Ryan came downstairs.
“This has gotten completely out of control.”
I stared at him.
“No. I think I’m finally seeing exactly how controlled it was.”
He reached toward his phone.
Claire stepped between us.
“Unlock it.”
Ryan laughed.
“You too?”
“Unlock it.”
“This is my private phone.”
Claire stared at him.
“That’s an interesting concern to suddenly have.”
He glared at her.
I called the police.
Ryan’s confidence vanished.
He clearly hadn’t believed I would actually do it.
I watched the realization spread across his face as I gave the dispatcher our address.
“Vanessa, hang up.”
“No.”
“You’re going to destroy our lives over this.”
“Our lives?”
I almost screamed.
“You filmed me.”
“I never hurt you.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
His grandfather sank into a kitchen chair and buried his face in his hands.
Ryan paced.
First he apologized.
Then he explained.
Then he blamed me for overreacting.
It was almost fascinating how quickly he cycled through different versions of himself.
“I thought you’d think it was sexy.”
Then:
“I was going to tell you.”
Then:
“I only watched them myself.”
Then:
“Grandpa has seen maybe two.”
Then:
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