Chapter 18: Gwen - Hunter or Hunted

“Gwen.” Eyes pinched shut, Sebastian pulled back. “Maybe now isn’t the time.”

I cocked my head to the side and unwound my leg from his. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He laughed, eyes meeting mine. “But it was a hard day. Last time we did this, it had also been a hard day. I just—It feels weird, you know? Like I’m taking advantage of the drunk girl at prom.”

“I’m not drunk.” Confusion pinched my brows, and I softened the tone with a quiet laugh of my own. “But I get it. Funerals are hard for you. We don’t have to do anything.”

“No, I’m good.” Judging by the way his face scrunched up, he was offended that I thought this had anything to do with him. “It’s not about me. It’s just… Well, the first time we had sex, you were vulnerable. And today, you’re also kind of vulnerable. I don’t want to take advantage of that.”

I laughed so hard that I snorted. I hadn’t meant to, and I appreciated his very trauma-informed approach, but I didn’t need it.

When I kept laughing, now at the memory of him calling me a little piggy the last time I snort-laughed, he joined in, gingerly taking my cheek in his hand. “What’s so funny? Why are you laughing?”

“Just the whole idea.” Grasping my stomach, still resting my head on the pillow, I shook my head. “If you want to wait for me to be completely mentally and emotionally stable before we have sex again, I don’t know if you’re ever going to get laid.”

Chuckling, he trailed his thumb along my cheek. Rather than concern in his eyes, I caught the hint of teasing playfulness. “I was just trying to be considerate.”

“And I love you for that.” I lifted my leg over his hips and slid my thumb along his lower lip. “But I’m a big girl. You don’t need to be so careful with me. I’m not gonna break if you squeeze me too tight.”

A moment of silence passed as he trailed his fingertips down my cheek, surveying me. Like he had to check that truth of that statement. Like he had to make sure I was as okay as I claimed. Or maybe just to assure himself that I was not the drunk girl at prom.

The longer he looked at me, the more his pupils expanded, taking up almost all the green in his irises. He came in for a kiss. This one was as deep and slow as mine had been. One of his hands twisted around my back, arching me closer until every inch of our bodies were flush. Against my lips, words like velvet parted his. “I’ll always be careful with you.”

Those few words should not have done to me what they did.

I kissed him again, tucking my leg tight around his waist, falling into the euphoria of his touch. My hands traveled over his skin faster, harder, than the last time we had shared our bodies this way.

His did too. The first time, we were slow, cautious, peeling off layers like the fragile skin of a fruit. So afraid of damaging what lay beneath the shell. But now, he ripped through the linens that covered my body with an intense hunger for the taste of the flesh that lived beneath them.

But he hadn’t lied a moment ago. He was careful. Just in a way I had never witnessed before.

As his hands traveled over my body, between my legs, I didn’t feel like a delicate flower whose petals he feared ripping, but a work of art he desperately admired. We rolled beneath the sheets from one position to another, and with every new glance, every new view, his eyes washed over me with a similar look as the faces of churchgoers each Sunday morning. An intense needing, longing, for more. For everything. A sort of worship that had swarms of butterflies dancing through my stomach, my chest, and as far south as my body reached.

It wasn’t the slow lovemaking it had been before, but passionate. Passionate, but not fiery. Not angry. Admiration, obsession, shined in his eyes. A desire to feel every inch of me, know each part of me, every intimate corner of my mind and body.

No one had ever looked at me like that before. Like I was everything. Like they wanted for nothing else when their hands trailed across my skin.

As the waves of pleasure rolled through my body, they set every nerve ending on fire. I made noises that I prayed Beth didn’t hear downstairs. The euphoria stayed with me, and with him, as we crashed into the blankets below.

* * *

We spent the rest of the evening in that room. As desperate as I was for more information, I didn’t want to make a lasting impact on this town’s psyche. Imagine we went door to door saying, “Hey, did you know Allie? What about her relationship with Evan? How was he handling her disappearance? Could you see him killing her?”

People who knew him, who loved him, would tell us to screw ourselves. People who hated him would remember us. When the cops came asking about his disappearance after I killed him, they’d tell them about the weirdos who showed up asking questions.

At the funeral, when I talked more to Ava and Allie’s friends, I hoped any memory of me would blur into the chaos of grief. Charlotte was already eager to forget I’d shown up at all.

