of resenting it. The fact she was dodging thoughts like that meant only one thing—he told her everything.

"Why else would she be avoiding thinking about it?"

'Might as well just be out with it. I know how much Anne hates beating around the bush.'

"I proposed," Dad finally said.

"When?"

"Two weeks ago."

"Forgot to ask me anything?"

He tilted his head at me. "How do you feel about having a new mom?"

"Little late for that," I shrugged, "but I really don't mind."

"You like Yesenia?"

"Yeah."

"Flower girl or bridesmaid?"

"Don't care."

"Perfect. Love you, princess."

We hugged. Just like that. That was always how it was with me and Dad—straight to the point, no frills needed. Yesenia stood off to the side, visibly moved but stunned by how fast it all happened. She was second-guessing every article she'd probably read on how to have the perfect stepmom talk.

I opened the hug wider. She didn't hesitate to join.

For a moment, I forgot about Victor in the living room. Forgot about his thoughts, his obsession, and the storm he came with.

This moment wasn't about him.

It was about my dad finding someone who knew everything and still loved him. It was about him finally having someone to share a future with, without secrets.

And in that moment, I felt something rare.

I felt happy.