A Lovely Obsession (Debt of Passion Duet Book 1)

by Coralee June

  “I was just looking for something before I told you...” She grunted while pulling her briefcase out from under her desk and flipping open the clasp. “Ah! here it is.” She then handed me a sheet of paper, and I glanced at it. A permission slip?

  “What is this?”

  “Finals are in Dallas. Two other students made it to the next round in other writing categories. I think you'd enjoy Joanna Lovelace's short story submission. It's very poetic. I need your uncle to sign this permission slip and bring it back tomorrow so the school can order a charter bus to take us there.”

  “Wait, so I made it to the next round?” I asked incredulously.

  “Yes, Roe. Believe it or not, you are capable of wonderful things. You've made it to the next round and have glowing comments from the judges. I look forward to hearing you read your poems at finals.”

  I was still processing all of this information. I couldn't believe that this was happening. “Wait, I have to read it? In front of people?”

  “Yes. And with feeling, too. I've already emailed you a list of videos I want you to watch to help prepare.”

  “So I'm in?” I asked once again, in disbelief.

  Mrs. Sellars spun to face me in her little kitten heels, her weathered face fixed into stern compassion. “Yes, Roe. You're in. I'm so proud of you.”

  I wrapped my arms around her frail frame and squeezed her tightly in a hug. I couldn't believe it. I'd made it. I'd actually done something and stuck to it.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sellars. I couldn't have done this without you,” I squealed.

  “Yes, you could have,” she replied while pulling away from me. “Sometimes we just need a little shove is all. And right now I'm going to shove you to your next class because I have papers to grade.”

  I laughed at her bluntness and nodded. “Okay. I'll watch those videos you sent,” I promised while backing out of the classroom.

  I felt myself walking on cloud nine.

  While heading down the hallway, I glanced at my phone, noticing that Hunter had sent me a text. Maybe he was done working and would actually talk to me. I was ecstatic to tell him about the competition and Dallas. I couldn't believe this was actually happening.

  But all the excitement and hope within me deflated the moment I saw his text.

  Hunter: It's not safe to go to Dallas right now.

  I stared at his words, digesting each disappointing part of them. No congratulations. No understanding or encouragement. Just a resounding refusal to let me go. I typed out a million responses, each of them filled with anger and hurt until I realized the best response of all would be silence. I turned off my phone, revoking his access to me with one simple move.

  Now I just had to figure out how to get rid of his control over my life.

  HUNTER

  I’d stared at the photo for two hours, running my rough hand over the image with reverence. I found it on the windshield of my Jeep with a white lily delicately placed beside it. I didn’t understand the significance of the flower, but it was the second time she’d used it to let her intentions be known.

  She will die.

  Those three words were scrawled on the back in dainty handwriting. There was no signature, just a heart drawn around the word die. The ink was a hot pink, which seemed odd for such an ominous threat. But I was learning that nothing Rosemary did was normal. She and I had never officially met, but she was becoming quite the threatening presence in my life.

  The photo was nice, though. It was Roe and I together in her bedroom. She was smiling at me mischievously as I sat in her chair. Whoever took the picture had a telephoto lens and found an opening in the drapes in Roe’s bedroom window. It was a rookie mistake on my part. I should have been more aware, more observant. I was the best of the best. I practically wrote the book on stalking, but I was so preoccupied with Roe that I hadn’t noticed the enemy slipping past our defenses.

  I was hoping the Asphalt Devils were a problem of the past. Rosemary’s need for revenge lost her the faith of her members. And now that Willie and Rodger were dead, the pulse of their gang had hit a dead stop. So many people had died in the Bullets war that no one was willing to fight anymore. It was exactly what Gavriel wanted, but he created a monster in the process. And where Rosemary was terrible at running a gang, she was good at hiding. I hadn’t seen her anywhere. The only intel I had was from an informant that told me about Willie and Rodger. Rosemary was an uncharted variable, and I wasn’t letting Roe out of my sight until Rosemary was taken care of. I was even debating on pulling her from school. Rosemary had nothing to lose. She was desperate, and desperate people did desperate things.

