What If You & Me Read online

  “Lockley,” Andi supplied.

  “We’d like to have Miss Lockley do a walk-through with us, make sure nothing is missing,” Brody said.

  Andi tensed. “Are you sure you checked everywhere?”

  “Of course.” Christina smiled empathetically, suddenly looking like the woman Hill used to love. “We secured it before coming over here. You’re safe to go back.”

  Andi took a shaky breath. “Okay. I can do a walk-through. Can you come with us, Hill?”

  The plea in her eyes did something to him. God, he wanted to take that fear out of her. Andi was one of those people painted in bright colors. Bright-red hair. Big blue eyes. Thick black eyeliner. Bright bold lipstick. Brash attitude. Seeing her scared and pale seemed like a crime against sunshine or something. “Sure. We’ll all go. We won’t leave you alone until you feel safe.”

  She rolled her lips together and nodded.

  He stood and put his hand out to help her up. She took it, but when he went to release her, she held on tight, sending a silent message. He squeezed her hand and kept hold of her. I’ve got you.

  The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by his ex.

  Part of him wanted to make a show of it. Put his arm around Andi like, Yes, this bright, beautiful woman is with me—even if it was a lie. But he knew Christina wouldn’t be jealous anyway. She was happily involved with Josh Matterhorn, the guy she’d left him for. The fellow firefighter who’d pulled Hill out of a burning building the night he’d lost his leg. The guy who used to be one of his closest friends.

  The ghost of his old life rolled through Hill, and he had to breathe through the pain it stirred up. His relationship with Christina was dead. His relationship with Josh was dead. His leg was gone. His career was gone. The man he used to be didn’t exist anymore.

  He could see that reality every time Christina looked at him. The man she’d wanted to marry had died in that accident. All that was left now was the echo of who he used to be. A cheap imitation with missing parts.

  Andi squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the moment, and he sent her a silent thank-you.

  They all made their way over to the neighboring side, and Andi went room by room, staying close to Hill. She was supposed to be checking for missing items, but he could tell she was more focused on checking every closet and every nook where a person could hide.

  Christina had pointed out Andi’s big stack of horror DVDs and her shelves of scary novels and true-crime books. “Not into the lighthearted, Ms. Lockley?”

  “Horror’s my job,” Andi had said, a little bite to the words. When they made it back to the kitchen, Andi let out an audible breath. “I don’t see anything missing. Maybe I scared them off before they could get anything.”

  “Or maybe you just spooked yourself,” Christina said in an offhanded tone. “It happens. I know when I watch scary stuff, I hear noises that aren’t there.”

  “Chris—” Hill started to call her out on the patronizing tone, but Andi got there first.

  “I know what I heard,” Andi said, tone polite but sharp. “I know what I felt. And I didn’t imagine my door being open.”

  Brody nodded and jotted a few more notes. “If someone did get in, they probably didn’t have long. Your phone’s right there by the fridge. That would’ve been an easy grab. Your purse was out front. You either scared them off or the door wasn’t latched correctly.”

  “Or someone was breaking in to do something worse than theft,” Andi said grimly. “I’m a woman living alone.”

  The thought of some creep sneaking around Andi’s place made Hill’s fingers clench into fists. “I’ll have the locks changed and get an extra dead bolt installed in the morning.”

  Brody snapped his notebook shut. “Yeah. An extra dead bolt is never a bad idea—maybe an alarm, too.” He put his hand out to Andi. “Ms. Lockley, you let us know if you find anything missing or see anything suspicious.”

  “I will. Thank you,” Andi said, her face drawn and tired as she shook Brody’s hand and then Christina’s. “I appreciate y’all checking everything out.”

  “Of course,” Christina said.

  Brody smiled a genial smile. “The good news is you have Dawson living next door.” He clapped Hill on the shoulder. “So even though it doesn’t feel that way right now, you’re probably in the safest house on the block. He can be a grumpy dude, but I’d trust this guy to have my back any day.”

  Hill snorted.

  Andi’s gaze slid Hill’s way. “Yeah, I was lucky to have him here tonight.”

  “I was glad to help,” he said, meaning it. “Anytime.”

  Christina and Brody said their goodbyes, and Hill walked them out, stepping outside on the porch with them for a moment, closing the door behind himself. Brody glanced out at the darkened street. “We did have a break-in not too far from here last month, about four blocks over. Took a laptop and an Xbox. If there was someone here tonight, my guess is it’s something like that. Probably thought no one was home and could make a quick grab.”

  “I’m going to get an alarm installed,” Hill said.

  Christina crossed her arms. “I don’t know. If someone were here to steal, they would’ve taken the phone at least. Your neighbor seems like a sweet enough girl, but I think she freaked herself out. All that horror shit will make you jumpy.” She cocked a brow. “Or maybe she just wanted to knock on your door in the middle of the night. She looks like she could be a bit of a drama queen—you know, with the hair and the nose ring and all.”

  Hill scoffed. “A drama queen?”

  Christina had always been particularly tough on women who showed a lot of emotion. She’d been raised with brothers and thought an ironclad poker face was next to godliness. Andi’s unedited, messy reactions wouldn’t compute for her.

