Molly McAdams - Needing Her

There’d been nothing since I’d returned from my trip to Texas six months ago. Just countless, nameless women who never filled a void that shouldn’t have even been there. Turning around, I slapped my hand over my phone and wallet resting on the chair, and walked toward the hall.

“For the record, douche, it’s called a one-­night stand. One. Night! Not one hour,” her voice broke as she continued to scream insults as I left her apartment.

As soon as I was in my car, I pulled up the texts on my phone and tapped out the same message I did every night.

I need to know you’re okay Cassidy. Please call.

My thumb hovered over the SEND button for a few seconds before going up and hitting CANCEL instead. I dropped the phone into one of the cup holders and scrubbed my hands down my face before cranking the engine and starting home.

She’d briefly come back into my life more than six months ago, and was only there for a little more than a week. But that week had fucking wrecked me.

My partner and I had gotten the call six months ago about a house fire that looked suspicious—­and later ended up revealing the bodies of Cassidy’s mom and stepdad—­early that morning. And when Cassidy had shown up hours later, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I don’t know if it’d been the obvious black eye she had, or if somehow, even during all the craziness of interviewing neighbors, I’d known that I recognized her—­but she was all I could see that day. Days later, when I remembered her from a family-­disturbance call I’d gone on years before, the completely innocent girl started haunting my every thought.

She was on my mind constantly. Knowing I’d made the wrong decision in not following up on that call killed me more than I’d ever be able to explain. With my past, and what my father had done to my sister and me, I hated knowing I’d let her live through years of abuse. And then she walked into the coffee shop that morning, and everything changed.

I hadn’t been big on relationships before officially meeting Cassidy—­for shit’s sake, I was only twenty-­five years old and had been career focused most my life. I’d had girls, and claimed a few as mine for a while, but something about actually settling down had always scared the living hell out of me. Not with Cassidy, though. With her, I would have done anything to make her stay in California with me instead of going back to her boyfriend in Texas.

It wasn’t just that she had a past like mine . . . that she knew what it was like to grow up being physically abused by a parent. It wasn’t just that she would understand my fears of turning into my father. And it wasn’t just the fact that she was the strongest person I’d ever met, emotionally—­and in a way, physically. It was all of that, added to something that was just Cassidy. Something that the small and deceivingly fragile-­looking girl exuded from deep down that drew me to her. That within minutes had me ready to make her the center of my world.

When she’d left for Texas, I went out of my mind worrying about her with her boyfriend. He’d been the cause of her black eye, and no matter what she’d said about it being an accident as she tried to break up a fight, I couldn’t get the sight of her sporting it out of my head. I’d gone after her, intent on bringing her back with me, and positive I’d find her looking much like she had when she’d come to California the morning of the fire. What I hadn’t been ready for was her telling me to leave, or how she’d relaxed into him when he came near her, like he was a safe place for her.

But I hadn’t stopped worrying about her, and no matter how many girls there were, and how many nights I’d tried to wash away thoughts of her with drinks . . . she was always there. Her honey-­colored eyes and soft smile still haunted me, and it was a daily battle to not contact her even though I was dying to know she was okay.

I pulled into my spot and slowly made my way up to my apartment. I’d been so lost in my thoughts of a girl over a thousand miles away, I didn’t notice the one right in front of me until her voice filled the otherwise silent hall.

“Hey there, super-­mysterious neighbor. You’ve been gone a lot lately.”

“Maci,” I grunted by way of acknowledgment.

“Where’ve you been?”

“Is that your business?”

“Wait, wait! Don’t tell me.” She stopped trying to unlock her door, raised one dark eyebrow, and pointed at me. “I can smell you from here . . . was her name Sweetheart? Or maybe it was Sweetheart.”

“Hilarious,” I said without emotion.

“Well I thought it was.”

I rolled my eyes and walked past her to my door. “Good night, Maci.”

“Yeah, whatever. Good seeing you too, Connor,” she mumbled to herself as she went back to her door. “Don’t ask how I’ve been, it’s cool. Asshole.”

“Maci.”

“Yes, douchebag?”

My eyes narrowed and I watched as she fought her smile. “You think you can try keeping it down tonight?”

Her smile instantly fell and her head jerked back as confusion settled over her face.

“I’m tired of being kept awake from your headboard hitting the wall.” When her gray eyes flashed, I unlocked my door and glanced at her again. “And you really need to work at faking it. You sound pathetic even from my bed.”

“You are such an asshole, Connor Green!”

“So you’ve said.” I stepped into my apartment and locked the door behind me seconds before I heard her door slam.

Heading back to my bedroom, I stripped out of my clothes and went straight into the bathroom for a hot shower. The girl I’d gone home with tonight had taken a bath in her perfume, and I could feel it seeping into my skin, causing a headache to form that had nothing to do with what I’d drunk earlier. Pressing my hands against the wall, I dropped my head and let the water pour over me as the tightened muscles in my body started relaxing. As soon as I reached behind me for the shampoo, the water turned ice cold and I jumped away from the spray, slipping in the process and barely catching myself on the edge of the tub before hitting the bottom. I scrambled to get out of the shower and when I continued to slip, grabbed the handle and shut the water off instead.