  Mack had left to pick up Roe from school, and I was waiting in his kitchen for them both to arrive. I would have gone to get her myself, but I was worried there were eyes on me. My…infatuation…with Roe was already out there. Rosemary knew that I was connected to Roe. But that didn’t mean I wanted to show her that the threat affected me. Mack picked her up every day from school, and he’d continue to do that. We had to be smart—protect ourselves without appearing weak.

  I needed to learn more about Rosemary. She’d already proven to be bloody, impulsive, and vengeful. I needed to find her weak spot. As of right now, she didn’t appear to have one. She didn’t care who died as long as she got to me, and that was a problem. I needed to find what she cared about and crush it in my fist.

  The front door slammed, and I prepared myself for Roe’s fiery frustration. She’d gone against our deal and turned her phone off when I texted her. It pissed me off to not be able to listen in on her, but I understood her anger. Hell, I was kicking myself for how I handled it. I should have waited. I should have worded things better. I should have congratulated her. Roe was timid when it came to putting herself out there. She never committed herself to anything because her hermit of a mother taught her to fear failure. Failure was the equivalent of death.

  I didn’t mean to make her upset, but I’d gotten Rosemary’s threat and immediately checked her phone to see if she was safe. When I heard Mrs. Sellars say that she was invited to Dallas, my blood turned cold. That would be too dangerous. There was no way I could keep Roe safe. I quickly texted her without thought, but the way she was stomping her feet toward me made me regret how I handled the situation.

  Roe’s caramel hair was wild around her flushed face. She was wearing a brown miniskirt and boots with tights. Her tight, button-up shirt was tied at her bellybutton. Her fist was clenched at her side, and the overall effect of her rage and the outfit she wore was too damn irresistible. I had to focus to keep myself from closing the distance between us and swallowing her anger with a kiss. “I’m going to the contest, Hunter,” she snarled. I licked my lips.

  I bit my cheek to keep from smirking at her. I knew I was in trouble, and this wasn’t a laughing matter, but hell she was hot when she was pissed. Mack disappeared down the hallway, shaking his head. I knew he was probably annoyed that he had to pick up an angry Roe from school. “You’re not going,” I replied simply, my voice like a concrete wall.

  Roe moved closer to me. “I’m fucking eighteen, Hunter. You can’t just keep me here.”

  “I can. And I will.” That was definitely the wrong thing to say, because her scowl deepened.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice choked with emotion. I could practically feel her disappointment. “I don’t get it. Why do I have to suffer because you’re involved in some shady shit? No one has bothered me since the car accident. I thought you took care of it.”

  I crumbled the photograph with Rosemary’s threat in my fist, then shoved it in my pocket, with Roe’s mother’s mental illness heavy on my heart. I wanted her to know how dangerous it was without triggering childhood fears that had been ingrained in her. Her mother was right, this world was a scary fucking place.

  “I’m still working on the situation. You feel safe because I want you to feel that way. You don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes for a reason, Roe. Hell, I came home wi
th a gunshot wound a couple days ago.”

  Tears filled her golden brown eyes, and I could have kicked myself for making her cry. “You sound like her,” Roe cursed while averting her eyes. The long-dead thing in my heart panged. “You tell me how dangerous it is. You act like you have a right to lock me up, tell me it’s for my well-being.”

  Roe started pacing the floors, and I reached out to grab her shoulder. She shrugged my hand off and continued to stomp her feet along the wood floors, spouting off past hurts as she moved. “You know we once went eight months without leaving the house?” she whispered while wrapping her thin arms around herself. “She heard about a car bomb in the city, and she said it wasn’t safe to leave…”

  “Roe,” I began.

