With the sun shining hotly on my head, I walked up to it. My heart beat fast; I didn’t know why, but I half suspected it was a bomb or something.
Probably stupid. It wasn’t a bomb. But, staring down at the nondescript box, I knew exactly who put it there. Ray. Ray Ruiz was here, left the box, and left. Hell. He really did watch Ash like a hawk, a stalker of epic proportions.
I didn’t want to pick up the box, didn’t want to see what was inside of it, and once I made it to the front door, I tossed a look behind me. The street the house sat on was a busy one, but I didn’t see any cars parked on the side. I didn’t see Ray Ruiz anywhere; I’d stared at his face on Google long enough to recognize him.
Once I opened the front door, I went back for the box. I assumed there was nothing bad in it; the box wasn’t that big, and when I picked it up, it felt pretty light. Still, I held it as far as I could in front of me, leaving the other bags on the floor near the door as I walked into the kitchen and set it on the table. Travis was outside, I noticed, and Ash wasn’t in the living room, so she had to be upstairs.
I thought about opening it, but I knew it should probably be something we did together. This box…it had to be for Ash, but she wasn’t going to open it alone. No, Travis and I were going to be there.
“Back already?” Ash spoke, coming down the stairs. Her hair was wet, and I saw she was busy drying herself with a towel. Her clothes were soaked, which I thought odd. Why would her clothes be wet? “Did you get—”
“I got everything,” I told her. I wanted to ask just what the heck she’d been doing to get her clothes so wet, but Ash’s gaze flicked to the box near me.
“What’s that?”
“I don’t know. I found it sitting outside.”
“Where?” Her tone grew frantic; she instantly thought of Ray. Who else would leave a box like this in front of Sawyer’s house?
“By the front door,” I said. “Let me grab Travis—”
Ash practically dropped the towel she was using to dry herself—which didn’t really work, considering how sopping wet she was—and ran to my side, limping, and she tugged at my sleeves, stopping me instantly. “No, wait. Let me…let me open it first.”
I glanced at Travis outside; he held his cell phone against his ear, and judging from his expression, he wasn’t too happy at what he was hearing. Well, I couldn’t argue with her about it, as it turned out, mostly because Ash had released my sleeve and moved to the table.
The box’s lid was easy for her to lift, and she set it aside as she peered down into it. It wasn’t a huge box, maybe a foot by a foot, no deeper than six inches. Its color was an off-white. Nothing too remarkable, yet I heard Ash’s breathing hitch, practically heard her heart leap into her chest as she gazed down at what was inside.
“What is it?” I asked, honestly afraid to look. Call me a pansy, call me a wuss, whatever. I’d seen horror movies before, and I knew nothing that could be inside that box was a good thing. Travis should be in here; he should’ve been the one to do the looking, not Ash…
“My stuff,” Ash said. Her slender fingers pulled out the keys to our dorm—damn it. I didn’t even realize he had them all this time. He could’ve made copies without us knowing. I wondered whether they’d change our locks if I requested it. Next out was her ID, which I assumed she kept in her pocket during the night of the Halloween party. “And…a letter.” She pulled out an envelope last.
I’d seen her pull similar envelopes from our dorm door before and toss them out without looking at them. She did it to protect me, at the time. I was weak, still depressed. Now I could throw the stupid notes out on my own. Now I had something to live for, someone to fight for. This Ray…I didn’t think I’d be able to take him on one-on-one, but I wasn’t going to sit back and take it, either. I was done doing that. I would no longer be the bullied of Hillcrest.
“Let me get Travis,” I said, moving to the patio doors. I stuck my head outside, and the moment Travis saw me, he quit his pacing. “There’s something you should see inside. Ray was here.”
“What the fuck?” Travis spoke into the phone, letting out a growl as he added, “Fine, fine, fine. Whatever you want, okay? I’ll do it. Just…fit us into your busy fucking schedule, okay?” It looked like he didn’t even wait to listen to what whoever was on the other line said. He simply hung up the phone and stormed inside.
I nearly bumped into him near the table, for Travis had frozen, and when I sidestepped him, I figured out why. Ash was reading the letter, her grey eyes scanning the paper as if the paper held the answers to the universe.
