He’s not looking at me, instead he’s looking straight ahead but his body is not relaxed. Instead he looks like a bomb that’s about to explode. “W...who are you? You’re trespassing,” I stutter and I can barely talk from fear. “If you don’t leave I’m going to call the police.” “Don’t,” he rasps, his husky voice making me feel like someone just lit a match in my heart and I stroke a lock of hair behind my ear, ready to run if needed. “W...who are you?” He turns his face to me, his tourmaline eyes overpowering mine, forcing me into silent submission and my throat constricts. “Why don’t you ask your father?” My mouth drops and I jerk almost a feet into the air when I feel a calming palm on my shoulder and dad gives me a squeeze. “Pattie,” he croaks, white as snow in the face, “it’s good to see you.” “Do not fucking call me that,” the stranger growls, pointing at dad and his finger trembles from rage. “You have no right to call me that anymore.” Panic rips through me at the strangers anger and I anxiously look at my father. “D...dad,” I stutter, “what is going on?”
