But if a couple of tears slipped out of my eyes, I sucked in a breath and pretended they hadn’t.

I stood there and just stared at the door, telling myself to go in. What were the chances there was someone inside?

Someone inside. How could there have been someone in my house? What if I’d been in there too?

Crouching down, I just stayed there, staring at the dark hole. The police would get here when they got here. I wasn’t going to go inside. Not alone.

My hands went up to my cheeks without thinking, wiping at my face slowly. I set my hand on my chest and for some reason thought about the necklace I had put on Rip. He still hadn’t given it back. Just as quickly as that thought came into my head, it slipped right back out as I focused on the front of my house again.

Everything would be fine.

It would.

Chapter 21

I wasn’t at all surprised when I got zero sleep that night.

I figured it wasn’t unheard of when the only thing keeping your front door closed was a console table you had dragged over. If I’d had anything heavier that I could have pushed on my own, I would have. But there was only so much I could do alone, and I didn’t have that much furniture.

So, I hadn’t slept. I’d been too paranoid, lying in bed and listening to make sure no one pushed the door open. When I wasn’t worried about that, I laid there thinking about my sisters talking to my dad.

It hadn’t exactly been the greatest night of my life.

So when the alarm clock went off, just as I had barely started to sort of doze off, I had almost cried. Almost.

Why did things like this always have to happen to me? Why? Why couldn’t I catch a break every once in a while?

I knew I was being dramatic. I knew there were worse things in the world than having your home broken into and your things stolen and broken. At least I had a place to call home. At least I had insurance. But… it all still felt like a donkey kick to my freaking soul.

You get one step ahead and then have to take five back. That was life sometimes, wasn’t it? For everyone, not just me.

I was just sulking, and I didn’t know what to do with myself or how to wear it right.

I didn’t cry as I dragged myself off my damaged mattress—because they had even messed with that. I hadn’t even had the heart to fix the fitted sheet so it would serve as a barrier between me and the bed that had been the first bed I had ever bought, so I’d been all about splurging a little. And now, it was seriously injured. Someone had taken a knife to it, dragging that blade from one end to the other.

Because some asshole had broken into my house and torn it up for no reason.

Did I look like I was rich? Or some spy with secrets I had stitched into the mattress? It just seemed so… senseless. Even the cops had agreed. They had gone as far as to ask if there was anyone who could be upset with me.

I told them, no, but I knew there were. Just not anyone I figured would be upset enough to do something like this. Trip me? Slash a tire? Kick me while I was down? Yeah.

But break into my house? I wasn’t that bad of a person—at least I didn’t think so.

Getting dressed and ready for the day took longer than it should have, and when I went to check the door and couldn’t because it had been kicked in, I’d almost cried again. I did what I could to secure it from the inside, and then snuck around to the back door and went out the through the yard. I headed to work, trying so hard to focus on driving and not what was waiting for me back home and… failing.

My heart, and every part of my body, felt heavy as I walked into CCC. I put my things in the desk, then headed up the stairs to make the coffee I didn’t really feel like drinking. If I was going to be honest, I didn’t really feel like doing anything. Sure as hell not working. But I knew I was going to need money and the only way to get it was by going to work. Even if only for a few hours. A small paycheck was better than no paycheck.

I made coffee and was relieved there wasn’t any arguing in the room next door. When I heard noises coming from downstairs, I sighed and prepared the other mug of coffee, because no matter how crappy I felt, not making Rip his would be like… not putting on deodorant—even if I was pretty sure I might have forgotten to put on deodorant that morning once I thought about it.

I wasn’t going to cry.

Losing my things wasn’t a big deal because at least I was okay.

I went down the stairs, making faces so I wouldn’t lose it. I could make it through the day. I would. During my lunch break, I could call around to some handymen and see if any of them could go by the house once I got off work and fix the door for me. I was pretty sure there were a decent number of projects on the schedule, but Mr. Cooper would let me leave once I told him. I knew he would.

I swallowed and would have pinched the tip of my nose if I’d had a free hand.

Down on the main floor, I looked around and found Rip standing by one of the tool chests, opening and closing drawers as he looked for something. Thankfully. Maybe I could get away with making it back to my room without him glancing at me. That happened often enough, didn’t it?

I needed to quit. What had I told myself about things out of my control? There was no reason to get hung up on them.

But my luck decided to remind me it was never that great.

Because I had barely set the mug down when Rip muttered, “Thanks, Luna,” then he happened to flick his gaze in my direction.

I could tell it had meant to be fast. Just a glance. But no sooner had his eyes gone back to what he’d been looking at, that they returned to me. Rip straightened as a frown took over his mouth and his eyebrows drew together.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, those incredible eyes moving over my face quickly.

I tried to give him a smile but only got about half of it on my face before I gave up. “Nothing.”

His eyes stopped moving, and I’d swear his voice got deeper as he asked again, “What’s wrong, Luna?”

My mouth strained in its weak position as I repeated myself. “Nothing.”

He shut the drawer he had opened without looking down and turned that huge body toward me. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“I can see it on your face,” he claimed in that rough voice, taking a step forward.

I pressed my lips together and let myself blink twice, quickly. When my voice came out like an almost whisper and it was huskier than normal, I tried not to let the frustration show on my face. “It’s nothing you need to worry about,” I tried to tell him.

And just like that, his face clouded over and he took another step toward me. “I wanna worry about it. Tell me what’s wrong.”

He—

I felt my nostrils flare. Felt myself press my lips tighter together, and I blinked even more. Keep it together. Keep it together. “Rip, it has nothing to do with work. I didn’t mess up.”

His eyes moved over my face even more, and he took yet another step closer, that frown not going anywhere. “What happened?”

With my free hand, I reached up and did pinch my nose that time, letting myself close both my eyes briefly before they decided to betray me like everything and everyone else in my life, apparently.

Stop.

I was fine. None of this was worth crying over. I was okay.

“I didn’t get any sleep is all,” was all I could get out, and even to me, it sounded like I was full of it.

Rip breathed, and I didn’t need to look to know he was even closer to me than he had been a moment before. “Why?”

He wasn’t going to drop this. Okay. All right.

I wasn’t going to cry. I could just tell him. Quick like a Band-Aid. Rip it off. “My house—”

And, I was going to cry. Yep. There was no denying it.

“What happened to your house?” he asked slowly.

My voice wavered like a flag on a windy day. “It got broken into.” There. I said it. I had survived it. “They stole some things, tore up other things…” I had to stop again after that. My nostrils flared, and I pinched my nose again, opening my eyes. “I’m a little upset about it.”

I tried to smile, but it immediately toppled over.

One of Rip’s hands went to scratch at his forearm through the material of the coveralls he had on, but his eyes stayed on me. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and even his voice was off as he asked, “They fucked up your things?”