“What does it say?” Travis demanded, and Ash merely offered him the letter, which he tore out of her hands harder than I would’ve liked. “He was fucking here and I didn’t even know it. If this house wasn’t so fucking big, I would’ve…” He stopped himself from saying anything else, his blue gaze scanning whatever was typed on the letter.
He gave me the letter, and I took it—gently, I might add, because ripping a piece of paper from someone’s hand was just rude, whether or not Ash realized it.
Love grows in time.
Four words that, on the surface, didn’t look too bad. They didn’t sound ominous based on their textbook definitions, but with the context, with the sender of this letter being who he was, those four words meant a whole lot more.
Still, I knew they meant more, but I didn’t know exactly what they meant. I moved my eyes between Travis and Ash. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” Ash spoke after a minute of silence, “he thinks I’ve fallen out of love with him. He thinks we can get back what we used to have.” Her throat swallowed her trepidation. “He’s going to watch me, give me time…maybe try to convince me that I was wrong in coming back here, that I should’ve stayed with him.”
“Do you think he’ll come after us?” I probably shouldn’t have asked, mostly because the answer was obvious. Ash threw me a skeptical look, while Travis just frowned. “Will should take some time off and come here. He’s not safe where he’s at—”
“Ooh, goody, everyone can come sleep over like we’re five again,” Sawyer’s sarcastic voice came from the stairwell, and we all turned to watch him struggle as he walked himself down the stairs. His muscular form was pale, and also dripping wet. He wore wet pants, along with no shirt.
What in the hell…
I looked back to Ash. Ash simply stared at Sawyer like he was an annoying little brother, meanwhile I was busy wondering why they were both so wet. Surely they didn’t…they couldn’t. Not after she saw him with Kelsey. I was confused, and I hated it.
Travis, on the other hand, was too wound up in the letter and the fact that Ray had been here under his nose. “I don’t fucking care what we have to do, but I want that prick gone.” He swore under his breath as he gripped the back of the chair he stood near. “Markus isn’t available to come help us for another month.”
Sawyer swayed on his feet, but he made it to the kitchen, grabbing a box of cereal from beside the refrigerator and collapsing in the nearest wooden chair. He sat across from us, seemingly uncaring that he was dripping water onto his own furniture. His hands shook as he opened the box and tore into the bag. We all stared at him, and he was oblivious.
Or, again, he didn’t care. It was Sawyer we were talking about.
He brought a single piece of cereal to his mouth, not chewing on it once it was inside, but sucking on it. “What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Sawyer’s blonde hair was still pink, but it was starting to fade. That, or it just looked like it was fading while it was wet. He grimaced, and he held the side of his head for a moment, as if he had a headache.
Right. No pills at all in this house, not even pain medication. Sawyer really was having a terrible go at life right now, wasn’t he?
“That’s okay, just ignore me,” Sawyer went on, leaning his head back on the chair, popping another piece of cereal. “Just pretend I’m not saying a fucking thing—”
“We’re talking about my
serial killer stalker ex,” Ash spoke bluntly, causing Sawyer to freeze and stare at her. Though his eyes were bloodshot, they radiated an emotion I didn’t know he was capable of: surprise.
Sawyer’s stare turned to Travis and then me. “You…you’re joking, right? This is some…stupid fucking attempt at a joke. It has to be. I’m really not in the mood for—”
Travis sent him a scowl that stopped him from saying anything else. “This isn’t a joke, Sawyer. This is life or death, and we’ve been dealing with it while trying to get you back in your own goddamn head.” Travis was practically fuming, the muscles under his tattoos tensing.
Since it looked like Sawyer was about to say something to only further rile Travis up, I spoke calmly, “Her ex is Ray Ruiz. Look him up. He’s the—”
“The Midtown Strangler, I know who the fuck he is. I pay attention in class, unlike some people,” Sawyer remarked, rolling his eyes as he popped another piece of cereal into his mouth.
My mouth was agape. Not at all what I was expecting him to say.
