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MY thoughts were consumed with Kylie the rest of the week. I wished I could have blamed it on our little war. I mean, it was hard not to think about her when I was afraid for my life. Unfortunately, I thought I was catching feelings.
She had shut my electricity off. That was a gutsy move.
Things had only escalated, because to shut my electricity off, you had to be in my laundry room. She broke new territory by entering my house. Since then, I’d placed bang snap fireworks under her toilet seat. She poured vinegar into my filtered water pitcher (that was nasty when I took a big drink of water after a run). I signed her up for all sorts of junk mail that started coming yesterday. I watched with glee as she opened her mailbox and fliers spilled out onto the pavement.
For some reason, I’d been getting invites to all types of direct sales company parties. She wrote “Just Married” on the back of my truck window with some type of marker. I slapped a “Honk if you love tacos” bumper sticker on her car.
It’d been an interesting week. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had this much fun. I also couldn’t remember the last time I’d looked over my shoulder so often.
It was Saturday night, and I was hosting my first barbecue at my new house. A couple friends, along with my younger brother, were coming over to see the new place. I piled the briquets in my barbecue and pulled the hamburger from the freezer. The pineapple was already chopped and on the counter.
I glanced out the window and noticed that the street was full of cars. Karen must have been having a barbecue next door, too. I pulled my keys out of my pocket and headed out to my truck. There would be more parking space on another street, but I didn’t want Alex and Linley to have to walk far since they had the baby with them. Besides, I didn’t mind walking. I glanced up and down the street. I could park on another street...or block Kylie’s driveway.
It was an easy decision to make.
I pulled out of the driveway and parked in front of Kylie’s. Just then, two more cars turned onto our dead-end street. I jumped out of my pickup and motioned for them to park in my driveway.
“Hey!” Alex yelled as he jumped out of his soccer mom van. Linley stepped out of the passenger seat and shushed him.
“Are you trying to wake up the baby?”
Right on cue, a wailing sound filtered out of the car. Their six-month-old baby girl, Mia, had the lungs of an opera singer and the stamina of a marathoner. Linley’s shoulders sagged as she opened the car door and unbuckled the baby from the car seat.
The green smart car that was parked in my driveway shook as Jack climbed out.
“What are you driving, and how did you fit in there?” I asked as I crossed the street.
“It’s Grandma’s. My car’s in the shop again, so Grandma told me I could use her commuter car,” he said with a grin. We laughed because we knew the only place Jack’s grandma commuted to was the local brewery. “She told me I’m lessening my carbon footprint by driving it.”
Jack was roughly the size of a house. If there was a carbon footprint left behind, it was mainly because of him breathing. I didn’t even want to know how he crammed his body into that car.
“Hey, are you going to be in the way of your neighbor right there?” Linley asked as she motioned to where my truck was parked.
“Nah, she’s really friendly.”
“She doesn’t look that friendly,” Jack commented. I whipped my head around and saw that he was right. Kylie was standing on the top of her steps, hands on her hips. She was wearing bright-pink shorts and a black tank top that accentuated her slim waist.
“Why don’t you guys head on inside? I’m warming up the grill, and drinks are in the fridge. I need to go chat with my neighbor for a minute.”
The baby scowled at me over her mom’s shoulder. I frowned back at it for a couple seconds before I walked toward Kylie.
She met me at her garage door. “Move your car.”
“Why don’t you try saying please?”
She clenched her jaw and folded her arms across her chest. “Please, move your car.”
I shoved my hands into my pockets and glanced around, loving the way she clenched her jaw as she spoke. “I don’t think so.”
She took a step toward me as though she could intimidate me into moving it. “I’m not kidding, Hagen. Move it.”
I stepped three feet to the side.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m trying to get to the gym.”
“Oh, is that why you’re wearing something as bright as the sun?”
“Neon pink isn’t that bright.”
“I thought about grabbing my sunglasses before I headed over here.”
“Move the truck.” This time I was pretty sure she was ready to take a swing at me. How far was too far to push your neighbor? I thought I was on the verge of finding out.
“Why don’t you go for a jog? The street’s full; I needed to park somewhere.”
“Why don’t I go for a jog? Because I don’t want to be kidnapped and murdered! Why do you think I go to the gym?”
“Well, you look like you could skip a day at the gym and be just fine.”
She looked surprised at my comment, then she narrowed her eyes again. “You are the worst neighbor in the world. I should have stuffed you in my garbage can before I locked it.”
“You could still try.”
“Don’t tempt me.” She turned to the keypad next to the garage door and punched in her code. 1234. She was very original.
The big door rolled open. She turned and looked at me. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Please move your truck.”
I didn’t want to be a jerk, but I was curious what she would do if I refused. “No. I like having it parked there.”
She gave me a curt nod then marched into her garage and reached for something on top of a shelf.
I could never have imagined my ex-girlfriend acting as immaturely as Kylie and I had been. It just wasn’t her style. My ex’s style was money and social connections, with a side of tyranny. She hadn’t always been like that, but the longer we were together, the more she became obsessed with those things—or more like her true self became more obvious the longer I was with her.
The more I withdrew from her controlling personality, the more obsessed she became with trying to run my life. She believed in cutting remarks. She never would have shut off my electricity. She never would have sprayed me with my own sprinkler. She definitely wouldn’t have threatened to stuff me into a garbage can or poured vinegar in my water pitcher.
Something hard slammed into the center of my chest.
It took my breath away and knocked away any thoughts of my ex-girlfriend. Another hard something hit my left ribs, and then another hit my stomach. Thank goodness for crunches, or that one would have hurt a lot more. I looked down. Three blue paint splatters covered my shirt.
Kylie held a paintball gun aimed at me with a proud smirk on her face.
She shot me.
