Bratt I was relieved Marley had agreed to spend the night at my house. If she’d refused, I would have just patrolled her house—or wherever she’d intended to stay—all night. I could protect her better at my place, and I would feel like a creepy stalker prowling around outside her home. And since Noah was at my parents’ house until morning, there wouldn’t be any awkward questions about why his teacher was sleeping over. Marley’s brightness had left her when I’d told her about the intruder. All the color had drained from her face, and fear shone from her exhausted eyes. Just how badly had her ex treated her for her to be so terrified that he might have followed her to New Middle Bluff? Then again, I could only speculate as to how complicated my feelings would be if Olivia broke into my house and made herself comfortable. How unnerving it would be if she pointedly avoided doing anything that could get her in any real legal trouble. It was absolutely ludicrous that Marley’s stalker coul
BRATT. I poked at the wood as it started to crackle, the pleasant birch scent filling the room and making it feel more like a cold winter night rather than an evening in early fall. It made me feel comfortable and cozy, and I hoped it would do the same for Marley. I set up some plush blankets on the couch for her to snuggle up in. My sister once told me that, after experiencing shock or trauma, a lot of people often felt cold once the adrenaline was out of their system and the threat was gone. Sometimes their body temperature would even drop as all their resources were diverted to the vital organs of the body, thus leaving the extremities to the cold. I hoped the tea, the blankets, and the fire would help her feel safe. After getting all that done, I heard the water cut off in the bathroom, so I flicked on the electric kettle. By the time she was walking down the hallway in her pajamas, the tea was already steeping. Marley in pajamas was nothing short of adorable. Olivia always
What on earth was I thinking? What was I, a seven-year-old, knocking on Bratt’s door because I was having nightmares? God, I was ridiculous. But he didn’t even bat an eye. He didn’t even make me talk my foot into my stomach, just held out his strong hand and let me into his room. Now I was in his bed. His huge, insanely comfortable bed. Holy crap, was this what it was like to sleep on a cloud? I’d never been on such a comfortable bed before in my life. I lay down and immediately felt cradled by the soft memory foam and pillowy cushioning beneath me. “You a back sleeper? Side sleeper?” Bratt asked. “Side. Is that okay?” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Marley, you know that not every question posed to you is done so to evaluate you, right?” he asked before handing me a pillow. “I just wanted to make sure your pillow was supportive enough.” “Oh, thank you,” I said, accepting the pillow and placing it under my head. He took the other pillow and chucked it off the side of t
“You better eat it before his face melts. Not a pretty sight, trust me,” he said. I took a couple of packets of raw sugar and dumped the contents in my coffee as Bratt set down some cutlery next to my plate. I stirred my coffee with my fork before cutting through a wedge of the pancakes and taking a bite. “Mmm,” I moaned. They were perfectly fluffy, delicately sweet, with a slightly crispy edge. “How do you do that? How do you get them nice and crispy around the edges?” “Butter,” he said. “The low smoke point helps the sugars caramelize. Some people don’t like it, but I prefer it that way.” “I love it,” I said, shoveling another bite into my mouth. I didn’t realize how hungry I actually was until the food started hitting my stomach. Wyatt had always made derogatory jabs when I ate too fast or too much. Little Piggy was a favorite of his. But Bratt didn’t seem to mind as I chowed down. He only leaned against the kitchen island and sipped from a travel mug. When I was nearly don
By the time the school day ended, I felt like a train had hit me. The day had been so long and chock-full of planning and talking. If I wasn’t telling Lana every single anti-climactic detail of my night with Bratt, then I was telling Paulette about the break-in. If I wasn’t doing that, then I was making arrangements with Bratt for the new equipment for the house—including him asking about colors for fixtures he supposedly already had. I didn’t like the idea of him spending money on me, but I tried my best to think of the numerous times he’d promised that he liked taking care of people. Still, Lana’s words—about him never working for free—made me nervous. I hoped I wasn’t writing a check I couldn’t cash. The kids were especially rowdy all day, too. It was a common thing after the first day of school. They’d gotten their nerves out of the way the previous day and were now fearless and confident that they had already learned everything. I’d always taken exception to the idea that teena
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whined. “Paulette, how could you let me forget?” “Me? You’re the one who is always reminding me of what needs to be done! I could have sworn you knew,” Paulette said. “I’ve been a little distracted,” I said as I frantically labeled multi-colored folders with the names of my students’ parents. “By a hot shifter daddy who wants your gams?” Paulette asked. “By a scary shifter stalker breaking into my house,” I snapped back. “Right,” Paulette said. “Makes sense. Here, tear the list in half, and I’ll do the other ones.” It was lunchtime at POSHA, and the kids were all sitting out on the picnic benches with either their lunch boxes or the trays of lunch the school provided. We had approximately twenty minutes to get all of these folders labeled, stuff them with hastily written teacher bios, come up with an icebreaker game, and figure out what refreshments to offer our parents. It was parents’ night, which usually happened three or four weeks into the school yea
BrattMarley had insisted on going through with parents’ night. Regardless of how much I could see her fear on her face, regardless of how we could all smell it seeping from her pores, she refused to cancel.“Marley,” I’d said, trying to appeal to her sense of reason. “This is a very clear and horrible threat. You need to take it seriously.”She’d only shaken her head. “No, it’s impossible. You beefed up the security. You said yourself that people can only get in with a special code, and I haven’t given that code to anyone, not even Lana. They probably just took the photo the first time they broke in and saved it to try and scare me.”“Do you really want to take that chance?” Paulette had asked, and for the first time, I was grateful for her. I nodded my agreement. “Why don’t you just stay with me or Lana tonight?”“I think that would be a good idea,” I’d said.“Bratt, you were the one who told me that if I cave into these sorts of threats, it’ll only get worse,” she said. “I can’t le
Bratt could go fuck himself.Okay, maybe that was a little strong. But who the hell did he think he was? We’d just had a heart-to-heart about boundaries the night before, and now he was commanding me to let his buddy take me to his house. Trying to force me into taking advantage of someone else’s hospitality? He had no right. I could take care of myself.As we watched Bratt streak into the darkness of the night, I looked over to Paulette. “Don’t call the cops,” I said.“But, the wolf toy,” Paulette said. “What if it’s something serious, Mar?”“The cops aren’t going to do anything, Paulette. Trust me. I have firsthand experience with this. And the last thing I want to hear right now is how this is just a stupid prank, or field questions about my past or my family, or anything like that.”“But—”“Paulette, I am asking you, as my friend, not to call the cops. I’m asking you to respect me enough to listen to what I want.”Paulette frowned at me and set her phone down. “Marley, if somethin