“I might be an addict, but I like to think I function pretty well,” Sawyer spoke, quieting as he looked at Ash. “This weekend…not including this weekend.” He swallowed the cereal in his mouth, quickly looking away.
That was…a very odd shared look they had. Travis noticed it too, but he said nothing.
“This weekend a lot of mistakes were made,” Ash relented, causing us three to look at her. “But there can’t be any more mistakes, not until Ray’s gone. How, exactly, we’ll get him gone, I don’t know—”
“I told you,” Travis cut in, “I’m getting help on that front.”
She plowed on, “But we need to be aware, we need to be cautious. He’ll be watching us all. Just assume he’s there, even if you don’t see anyone watching you.” It was a physical impossibility for him to be everywhere at once, but I knew what she meant. If we were all careful, we might survive this. Maybe.
“And why the fuck can’t we call the cops on this serial killer stalker ex?” Sawyer questioned, wincing at the strength of his own voice. He didn’t look so big and tough right now, but once the withdrawal symptoms faded, he was, frankly, our best defense against Ray. The strongest of us, physically.
We needed him.
I hated admitting that to myself, but we did. It was true. The more of us that were around to keep an eye out, the more there were to watch over Ash, the less likely something was to happen.
And Will…I had to get him here, had to convince him to come here for his own good. He wasn’t safe in his apartment alone, that much we all knew already. I’d call him after this conversation was done, I decided.
“Because Ray was let off, but I…” Ash quieted, biting her bottom lip. “There are things that I—”
Sawyer watched her fumble over her words, saying, “I get it. No cops. They’ve proved themselves useless time and time again anyway.” He glimpsed to me, for only a split second, and I wanted to say something, to tell him that I didn’t kill Sabrina, but I knew he still wouldn’t believe me. Sawyer just wanted someone to blame, and I took the brunt of it all this time.
Let him try to say something now. Let him try. I was not the same Declan I was months ago.
“So, what do we do, gang?” Sawyer asked, facetiousness dripping off his voice. He moved his shaking hands under the table, out of everyone’s sight. “Get a Scooby Van and try to nab ourselves a serial killer?”
“We wait. We be smart,” Ash said. “No more running away.” At that, she looked at Travis and me. “And no more parties.” With that statement, she glanced at Sawyer. “No more alcohol or drugs, and no more sleeping alone. None of us are safe when we’re alone. We should always be with someone else.”
I agreed with everything she said.
“Okay, and what about oh so wonderful Ray, hmm?” Sawyer mused, though his sarcasm was stifled a bit by the pallid color in his cheeks.
Travis ran a hand through his blue-black hair, the arm with the dragon tattoo tensing. “I’ll keep on Markus. If I bug him enough…maybe he’ll fit us in.”
“Huh,” Sawyer remarked. “Sounds like you come from a family of psychos, Trav.”
A muscle in Travis’s jaw clenched as he answered simply, “I do.”
They bickered back and forth for a while, but I was lost in what Sawyer said before.
I hadn’t heard Sawyer call Travis Trav in…well, years. A childhood nickname, but whereas before it was spoken out of friendship, now it was spoken out of irritation and hatred. Sawyer and Travis definitely had a falling out. We all did, and now…now we weren’t friends again, but we were working together, in a way.
For Ash. It was all for Ash.
Chapter Fifteen – Ash
Those slippers really helped the next few days as my feet began to heal, and being in my clothes again—my own clothes, not that stupid flimsy slip or any of Sawyer’s clothes—felt great. That pill set my mind at ease. And my hair, my hair was once again blonde with a pink bottom half. Sawyer made a comment about the dye as I was doing it, to which I just asked him why he was still shaking so badly.
He didn’t talk to me for a whole thirty-six hours after that.
But, you know, if he could be an asshole, so could I. Just because we had a moment—and a weird, wet one at that—in the shower before did not mean we were close. We weren’t buddies. We were simply two people caught in the same situation. Yes, I might have found him attractive, but any time my mind wandered, all I had to do to remind myself to stay away from him was remember what happened at that party.
And then, always, my mind went to Kelsey. I still hadn’t talked to her. She’d texted me, but after a few days she gave up. It was fine. At least I knew she got back to her own college safely. Talking to her, hearing her voice would only open up the wound again, and I did not want that. The wounds were still too fresh.