  Christina shrugged. “She seems like someone who would enjoy being the center of attention. The whole damsel-in-distress routine, you know?”

  Hill’s jaw clenched. “Andi thought someone had broken into her house. I think she has the right to be dramatic over that. She didn’t leave her door unlocked. She’s the careful type. She was legitimately terrified.”

  Brody ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, the lady looks scared. Go talk to her and reassure her she’s safe. And if anything turns up missing, tell her to give us a call.”

  “Will do.” Hill shook Brody’s hand. “Thanks for coming out.”

  “Anytime.”

  Christina nodded instead of offering a handshake. Fine by him.

  When Hill went back inside, Andi was standing in the middle of her living room, arms hugged to her chest, looking around like she was in a foreign place.

  He ran a hand over the back of his head. “You okay?”

  Andi turned to him, posture tight, guarded. “That female officer thought I was imagining things.” Her chin tipped up. “I’m not. This isn’t me creating scary stories. That door was locked. Someone who was not me opened it.”

  He sighed. “I know. I believe you.”

  Her shoulders drooped like her puppet strings had been cut. “You do?”

  “Yeah. I know that feeling of someone being there even when you can’t see them yet. I’m sure Christina does, too. Cops rely on all those senses and instincts in dangerous situations.” He glanced back at the closed front door. “Don’t worry too much about her. It wasn’t about you. She was in a bad mood because I was here.”

  Andi lifted her brows. “Why’s that? She have something against firefighters?”

  “Just one.” He double-checked that the door was locked, giving it a tug to make sure the lock caught, before turning back to her. “We used to be engaged.”

  Her lips parted. “Oh. Wow. Awkward.”

  “Can be.” He shifted his weight off his prosthesis, his knee aching. “Do you need anything? I’ll call a locksmith in the morning, an
d I’ll get an alarm put in as soon as I can get someone out here.”

  She leaned against the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you tell me you owned the place?”

  He shrugged. “I use a management company for the rental properties I own. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be on your toes around me or something because I’m the landlord.”

  She twisted the string of the athletic shorts she’d borrowed. “Thanks for helping me tonight. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t opened your door.”

  “You can always knock on my door,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweats and stepping closer. “Honestly.”

  Her mouth ticked up at the corner. “Even though you’ve been avoiding me since I barged in on you with brownies?”

  He frowned. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

  She tilted her head, a wry look on her face.

  He let out a breath. “Okay, maybe I have a little. It’s not about you. I’m just…”

  “Not a social butterfly. I get it. You won’t be the first or the last to avoid my chatter. I can be hell on introverts.” She gave a little smile. “But I’m willing to forgive you for this avoidance because you opened the door and were my hero tonight.”

  He shook his head. “Not a hero. Only a neighbor. You would’ve done the same for me, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, of course.” She laughed and put up her fists like she was ready to box. “I’d totes protect my giant werewolf neighbor from the bad guys. They’d cower in terror at the mere sight of me.”

  Something tense released in his shoulders. It was hard to stay serious when Andi was shadowboxing in his oversize shorts. “Your werewolf neighbor?”

  A little color came back into her cheeks as she put her arms down, and a flash of guilt crossed her face. “You know. Bearded, stomps around late at night, hides from humans.”

  He groaned and rubbed the spot between his eyes. “You’re going to murder me in a book, aren’t you?”

  “Ha. No, you’re safe,” she said. “As long as you promise not to attack me when the full moon comes around. Or any moon phase for that matter.”

  Hill nodded. “Deal.”

  They stared at each other for a few quiet seconds, and he cleared his throat. “Uh, do you need anything before I head out? I’m sure you’re ready to get to sleep.”

  She glanced at the front door, and the light in her eyes dimmed again, as if remembering why he was there in the first place. “I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep—possibly for the rest of my life now. But you’re relieved of your duties. Thank you again.”

  He caught the waver in her voice, the anxiety there. She was putting on a brave face, but she was clearly still petrified. “I could stay.”

  The words came out before he could evaluate them and declare them certifiably insane. I could stay? What the hell?

  Abort. Abort. Abort.

  Chapter Seven

  Andi blinked at Hill’s offer. “What?”

  Hill scratched his beard, looking altogether uncomfortable. “I mean, if you’re scared to stay alone, I could sleep on the couch. Maybe you could get some rest that way.”

  Sleep on her couch? The neighbor she barely knew? Oh, hell no. She shook her head automatically. Guys didn’t sleep over. Period. End of sentence. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You don’t have to ask,” he said with a shrug. “I’m offering. It’s only a few hours ’til morning anyway.”

  Her gaze swept over him. The man was just so big. And intimidating. Even in sweats and a T-shirt, he looked like some comic superhero—or villain. Complete with bionic leg.

  Sexy as fuck. But also scary as hell.

  She didn’t know him. And even though her gut was saying good guy, she’d learned her gut was far from reliable when it came to men. Her gut had almost gotten her killed. She hated that she could just as easily imagine Hill kissing her breathless as she could imagine him putting his hands around her throat and choking the life out of her. Her imagination was her best asset and her worst enemy sometimes.

