Whetting your appetite–you’re going to want more . . .
Eric stood close beside her. His outstretched arms were alongside hers—reaching, steadying her. Sam could feel him; if not physically, then his presence. She knew he was there.
He whispered in her ear, “He’ll be here any second. Just relax. Breathe.”
Charlie? That’s right, Charlie was coming. She made lasagna. Eric would be here, too.
No one made her feel the way Eric did. God, he knew how to make her feel good. He knew her body like no one else.
If she could just think.
Sam struggled for clarity. A bead of sweat trickled down her back between her shoulder blades. She was trembling.
She turned so she could look into Eric’s eyes.
“I have to be with you; this is for us. You will set me free,” he said.
She heard the front door open, then the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. The door swung open and Charlie was there, smiling his lopsided grin.
“Hey babe . . .” The sparkle left his eyes, replaced by confusion as his mind registered the gun in her hands.
Sam blinked and looked at Charlie. This was Charlie, her Charlie . . . her rock, right? Her friend Park Ranger said so. Park Ranger said to trust Charlie. She started to laugh at that. Maybe she should check with Pizza Boy? Her laughter bubbled up. She felt her mind slipping . . . sideways. She pointed the gun, took aim at her husband . . . and pulled the trigger.