I slide a finger over the first glossy shot and pick them up one by one, examining the images. There's me walking into our large house after a morning run. Another getting out of my car at the grocery store. At the salon getting my hair done. Waitressing at the restaurant during the holiday season when staff were forced to wear ugly green shirts with poinsettias embroidered into them. Mario's mom picked them out. No one ever said no to Mama Fanelli. Does she know who her husband was? Who her son is?"Why am I in here?" I ask while I collect the pictures with me in them. Has he been following me? How? We met this month and I'm the one who moved to Pelican Bay. How could Ridge have pictures from December? Why would he?My brain flounders to create an explanation. It's working overtime, but I'm still processing my meeting with Benny. I can't add this new information in without a meltdown."You've been on police radar for a long time, Tabitha. They've never been sure how much you kne

"That's what you took from what I said? The threesome, not the boyfriend part?""Well..." my words trail off."I don't kid about threesomes, Tabitha. No man does. And I also don't share. Especially in a devil's triangle." He kisses the side of my head. "Okay, I answered three of yours. My turn. What are your real plans for Pelican Bay?" he asks his hands faltering on my back for a second."I told you the truth. I'm not going back to Oklahoma. There's nothing there for me, but here is a whole town of possibilities. I'll need to find a job, of course.""Where?""No clue. Are you hiring?" I ask.He tenses, his hands stopping. "For you. Hell no. You're enough trouble now.""What is it you even do?""Eh, this and that." He starts rubbing again, but I'm not buying it."What happened to the whole, truthfulness from here on out bit?""Fine." He blows out a breath, moving the hair on the top of my head. "I did eight years in the military and then when Mom died during my seco

Books are pulled off shelves, the bookcase tipped over on top of them. Crumpled sheets litter the floor, ripped from the bed. The mattress is off the box spring a few inches. Nothing broken, but it will involve a long cleanup effort. I don't check on the master bedroom, preferring to pretend it's fine. At least for a few more minutes. I'm back to denial.A hamper full of dirty clothes is dumped and scattered on the floor, the few clean items I had left pulled from their hangers in the closet and thrown about the room. There hasn't been time to worry about laundry since I left Oklahoma, but now buying a jug of detergent springs to the top of the list. A knee length jean skirt, two vintage t-shirts, and a tea length party dress I bought on a half-off sale but never wore are undisturbed on their hangers.With little choice, I pick the jean skirt and a grey vintage shirt with the words Chill Out and a row of penguins underneath on it. I bend down to pick up a few books, but quickly giv

A pair of my jeans gets stuck in the back of the front loading washer and I reach in to pull them out. The smell of wild mountain flowers surrounds me. Ridge splurges on the good laundry detergent.There's a ringing somewhere in the house, but I don't feel comfortable answering Ridge's phone so I continue to shove wet clothes in the dryer. One of Ridge's shirts wrapped itself around one of mine and I struggle to untwist the sleeves before saying fuck it and throwing them in the dryer together. There's a sick and twisted satisfaction from our clothes being surrounded together. I've totally lost my mind. It's surely cabin fever from being unable to leave the house for days. Could happen to anyone.Grabbing the empty laundry basket, I slam the dryer door and start the cycle. The ringing starts again. It gets louder the closer to the kitchen I get. My excitement ratchets up as I realize it's the new cell phone Ridge gave me last weekend. No one has called and I've forgotten what it's l

Sunlight filters in through my kitchen window brightening the room. It reflects off the bright yellow walls and I raise a hand to shield my eyes from the glare. Maybe yellow wasn't a great choice for this room. I shuffle to the fridge, but before the door's fully open, there's a muffled ringing from the living room.The phone hidden in the desk.A new home for that needs to happen sooner rather than later. Better yet, an upgrade, cordless. With voicemail.So far I haven't uncovered a hidden answering machine, and the phone is too old school to have voicemail, so I hustle to answer. It rings when I open the drawer and pull the phone out, answering with a muffled hello. No one responds. I'm about to hang up when a voice I'd hoped to never hear again shouts."It's about time you answer one of my calls, Tabby."I'm tempted to match his volume, but it's too early for yelling. "I'm tired. What do you want, Mario?""You know what I want." He lowers his voice to a normal decibel ra