  When she was quiet too long, he lifted his palms. “I won’t be offended if you say no. I’m fine either way. If you’d rather, I can give you my number, and you can call if you feel scared or want me to check on anything.”

  She rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the chill bumps. The thought of being alone sent a rush of fresh nerves through her. Honesty fell past her lips. “I’m legitimately freaked out to be alone right now, and the thought of having someone here sounds great, but it’s kind of my policy not to let guys sleep over.”

  “Oh.” He blinked. “Like ever?”

  She made a slightly pained sound in the back of her throat. Yes, like ever. Like ever ever. Like I haven’t slept next to a Y chromosome since I was a teenager—and that chromosome was attached to a sociopath. She forced a wan smile. “Paranoid, remember? I’m not so good with trusting men not to murder me in my sleep.”

  He stared at her for a moment, processing that. “Wow, Andi, that’s—”

  “Yeah, I know,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m morbid. It’s one of my most charming qualities.” She met his eyes again, hoping the sarcasm in her voice would undo her TMI confession. “But maybe you could stay for a beer or something? Just for a few minutes until I calm down a little more and we’re sure the murderer-rapist who possibly wants to wear my skin as a coat isn’t coming back?”

  He considered her. She sensed he wanted to ask more questions, but to his credit, he simply nodded. “Sure. A beer would be great.”

  She let out an audible breath, the amount of relief she felt surprising her. “Awesome. Thanks. Be right back.”

  Andi returned, finding Hill in her well-worn recliner, and handed him a bottle of Ghost in the Machine beer. “That’s my good stuff. Only break it out for special company.”

  “I’m honored.” He took it from her and tipped it back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He lowered it and smiled her way. “Oh, that’s really good.”

  “Right?” She took a spot on the couch across from him and sipped her beer, tucking her legs beneath her. She caught him staring at her feet. She looked down at her toes and then back to him. “What?”

  “Uh.” A little color came into his cheeks. “What?”

  “You were staring at my feet.”

  He winced. “Sorry. The dark-blue toenail polish caught my eye. I have a bad habit of gathering details about people and coming up with my own story about who they are. It was a game I used to play in my head as a kid after reading a book about an FBI profiler.”

  “Writers do that, too.” She looked down at her toes and wiggled them. “So you think blue nail polish says something about me?”

  “Maybe.”

  She pointed the neck of her beer at him. “Do tell.”

  He gave her a wouldn’t-you-like-to-know look. “Nah, people don’t like to be FBI profiled.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “Oh no. You’re on the hook now. What conclusions have you drawn about me? I’ll give you a free pass to say what you want.”

  “There are no free passes in life.” He gave her a pointed look as he took a pull from the beer. “That’s a trap.”

  “Oh, come on.” She flicked her hand in a bring-it-on motion. “I promise I’m not that sensitive. I write books and do a public podcast. I’ve had people on the internet post that I’m a hack, that I exploit crime victims, that I’m the reason women shouldn’t write horror. Tonight, a reviewer offered to tie me up because I must get off on true crime, and I guess he was up for victimizing me.”

  His eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance. “The fuck?”

  “Yeah, being a woman on the internet is fun. But the point is, you’re not going to offend me. Give me your profile.”

  He stared at her for a moment and then set his beer asi
de. “All right. On the outside, you seem like a woman who’d be too cool for the room. Nose ring. Bright hair. Quirky toenail polish. Horror novelist. Like the girl in high school who only listened to bootlegged indie rock and who set trends with her retro clothes from Goodwill.”

  She took a long draw off her beer, amused by how he viewed her.

  “The kind who would never date Mr. Popularity or Mr. Student Council President or Mr. Guy Next Door because they were so not alternative. Only poets and skateboarders for you.”

  She lowered her bottle, frowning.

  “But you have no visible tattoos. No permanent marker of your alternativeness. And you have this down-home, welcoming, bake-you-brownies warmth about you. So, my guess is this look is something you use to weed people out. You want most people to categorize you quickly and dismiss you, because then you only have to pay attention to the people who see past the surface. Those are the people you think are worth your time. You have lots of friends but few who get your total trust. My guess is that in high school, you weren’t too cool for the room, you were the nice girl everyone could count on. The friend people took for granted.”

  She stared at him. Floored.

  He took a gulp of his beer, watching her the whole time, and then gave her a faint smile. “You’re about to tell me I’m wrong and I can go to hell, aren’t you? That you spent high school touring with a punk band, writing their songs, and dating the lead singer. That you really are too cool for the room.”

  Andi set down her beer, still processing all he’d said. “You got all that from blue toenail polish?”

  “Not solely the polish,” he said without elaborating. “Did I get anything right?”

  She swallowed past the wave of vulnerability his assessment had brought on and tried for a light tone. “That’s some goddamned spooky magic shit, Hill.” She shook her head. “You got everything right except the tattoo. I have one. Just not visible.”

  “Oh.”

  He glanced down her body, a quick jaunt, but not quick enough for her not to notice. She found she didn’t really mind him wondering where her ink was.