“How is he treating you?”

“Very well, and if you want to question his intentions you can tonight. We’re going to drive up to Silver Ridge for the weekend.”

“You have terrible timing, Chloe,” Dad laughs. “Wendy and I are upstate visiting her sister.”

“Again?” I shake my head, amused that I’m two for two on spontaneous trips to Silver Ridge when Dad isn’t there.

“She’s going through a divorce,” he says quietly. “And having a rough time with it.”

“Oh, damn. That has to be hard. How long are you going to be there?”

“Well, yesterday we had to convince her not to sell her house and buy a yacht, so it may be a while. You two are only going to be in town for the weekend?”

“Yeah, we’ll probably leave Sunday afternoon. Sam has to be back in Chicago for work on Monday. He leaves pretty early so I’m sure he’ll want to be here by like dinner time so we can go to bed at a decent hour.”

“Next time you go to Chicago, let me know and Wendy and I will come down and have dinner with you two.”

“That would be nice! I’ll miss you when we get to Silver Ridge. I was hoping to stay at the house and watch the sunrise over the lake in the morning.”

“You can stay at the house. In separate bedrooms, that is.”

“Deal,” I laugh. “Is Balloon with you?”

“I don’t go anywhere without him.”

I smile again. “You and that dog. Who would have thought you’d be one of those people who takes their dog everywhere.”

“Not me,” Dad chuckles. “Wendy got him a stroller. I haven’t sunk to the level of actually using it yet, though we did bring it.” Right on cue, the dog barks in the background. “You have a key to the house, right?” Dad asks and then calls for Balloon to stop barking.

“Yeah. I think. I mean, I have one, but I’m not sure if I brought it.” The single key to the front door is usually in my wallet.

“If not, there’s a spare out back.”

“Under a fake rock?”

“Hah, what do you take me for, kid? It’s in a little magnetic box that’s stuck under the table on the deck.”

“Sneaky, I like it.”

Balloon keeps barking. “I’ll let you go,” Dad says over the yipping. “Carla has a cat and Balloon is not a fan.”

“Poor kitty. Bye, Dad, love you.”

“Love you too, kiddo.”

I end the call and get up, walking around the apartment to try and shake the sluggish feeling. Yawning, I make another cup of coffee and sit at the island counter. I have to go back and reread what I last wrote before I can start anything new, and I get excited for the upcoming demon fighting scene, though writing about Kellie running through the woods, using magic to tackle the demons sounds exhausting, even though my ass is parked on the metal barstool. It makes sense to me, but sometimes I have a hard time explaining that to other people.

A caffeine buzz sets in about half an hour later, giving me all the motivation I need to get through my scene. The next time I look up, two hours have passed, and my hands are on the verge of cramping from writing nonstop. Satisfied with how much I got accomplished in a short amount of time, I save my document and reward myself with a snack and some TV time.

Sam doesn’t have much junk food, something I’m going to have to remedy fast, so I settle on microwave popcorn and take it to the couch. While it’s popping, I take my computer and empty mug to the living room, setting it up on the coffee table that I push closer to the large windows for a perfect Instagram photo-op.

I spend too much time trying to come up with a clever caption, delete it because it’s stupid, and just use the “am writing” hashtag followed by the series tagline Fight like a girl. Then it’s TV time, and I go right to Netflix. I want to watch something, of course, but I’m also curious to see Sam’s taste in TV and movies. You can tell a lot about a person by their recently binged shows.

He watches a lot of true crime documentaries, along with stuff about World War II. He likes The Office and Parks and Recreation, as well as some other comedy show I’ve never seen. I go through the list of suggested shows, and am happy to see Nightfall is on there. He told me he hasn’t seen it or read the books, but at least he likes something similar enough to get the show picked up in the algorithms, right?

I settle on reruns of Charmed, telling myself I’m going to get up and go for a walk around the city after one episode. Hah. Three episodes—and another bag of popcorn—later, I finally force myself to be productive again. I respond to comments on the photo I posted on Instagram, heart happy to see so many people excited about the next book. Most of the comments are nice, with only a few “you should write faster” or “I’ve been waiting for a YEAR for this and now I’ve lost interest” comments sprinkled in there.

My headache is coming back, and I really want to nap but can’t since I wasted so much time watching TV. I get a few hundred words written when my phone rings.

“Hey, babe,” I say, smile on my face.

“Hey. How are you?” Sam’s voice rumbles right through me.

“Good. Are you just now getting a break?”

“Yeah, it’s been busy all day. Several gunshot victims came in right after we got a couple who was in a bad accident.”

“Ugh, sounds awful.” I close my computer and go from the island to the couch, pulling the blanket up over myself.

“It’s all in a day’s work. What have you been up to?”

“Writing. And, oh, I talked to my dad. He and Wendy aren’t home, so we can stay at the house.”

“I do like the thought of being alone with you, though the thought of fucking you senseless in my childhood bedroom kind of turns me on.”

“Freak,” I laugh.

“I thought about fucking you so many times in that bed.”

“While you jerked off, right?”

“Maybe once or twice.”

“Once or twice a night,” I snort, and he laughs.

“You have no idea how much I wanted you then. It was hard being around you.”

“I’m sure it was hard. Sorry. I’m mature, I know.”

“It’s all part of your appeal,” he says.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“Good. What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll make something so it’s ready when you come home. That way we can eat and leave and get to Silver Ridge before it’s too late.”

“Whatever you make will be fine. Did you have anything in mind?”

“Enchiladas sound good.”

“They do. I’m gonna eat and lie down in my car for a few minutes. I love you, Chloe.”

“I love you too.”

9

Sam

The weekend.

I want it to get here just as much as I don’t. Because after this weekend, I have to confront the thing I really don’t fucking want to. It’s killing me not saying anything to Chloe, and I feel even more like a selfish asshole for wanting to take two more days for myself…and for Chloe. No matter how much I love Chloe, how much I want her and only her, I know this is going to change the course of our relationship.