He Deserved It

CHAPTER 30 – The Drive

Silence had weight. And tonight, it felt like it was sitting on Lia’s chest wearing steel-toed boots.

She lay flat on her bed, arms flung out like she was auditioning for a crime scene chalk outline, staring at the ceiling fan doing its lazy spin overhead. The air felt sticky and heavy, like soup nobody asked for. Her sheets were twisted around her legs like clingy ghosts.

Down the hall, the TV murmured something about sauce—some chef screaming, “THIS IS NOT A JOKE, PEOPLE!” Her parents were snoring in perfect rhythm, like they were trying out for a sleep symphony. And somewhere, one of her sisters giggled in her sleep, which was somehow the creepiest thing ever.

It should’ve felt safe.

It didn’t.

Classic.

She kicked off the blankets. Shoved her arms into her hoodie. Snatched her car keys off the nightstand.

Pajama shorts? Still on. Screw it.

She just needed air. Space. Something that didn’t feel like four coral-colored walls pressing in on her like they had a vendetta.

So she grabbed her keys, tiptoed past the snoring orchestra that was her family, and slipped out the front door like a teenage raccoon on a heist.

Arroyo Mesa was dead at 1:17 a.m.

Streetlights hummed overhead like anxious bees. Empty intersections cycled green, yellow, red for absolutely nobody. Palm fronds littered the sidewalks like giant, crunchy confetti. Neon flyers for some bar were slapped all over the bus stop, screaming “Ladies Free Till Midnight!” like the fate of humanity depended on it.

Lia rolled through town with the windows cracked, cool air cutting across her face.

She passed the taquería—dark windows, metal shutters locked up tight. Passed the mural wall that Mila painted. Passed Jordan’s old street—

Nope. She didn’t even glance that way. Not even for half a second.

We’re not doing that tonight. No thanks.

She tried putting on music. Scrolled her playlist. Landed on K-pop. Let it blast for about ten seconds before stabbing the volume button down.

Too loud. Too happy. Too… everything.

The silence felt safer. Even if it sucked.

For a few blocks, she just drove. Let the cool air whip through the window and tried to convince herself this was just a normal, middle-of-the-night crisis run.

But the longer she stayed out, the more the empty streets started feeling… less empty.

She clocked the car after her second left turn.

Headlights in her rearview mirror. Far enough back to pretend it was nothing. Close enough that her stomach started doing weird gymnastics.

She turned right.

So did the car.

Okay. Chill. Coincidences happen. People drive cars. That’s a normal human thing.

She took another left, slower this time, eyes glued to the mirror.

Still there.

Cool. Totally normal vibes at 1:23 in the freaking morning.

She pressed her lips together. Tried to remind herself that Arroyo Mesa was basically three streets and a dream. That people accidentally ended up behind you all the time. That it was probably nothing.

Except her heart clearly hadn’t gotten that memo, because it was thudding loud enough to drown out everything else.

Her palms were slick on the steering wheel, like she’d just washed them in dish soap.

She took another random turn onto a street she didn’t even recognize. A sign she’d never noticed before flashed past her window.

The car followed.

Awesome. Totally fine. It’s only, like, the textbook definition of being stalked.

Her breath hitched. Her skin prickled all over, like every nerve in her body was on red alert.

Okay. Enough of this midnight parade. Time to lose this creep or at least figure out if I’m imagining things.

She spotted an empty turn-off ahead and flicked her blinker on, heart pounding.

She pulled into the empty parking lot near the park. Rows of dark asphalt stretched out under a single flickering light that blinked like it was trying to send her Morse code for Run.

She killed the engine. Sat there, pulse tap-tap-tapping under her skin.

The other car rolled in behind her. Slowed. Then pulled up alongside.

Dark SUV. Tinted windows. Engine humming low, trying to stay casual.

She squinted, trying to make out anything—an outline, a movement, even a shape. Nothing. Just her own wide-eyed reflection staring back at her in the glass.

This didn’t feel like coincidence. This felt like somebody making a choice. And somehow, she was the main character in whatever show they were filming.

They sat there like that for what felt like an entire season of a Netflix show.

Then, as quietly as it had arrived, the SUV eased forward. Slipped out of the lot. Turned left. Vanished into the night like it had better things to do.

Lia finally let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding since prom night. Her chest ached like she’d just run wind sprints in gym class.

Cool. Just another casual Tuesday night panic attack. Love that for me.

She tried to laugh it off, pressed her palms to the steering wheel, and told herself she was fine.

Except… her body apparently hadn’t gotten the memo.

The shaking hit her out of nowhere.

Not sobbing. Just silent, ugly tears slipping down her cheeks, smudging her vision until the dashboard lights turned into a neon blur.

She dropped her forehead against the steering wheel, gripping the leather so hard her fingers ached.

Awesome. This is fine. Just crying alone in a random parking lot at 2 a.m. No big deal. Totally normal Tuesday night activities.

She wasn’t even sure why she was crying. Fear? Anger? Exhaustion? Or maybe all of it knotted together in one giant, glittery emotional hairball.

She tried to start the car again, but her vision was still swimming. So she just sat there, blinking hard, wiping at her cheeks until the world came back into focus enough to drive.

Okay. Deep breaths. You’re not gonna die in a parking lot tonight. That’s not the vibe.

She gripped the wheel, gave herself one more second, and finally shifted into gear.

As she finally pulled out of the lot, Lia couldn’t help glancing down the road where the SUV had disappeared.

There it was. Parked along the side of the road like it was waiting.

For a split second, she thought she saw a faint blue glow inside the dark windows. Like a phone screen lighting up someone’s face. A silhouette. Broad shoulders. Head tilted, like he was listening to secrets only he could hear.

She blinked hard.

It didn’t follow her again.

Perfect. Because what I definitely needed tonight was my own personal horror movie cameo.

She sucked in a shaky breath, shoved the car into gear, and decided she was officially done with parking lots—and mysterious SUVs—for one night.

Lia drove home in silence, fingers locked around the wheel like it might try to escape.

She pulled into her driveway and left the headlights on, blasting the garage door with white light that felt way too harsh for 2 a.m.

She sat there, staring through the windshield, her breath fogging faintly in the cold.

I don’t even know who I’m scared of anymore. Jordan. Or whoever the hell that was in the SUV. It’s not over. And something’s coming. I can feel it.

She dragged in a shaky breath.

Awesome. Just what I always wanted. Existential dread as my late-night passenger.