She shot me three times with a paintball gun. I swiped a hand through the paint, getting it good and covered, and then I advanced. Her eyes widened, and she only had time for one more shot—to my thigh—before I pulled the gun from her hands. With a shriek, she ran out of the garage. I ran after her. I overtook her in five big steps and wrapped an arm around her waist. She screamed loud enough that I was afraid she would break glass.
We’d crossed a new line. We were moving on to physical harm and the laying on of hands.
All bets were off.
“Help me!” she yelled to Alex who had come back outside to get the diaper bag from the car. “He’s trying to kill me.”
She tried to break free from my grasp, but she was small enough that I could easily fit an arm around her waist.
“Hey, brother, you trying to kill your neighbor?” Alex hollered.
“Not today!” I yelled back. I planted my blue hand on her cheek. My hand covered her entire face and ventured into her hair.
I released her and stepped back.
“I can’t believe you wiped paint all over my face.” She furiously scrubbed at her face with her black tank top, but it only smeared the paint even more.
“I can’t believe you just shot me,” I yelled back.
She swung a fist at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. When she started after me, I sprinted across the street.
She yelled after me, “I’m going to shove you in my garbage can, Hagen Raglund!”
I slipped inside my house and headed to my bedroom, planning to grab a fresh shirt, except Linley met me as she came out of the bedroom.
“I hope you don’t mind; I laid the baby down for a nap in your bed.”
“I just need a shirt.”
Linley glared at me. “You can’t go in there—you’ll wake her up!”
With a sigh, I followed Linley into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of pineapple out of the bowl. My own niece had stolen my bed, and I wasn’t allowed in my own bedroom. It looked like I’d be stuck wearing my paint-splattered shirt.
“Whoa! What happened to you?” Jack asked.
Alex butted in. “His neighbor shot him. I went out to grab the diaper bag and saw the whole thing.”
It was hard to hide the grin on my face, so I stuffed another bite of pineapple in my mouth.
“Your neighbor must be crazy,” Jack said.
“You’re probably right about that. With neighbors like that, I’m surprised anyone lives in the suburbs.” I started whistling as I washed my hands then began chopping some veggies to throw on the grill.
“So.” Linley sat down on a bar stool across the island where I was working.
“So.”
“So, do you like her?”
I forced myself not to react. Linley was an incorrigible matchmaker. Now that she and Alex were in the middle of wedded bliss and babies, she thought that everyone else should join them. Not that I was opposed; it was just that I had a little baggage in the relationship department, and it was closer to checked-baggage size than carry-on.
“She’s different.”
Linley pointed at my shirt. “I can see that. She seems fun.”
“She wants to stuff me in her garbage can.”
“Okay, so maybe a touch psychotic, but still fun.”
“She hates me, so there’s no chance she’d ever be interested in something.”
“If that were true, she would ignore you. So, really, being angry at you is better than being indifferent to you.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not ready to date again anyway.”
“Please. You’re way better off without Brooke the B.”
Linley never got along with Brooke, my ex. Since Linley was married to my little brother, Alex, she didn’t want to have to put up with Brooke on a regular basis. She thought Brooke was pretentious and stuck up. She was right.
I thought I was failing Brooke. I thought I couldn’t be enough for her—for anyone. But a few months away from her toxicity gave me clear eyes to see that she didn’t love me like she said. She wanted me to be something I wasn’t. I was finding peace with the fact that I was fine the way God made me. I didn’t need to change. All the contempt she showed me made me begin to think that I wasn’t worthy of anyone.
Now, I was reveling in the fact that she was wrong. She was the one who had shamelessly used me. It took some good friends and a crazy neighbor to help me see that. While I didn’t plan on dating Kylie, I couldn’t help but admit she’d brought a spark of something into my life—something that had been missing.
“Jack’s barbecuing the burgers,” Alex said as he walked into the kitchen.
I dropped the knife and hurried to the back door. Jack burned everything. He thought everything tasted better with a little charcoal on it. I called back into the kitchen as I opened the door. “Bring out that tray of veggies and pineapple.”
“Sure thing,” Alex answered.
I felt like a hostage negotiator as I tried to get Jack away from the barbecue. He finally backed away when I promised he could barbecue his own burger. Finally, Jack went inside to grab some plates, leaving me alone outside.
My phone beeped, and I pulled it from my back pocket. It was Mom texting. I swiped the screen.
Mom: Hi dear. Your father and I are heading out of town tomorrow. We won’t be back until Tuesday.
That meant I didn’t have to go to Sunday family dinner this week. What a relief. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family; I did. I knew they loved me in their own interesting way, but my parents were pro-Brooke and couldn’t understand why we broke things off. It didn’t help that Brooke was still trying to get back together, and she was using my mom to do it.
My mom loved being a grandma. Unfortunately, she only had one grandbaby to shower with love. Alex and Linley were on a marble pedestal in Mom’s eyes because they’d provided Mia. They were like the star children of the family. That baby was going to be a spoiled little thing the way my mom treated her. I guessed that was what grandmas were supposed to do.
It seemed funny that my no-nonsense mother, who raised three boys and put up with zero crap while we were growing up, had already turned her craft room into a playroom for a baby that could barely sit up. Growing up, if one of my brothers or I had set foot in that craft room, we would have been in huge trouble.
My phone beeped again.
Mom: Brooke called me yesterday. We had a nice chat. Why don’t you give her a call? I really think the two of you were good together.
Yet another reason I was grateful to be done with Brooke. Brooke was a manipulator and not the kind of woman who would face me down and shoot me with a paintball gun. She’d much rather stab me in the back by using people close to me.
Me: It’s not happening, Mom. Let it go.
I ignored my mom’s next text in favor of flipping the hamburgers, wishing that Brooke would stop coming between my family and me.