Hank stared at him a moment and then rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” Hitting a button on his shoulder radio, he said “I’m ten–eight. Unit Three-­oh-­one is handling the possible break-­in.”

There was a static-­filled response I barely heard, and then Hank showed himself out. Nick remained standing by the recliner. He raised a hand, rubbing his jaw. “You’re okay?”

I wasn’t sure I wanted Nick to leave, because that meant it would just be me and Reece, but I knew Nick had to, as exhausted as I was. I nodded. “Thank you for coming up. I owe you.”

Reece cast his gaze to the window, his jaw working.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Nick glanced at Reece. His eyes narrowed. “You sure you’re good here now?”

“Yeah,” I murmured, my thoughts in a thousand different places.

Nick stopped at the door. The grin on his face warned trouble. “By the way, loved the bows on your panties.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Reece’s jaw became so hard I thought it would snap off as he watched Nick saunter out the door. Then it was just us. He stood with his back to me for several seconds and then wheeled around. Walking over to the couch, he sat on the edge of the coffee table, directly in front of me. “Are you okay?”

Yes. No. Maybe? I had no idea. I was feeling way too much. Scared wasn’t even the right word for how I felt. Someone had been in here—­repeatedly. I felt . . . I felt violated, like all my walls had been stripped away from my home, and I felt stupid that I’d chalked up all the weird happenings as something supernatural. Then again, why would anyone jump to the conclusion that someone was breaking into the house just to mess with things inside of it?

I shuddered as it really hit home. Someone had been in my apartment. Someone had been in here many times, even while I was here. The residual fear peaked once more. How in the hell would I feel safe in this house again? Having that taken from me angered me, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“I don’t know what to feel,” I said finally, leaning back against the cushion.

He rested his arms on his bent knees as he let out a weary-­sounding sigh. My gaze flicked up, collided with his and held. In a second, the shields dropped, and I sucked in an unsteady breath. He looked conflicted—­torn. As if he was experiencing the same wild range of emotions that I was.

“Why didn’t you tell me this stuff was happening?” he asked.