  “She unplugged the oven because she was scared I’d crawl in it.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew that I was just a kid with my own problems. It wasn’t until I was older that I could do anything to help Roe, but I still felt like a failure. I was supposed to protect her. There were many times I envied how much her mother cared. Aside from the one time she lost her mind and kicked Roe in the stomach, she was obsessive about watching out for her daughter. I’d never had that, so I thought her protectiveness was normal. Hell, how did I even know what was normal and what wasn’t?

  “Roe. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t genuinely think it wasn’t safe,” I reasoned, keeping my tone soft and compassionate.

  “She’d say that too,” Roe said with tears running down her eyes. “She said she was keeping me inside, away from friends, away from people, because she loved me. Because it was safer. She lost my father and didn’t want to lose me.”

  Those words made my chest constrict. The mention of Roe’s father had me clenching my teeth.

  I reached out for her again, and this time she didn’t push me away. A steady stream of tears were falling down her cheeks now, making her creamy skin slick with pain. I wiped at it with my thumb and pulled her body flush with mine. “Roe. I’m not like your mother,” I promised.

  She scoffed. “Aren’t you, though? You’re obsessed with protecting me. You won’t tell me why or what debt you owe. Once again, I have no say in my life.” Her voice was raw with emotion. She was choking on every syllable.

  I placed my forehead against hers. I felt like shit for doing this to her, but Rosemary’s threats were vivid in my mind. Until I could eliminate all of my enemies, I wouldn’t be risking Roe. I’d come too far to lose her now, and the dynamic of my obsession had changed. Roe was no longer an obligation I was saddled with. She’d become more. She was like the fucking air in my lungs. “I was sad when she died,” Roe whispered against me. I let her go, and she took a step back. “I cried. I mourned her. She was my mom, you know? I was so mad that she spent her life convincing me how terrifying death was, then went and willingly died. Such a hypocrite,” she said while rubbing her eyes.

  I nodded my head in encouragement, pretending to know what it was like to have parents worthy of grief. “But when Mack took me in, I vowed to never hide from life like she did. It’s taken years to break through the toxic walls she built around me. I still can’t handle crowds without thinking of all the ways I could die. I can’t imagine too far in the future because I’ve been trained to think that I won’t survive the year. I’m...naïve,” she choked out. “I’m all or nothing when it comes to people. I run away because life is one big decision between flight or fight.”

  As she spoke, all I could think of was how badly I’d failed. Roe was supposed to have a good life. She was supposed to be loved and healthy and successful. My entire purpose since the day she was born was to pay my debt. Roe was my purpose. She reminded me that I was capable of good things. She taught me that I wasn’t like my parents, that I was able to care for another living being.

  But I’d failed.

  “Roe,” I whispered while reaching for her hand. She pulled out of reach and shook her head. Snot dripped from her red nose, and she wiped at it with the back of her hand as more tears fell down her face.

  “I don’t want to live my life this way, Hunter. And I’m not going to let you turn me back into the little girl scared of the world again. I’ve been working way too fucking hard to escape her.”

  She spun around and headed toward her bedroom. I was helpless to say something comforting or useful. I just stared at her back and wondered how she’d ever be free with me in her life.

  ROE

  I spent most of the next day in an angsty haze. I felt stuck in this never-ending cycle of confusion and discontent with Hunter. Every time a breadcrumb about our past was shared, he took a step further away, creating distance between us with his cruel words and dismissive actions.

  I refused to feel trapped. I knew what it was like to spend my life afraid of the world and controlled by a person convinced they were doing right by me. It would never happen again. I wouldn’t be manipulated by empathy anymore.

  I hated how vulnerable I sounded while spilling my past at his feet, but every word I said was true. My mother loved me very much, but she let that love turn her into a recluse. She let love give her a sense that her actions and decisions were validated. She did the things she did because she honestly felt it was in my best interest, and I refused to let another person’s obsession with keeping me safe and alive ruin all the progress I’d made.