I skipped out on my classes. Travis and Declan did the same to spend time with me, and we stayed bunkered at Sawyer’s house. We kept eyes on each other…among a few other things. It was hard to relax when I knew Ray was out there, but those two—they did their best. They were usually conflicting with each other, each of them tugging on an arm of mine and hoping I’d go with them—metaphorically, of course.
Sawyer did notice the new energy, the sexual tension between us, and it was one Thursday morning when he remarked on it. Declan, Travis and I sat on the couch near the TV, and Sawyer was in the kitchen, once again struggling to eat. This time he was eating a real meal, leftovers from last night’s chicken dinner, but his hands still trembled a bit. He was getting better, but I knew that didn’t necessarily mean he was better.
With addicts, it wasn’t a straight shot up or a straight shot down. It was worlds more complicated than that.
“So, what the fuck is going on with you guys?” Sawyer asked, speaking loudly to cover the distance between the kitchen and the living room. “Are you guys like a…a—a thruple or something?” He half-smirked at us, finding himself funny.
Yeah. Those immensely aggravating and unbelievably attractive half-smirks were back now. They’d resurfaced yesterday.
“Oh, don’t pretend you aren’t banging each other every chance you have,” Sawyer went on, either oblivious or not caring about the flaring red surfacing in Declan’s cheeks and the annoyed glare Travis gave him. “This might be a big house, but the walls are still paper-thin. I hear you.” He paused for a moment, setting his fork down. “You know, I bet I could tell which one of you it is based on Ash’s moans alone.”
I got up, shuffled my way over to him—in my fancy new slippers—and whacked him upside the head.
“What the fuck, man,” Sawyer whined, rubbing the back of his head as if I’d hit him with something hard. “Uncalled for.” His jade gaze turned to me; it was becoming less bloodshot by the day, and I worried for the day when he was better, when he no longer shook with the need for his next fix. “There’s nothing wrong with being loud, Ash. The louder the better.”
I lifted my hand again, threatening to whack him a second time, and he stopped immediately. Almost like magic. Would you imagine that. Maybe I should get a water spritzer and spray him anytime he said something inappropriate, treat him like he’s a cat. A soft whap on the head, the threat of water, and a firm hand all as I say, Bad Sawyer. No wet food for you tonight.
The doorbell rang, and for a moment, for a stupid moment—and surely it was a stupid moment because I knew who stood outside, waiting to come in, because Declan told me earlier he’d be on his way—I feared it was Ray.
It wasn’t Ray. It was Will. Will wouldn’t come out right away, but after much begging, I spoke to him and got him to come. Just for a few days. Even after being stabbed, Will didn’t want to be a burden on us, on me.
God, it felt like so long since I’d seen him, and as Declan got up to get the door, my gut twisted in anticipation. Will. I definitely had some strong feelings for that one, too. Ugh. What the hell was a girl to do?
I lingered near Sawyer, staring down the hall. I must’ve worn a dumb expression, my emotions plain on my face, for Sawyer harrumphed and muttered, “Uh-huh. Right, right. Go back to pretending I don’t exist. You have more than enough dick already—ow.”
Okay, I might’ve smacked him a little harder on that one.
The asshole.
Declan and Will came down the hall, and Will set down his bag, locking eyes with me. He looked a bit more haggard than he usually did, his brown hair tousled and a tad too long. His hazel stare lit up when he saw me, and a smile grew on his face. His strong body wore dark jeans and a blazer that hugged his torso in all the right ways, and I could not resist my urge to rush to him.
It hurt my feet to hurry to him, but I didn’t care. I threw my arms around him and hugged him, burying my face against his chest, too happy to see him to remember that he’d been stabbed not that long ago by my ex.
Then again, I’d been hit with Brooklyn’s car, too. Somehow I got the better end of the deal there. No broken bones, no sprains. Only bruises that were pretty much healed by now. That, or the pain from my feet nulled it.
Psycho: A Dark College Romance (Hillcrest University Book 4) Page 11