On the other side of the thin wall, I heard the water running, and loudly cursed Maci when I heard the distinct sound of her laughter filling her bathroom.

I slapped my hand on the wall connecting our apartments and shouted, “You sure you want to play this game, sweetheart?”

More laughs came from her side before I heard, “Hope you didn’t bust your ass too hard!”

“Turn the damn water off, Maci!”

“Enjoy your night,” she said in a singsong voice and then there was nothing but the running water from her shower.

Payback is about to be one hell of a bitch, Maci Price.

Maci

TURNING THE WATER on in my shower, I waited for a good five minutes before stepping in, afraid that Connor would give me the same treatment I’d given him the night before. When I didn’t hear movement from his bathroom, I jumped in and stayed tense as I washed my hair and body, ready to get out at a moment’s notice if his water kicked on. When nothing had happened by the time I started shaving my legs, my body relaxed and I wondered again what was going on with him.

The Connor I’d grown up with was completely different from the one who had been hiding out next door for the last half year. He’d never been a very outgoing guy, but he also wouldn’t have let that prank last night go. Amber nailed it when she called him quiet and intense yesterday. Connor exuded this intensity that was somehow demanding and still managed to make you feel safe near him, which was probably why he had been such a good police officer, and now detective. But Connor’s way of dealing with most things was silently. The most I’d ever heard him talk was when he was with my brothers, but even then he was still the quiet and mature one. Almost like he’d lived a dozen lifetimes before and was simply going through the motions of this one.

But this Connor? The one I’d been trying to get a reaction out of last night was nothing like that. Over the last six months or so, Connor was no longer quiet and intense . . . he was gone. Physically and emotionally. I used to see him almost on a daily basis. He would always come into my apartment to use my Keurig because he forgot to start his coffeepot or was just coming in from a long investigation. I could count on both hands how many times I’d seen him in the last six months, and last night had been the first time he’d even said anything in months. He’d always been discreet about his home life, and shut down whenever anyone mentioned his older sister, Amy, but this was unlike anything I’d ever seen from him.

Shutting off the water, I stepped out of the shower and toweled off my hair and body before wrapping the towel around me and heading out to the kitchen for some much-­needed caffeine. As soon as I rounded the corner into my living room, a scream burst from my chest and I clutched the towel around me as I tripped over myself from trying to back away too quickly. I landed with a thud on the hardwood floor and scrambled backward before turning and crawling back into my hallway.

My breathing was rapid and I covered my mouth in case the intruder could hear me. Not like he wouldn’t have heard my scream, or seen me crawl away; but at the moment, quieting my breathing was much more important. When I’d calmed enough to remove my hand without screaming again, I shakily peeked around the corner and a terrified cry escaped as I jerked back to hide from the demon in my living room.

All my worst nightmares are coming to life!

Do I scream for help? Call 911? Oh my God, my phone is in my kitchen! Good God, get a freaking grip, Maci. It’s not even real.

I slowly turned and eyed the offensive, life-­sized blow-­up toy standing in my living room, and tried not to start crying when I saw the white face, red hair, nose, cheeks, and lips. Forcing myself to stand and walk over to the object, I failed at calming my shaking arm as I reached out for the note taped to its chest. A whimper still left me when I touched it.

I hate clowns with a passion.

My blood boiled when I read the words on the page. I was going to kill him. Like honest to God, I was about to go down for murder.

Don’t forget I still have a key to your apartment, Maci, and I’ve known you most your life. I remember all of your biggest fears.

This guy is for the shower, have fun finding my payback for the headboard banging last night.

I really do feel bad for the poor bastard that has to put up with that.

Connor

By the way, you’re out of your little coffee-­cup things.

I am so not out of coffee! I just went to the store a few days ago. Swear to God if that man took all of them, I wasn’t just going to kill him. I was going to kill him, then bring him back so I could junk-­punch him.

I began storming into the kitchen, but when I remembered his words about another payback, I froze, letting only my eyes move around to find any other threats around me. Tiptoeing the rest of the way to the kitchen, I opened the cupboard that held all the K-­cups and found two unopened boxes as well as one opened. I hadn’t moved them, Connor knew where they were, so why would he say they were missing? I reached up to grab one and immediately brought my arm back before investigating for anything suspicious. When it all appeared normal, I brought down a K-­cup and put it in the Keurig before going through the same process in the mug cabinet.

Grabbing the handle of the mug closest to me, I took a deep breath in and pulled it out quickly, prepared for something to be behind it. Nothing.

I bet there is nothing else and he just said that to make me paranoid about my entire apartment. With a heavy sigh I started to slide the mug into the slot on the machine when I saw it, and a scream that rivaled the one I’d had for the clown filled my apartment as the mug went crashing down onto the floor. A giant piece broke off and the tarantula spilled out.

“Not okay. Not okay. Connor!” I screamed as I jumped onto my counter and kept pointing at it on the ground. “Connor help me!”

When a few minutes had passed and Connor hadn’t come in, and the ginormous spider hadn’t moved, I slid off the counter and opened up a drawer closest to me. Grabbing the tongs, I walked closer and had to try three times before I could make my arm go far enough to touch the now obviously plastic tarantula.