I don’t even think twice when I step into the garage to find it open. We often keep it that way when we’re bringing groceries in since it’s the fastest route, and no one can really see her drive from here anyway, so we feel safe.

When I start rifling through the storage shed to find the large umbrella, I hear a boot scrape against the floor behind me. I scream even before turning around.

My first instinct is that it’s a rat, which isn’t ideal, but it’s better than an intruder. I flip around in a whirl to see a man silhouetted against the bright sun behind him.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he mutters, and my heart only hammers harder when my eyes adjust and I realize I’m staring at the tattoo shop owner. He’s standing in my garage.

“What the—” he stammers as he recognizes me at the same moment I recognize him.

“You followed me,” I mumble as I slowly back away toward the door to the house. “Ruby!” I scream through the cracked door.

“What are you doing here?” he barks at me, and my head spins.

Me? What am I doing here? What is he doing here?

“I’m calling 9-1-1!” I respond through a desperate shriek.

“I live here.” His voice is deep and carries with it a tone of consternation, like I’m the one out of place.

“You do not live here.” I keep backing away toward the open door. “Ruby!” I scream again, frozen in place. It’s like finding a spider in your house. You’re more afraid if you turn away it’ll disappear and haunt you in the night. I’m ready for this guy to snap at any moment and reveal that he’s actually a serial stalker and murderer of young women.

“I mean, I lived here. So who the fuck are you and where is Hazel?” He steps forward, and my eyes go wide.

A second later Ruby is behind me, pulling open the door and staring at the same large, stoic stranger in the garage.

“Well, that was fast,” she whispers to him.

“Where is she?” he mutters in return.

“She’s on the patio, but you need to prepare yourself, Mr. Murphy—”

“Oh, fuck that,” he says, interrupting her. Then, he spins on his heel and stalks away without another word. I assume he’s going to the patio.

When I glance at Ruby, I catch an eye roll. She mumbles some choice words under her breath before turning to me to help me find the umbrella.

“Who...is that?”

She glances at me with an amused smile. “Oh, Murph? A pain in my ass, that’s what.”

“A relation?”

She glances at me again, her deep brown eyes sizing me up, like she’s deciding how much to tell me. “Not exactly.” Together we hoist the large patio umbrella from the storage bin, and she stands it up between us before continuing. “It’s complicated. Don’t let him intimidate you. His bark is worse than his bite.”