  Sometimes I wondered if my mother loved me or if her illness just made her obsessed with the idea of keeping me alive. Maybe Hunter had the same problems. He was twisted by his ideas of protection. He was dangerous. Though we’d been exploring each other’s souls and bodies, I didn’t feel like a girl capable of claiming Hunter’s heart. I was his redemption, not the love of his life. I just didn’t understand what sins he was working through—or in his words, what debt.

  I felt so angry but also intrigued. There was something about Hunter I couldn’t escape, but I couldn’t let my infatuation trap me here. I wasn’t my mother. I wanted to try new things. I wanted to look toward the future with a smile and hope. I wanted to live.

  And in all of this, I was angry with myself. I was angry that I got wrapped up in the idea of Hunter. I kissed him. I gave my body to him willingly, and I didn’t know if I did it because I craved human contact or if I was falling for my stalker. There was a lot about myself I just didn’t understand, and I wasn’t sure that I’d figure it out unless I put some distance between us or got some answers about our past. I needed to know just how far he'd go to keep me—and why.

  I was sitting on my bed, scrolling through emails from Mrs. Sellars, when a chat notification popped up on my screen.

  Unknown: Do you want to know more about Hunter?

  I stared at the words for a moment, disbelief and dread filling me up. It was like the universe had gifted me with some information, but I couldn't quite trust it. Just because something was wrapped in a pretty bow didn't mean it was safe to open it. I licked my lips and hovered my hands over my keyboard, debating on how to respond. I was almost scared to even acknowledge it.

  Roe: Who is this?

  I watched the chat bubble appear and disappear a few times as if the person talking to me was trying to decide how to answer. I noted their uncertainty while biting my lip. At least they hadn’t planned what to say. Maybe it was a prank. Or Joel.

  Unknown: Not Safe.

  Unknown: He could be watching.

  Unknown: If you want to know about the man stalking you, meet us at 7898 Lawry Street in fifteen minutes.

  I laughed to myself. Though the temptation for more information had me salivating, I wasn't willing to just go meet up with a complete stranger to get it. For all I knew, this was another one of Hunter's tricks. He could be looking for an excuse to test my loyalty, and although I felt no sense of camaraderie toward him at the moment, I wasn't in the mood to push him tonight. I needed to focus on how the hell I was going to get to Dallas.

  Roe: No.

  The chat bubbles became a flurry of activity, disappearing and app
earing in an instant. I watched in amusement while using a pencil to lazily scratch at my skin beneath the cast on my left arm.

  Unknown: Perhaps this will change your mind?

  The sinister undertones in the message had me holding my breath as an image downloaded on the screen. I stared at it in rapt attention, my mouth dropping open in shock the moment I realized what the photo was and who was in it.

  It was my mother. Her stomach was round, plump with a baby in it. She had glossy, pink lips stretched into an inauthentic smile that I recognized immediately. Her hair was auburn, wild and curly. She was sitting on a faded couch, her head tipped back in amusement with beer bottles and needles at her feet. She was glowing but seemed out of place. The rigid set of her spine gave off the impression that she was uncomfortable. In some ways, I didn’t quite recognize her. This photograph seemed to be taken before my father died. Before fear corrupted her mind. Before the idea of death turned her into a hermit.

  But in all of this, the sight of my mother wasn't what made me bristle. It was the little boy with blond hair, sunken in cheeks, and bright blue eyes sitting next to her that had me reeling.

  I knew with the utmost certainty that this was Hunter. Where my mother was light and hope, Hunter looked dark and broken. Even in the blurred photos, I could make out bruises on his arm. His bones stuck out of his shirt, and he looked malnourished.

  This was a photo of my mother and Hunter. But what the fuck did it mean? Another message came through.

  Unknown: I know you want answers. I can give them to you. See you in fifteen minutes, Roe.

  This person definitely had my attention now, but I still wasn’t so easily convinced.