We ordered a pizza from the place on the corner and ate it in bed. Simone video called me so I could see Honey, and Sebastian spoke to Lizzie for half an hour. Honey looked happy as could be curled up on Simone’s couch, cuddled up with Junie. Lizzie didn’t mind Sebastian’s absence either. She and Aubrey were staying up way past their bedtime, snow tubing and soaking up every moment left of their winter break.

Sebastian and I fell asleep around 11. He woke first, around 8:30. When he finished showering, I got in behind him. He wore his scratchy, uncomfortable button-up again. This time, though, with a cozy white undershirt. I put on black tights and a knee-length black dress. In my purse, though, I had a pair of sneakers, a mask, gray sweats, nitrile gloves, and a big black hoodie. Big, and baggy. Once I threw them over my dress, no one would recognize me.

We stopped down in the dining room for breakfast. I expected more people to have gathered around the table, as bed-and-breakfasts were known for mingling, but it was just Sebastian, me, and a quiche.

He got up to use the bathroom and grab some coffees, set up at a wet bar between the formal spaces at the front of the house. As I spooned a healthy scoop of fruit into my bowl, the chestnut door to the kitchen swung open.

Carrying a tray of biscuits, Beth came through. She gave me a friendly smile. “Wow, what are you all dolled up…” The smile faltered. She cleared her throat and laid the tray in the middle of the table. “You look very nice, dear.”

“Thank you.” The expression I gave her was just as awkward as that interaction. “Feels silly, doesn’t it? Getting dressed up for a funeral.”

She dusted her hands on her full hips. “Jewish people hold shiva after someone they love passes. They cover the mirrors, they don’t bathe, they don’t wear makeup. If anyone visits, they bring food, not flowers. Appearances don’t matter during shiva.” She paused. “I think that’s a nice tradition.”

“So do I.” I surveyed her expression a moment longer, noting the downturn of her lips and that soft, sad look in her deep brown gaze. “Did you know her? Allie?”

“I did, yeah.” A smile, just as sad as her eyes. She gestured around. “This place is mine and my husband’s retirement plan. He’s got a few more months to go before he can access his 401K, so I do most of the management here for now, but… Anyway, I was a teacher for forty-six years. Retired in 2022. Allie was a student of mine all through middle school. I coached her soccer team one year too. Such a sweet, bright girl. I’m gonna try to stop by the funeral home at lunch. Pay my respects.”

More than a superficial connection then. They may not have been the closest, but they were far from strangers.

“Did you guys stay in touch when she went to high school?”

Shoulder lifting with a deep breath, she shook her head. “I wish we would’ve, but not really. We just saw each other around town. A few months back, maybe closer to a year ago now, I went to one of the school football games. We spoke for a few minutes.” Jaw tight, she pressed her lips together. “Evan showed up in that monster of a truck. Started honking at her. Jumped out and came over when she didn’t move fast enough. We didn’t get to talk long.” She gritted her teeth, then forced another smile across her lips. “That boy, he sure didn’t like her sharing her time with anyone else. Even a little old lady like me.”

“You’re not that old,” I teased.

“Older than I look.” She chuckled and reached across the table to adjust some silverware. “Is there anything else I can get you? Did y’all sleep well last night?”

“I am all set, and we did. The room was very cozy.” I reached for the pitcher of orange juice in the middle of the table and poured my glass. “That’s what Allie told me too. About Evan. He was… overbearing at times.”

“More than overbearing. My niece—she’s still in school—and she heard that—” Tongue in her cheek, Beth shook her head. “I shouldn’t gossip. Especially at a time like this.”

“Gossip isn’t always a bad thing, you know.” Rhiannon had given me an entire lecture on the topic shortly after I’d arrived at the ranch. “Gossip used to be a noun, actually. It’s what women called their friends. Their gossips. And when women are together, we talk. We share information. If there was a creep in town, we’d tell the other girls to stay away from him. That’s when it went from a noun to a verb. It only became a bad thing when the creeps in town realized the women were calling them the town creep.”

She cocked her head to the side, propping a hand on her hip. “I never thought of it that way.”

That was by design. “I’m just saying. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with two women sharing information.”

“Well, when you put it like that.” She glanced behind me and pulled out the chair to my left. “Deanna, that’s my niece. She’s a junior. Same grade as Allie’s sister, Ava.”

I had the feeling I knew where this was headed, and I hated it already. “Yeah, I met Ava yesterday.”

“I guess Evan’s been picking her up from school each day.” She lowered her voice. “Which is inappropriate enough as it is. I know the families are friends and everything, but he’s a decade that girl’s senior.”

“You think something’s going on between them?”

“Deanna does.” Her nose curled up. “I heard they were all over each other at the funeral yesterday too. And Charlotte didn’t seem bothered.”

I wouldn’t have phrased it that way. Ava gave him a hug. He was the one feeling up her back end. As for the latter half of that statement, I couldn’t argue.

“Oh my,” I murmured.

“That poor girl. She has no idea what she’s getting herself into.” Beth leaned back in her seat, shaking her head. “I don’t even know if it’s legal. And what’re you gonna do anyway? If the parents don’t see an issue, how can we help Ava to?”

“It’s bizarre,” I said. “Not even getting into the age difference—that’s her dead sister’s ex-boyfriend.”

“No, let’s get into the age, because that’s half the problem.” Beth wagged a finger. “Have you seen Henry? Because he met Charlotte when she was eighteen. How’s Charlotte gonna see the issue with her girls and that boy if she can’t see the issue with her own marriage?”

“I thought the same thing. Still though, don’t parents want better for their kids than they’ve had themselves?”

“Oh, of course. But that’s just it, sweetie.” She leaned in, voice still low. “How can they want better if they don’t even know what better looks like?”

“That is a nice bathroom.” Sebastian’s voice sounded behind me. “I didn’t know if a bidet was for me, but now I know it is, and I think I’m buying one when we get home.” He’d pushed the door to the dining room open with his back. As he spun around, holding two coffees in paper cups, his face turned blood red. “Oh, hi, Beth. How’re you this morning?”

She choked on a laugh as she stood. “Can’t complain, honey. But I better get back to work. Enjoy your breakfast and just holler if you need anything. And thanks for the chat, Zoey.” She picked up a couple of the used plates on the other side of the table. “If you do get a bidet, make sure you go with a heated one. You might have to put a GFCI near the toilet, but trust me. It’s worth the hassle.”

* * *

After we finished our breakfast, Sebastian and I began our walk. The funeral home was on the west side of town. Evan’s was on the east.

Sebastian and I walked north together for about two blocks. Straight ahead, trees swayed in the warm breeze. Swings at the playground on my right creaked and squealed as the air drifted them back and forth.

We kissed goodbye, and I continued toward the park. Only the dinosaur bounce toy stared back at me, thankfully. No witnesses would see me head into the woods in the back corner.

As far as Sebastian knew, I went for a solitary walk to clear my mind before wishing my friend well on her journey to whatever came next. That way, if questioned, no one would suspect his involvement in my break-in.

Once protected by tree cover, certain no one had eyes on me, I slid off my ballet flats and stepped into the sweats and tennis shoes. Carefully, I tucked every bit of my dress deep into the fabric. Next came the mask, tucking my curls into a clip at the back of my head, then the hoodie to cover it all. Gloves went on last. I checked myself in my phone camera. No way in hell anyone could identify me like this.

Aside from the gloved hands I stowed in my pockets, I didn’t look suspicious. Just cozy. Like I was preparing to walk Honey on a cold winter day.

And for this environment, it was fitting. While Sebastian and I were comfortable in dress clothes without a jacket, the fifty-degree weather may as well have been a snowstorm to these Missouri natives. Everyone at the funeral had worn long sleeves. There was even a coat closet—full to the brim—just past the entrance.

The two-mile walk from the park to Evan’s gave me time to think through what I was about to do.

If I got caught, what was the punishment? A couple months in prison? Certainly no more than a year or two. Far less than the life sentence, or lethal injection, I’d face if I killed Evan. Or if the cops found out what I’d done to David.

Maybe I had to treat this as a test, like Sebastian said. If I got caught breaking in, then I couldn’t get away with killing Evan. I’d be the first suspect.

I’d never called myself a religious person, and that wouldn’t change any time soon. But as I ventured through the woods, following the east-facing compass on my phone, I made a deal with the universe.

If I get caught now, all bets are off. I won’t kill anyone else. I’ll let this anti-hero, vigilante fantasy die.

But if I don’t get caught, I’ll take it as a sign. Confirmation from you that I’m doing the right thing.

The universe stayed silent.