by Jenna Mills
I was securing the locks behind me when Kent stiff-armed the door.
Chapter 5
“You need to calm down, little girl.”
Everything started to spin. My mind raced. He was at least a foot taller than me, wiry but in the way of a starved junkyard dog.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” I seethed, sliding a hand into my purse.
He knocked it away.
I lunged for it, but he blocked me. “You don’t think I know what you’re trying to do?” Reaching down, he grabbed my purse and dangled it away from me. “Call your little cop boyfriend and have him come running to your rescue?”
Not again, was all I could think. Not again. “This is my house,” I reminded. And I had other means of protecting myself, if it came down to it.
“Your mama’s house,” he corrected. “But you forget that, don’t you? You’re too busy huffing around like you’re some misunderstood princess and the world owes you something. That your mama owes you something. But guess what, sweet darling? You’re not a princess—and you don’t get to play victim every time you want something.”
I just stared at him.
“If you’d get off your high horse and loosen up, have a little fun like your mama does…you might realize how much you’ve been missing.”
He was drunk, maybe stoned. Probably both. But that didn’t excuse him. It made him more dangerous. I knew that.
“Give me back my purse,” I said with a calm I didn’t come close to feeling.
He smiled…but it was more like a leer. “You want it? Maybe you should come and get it.”
I was only going to have one chance. I knew that, too. So I made it count. Eyes locked on his, I smiled sweetly and approached him, pretending to reach for my purse—instead I kicked him as hard as I could in the groin.
He doubled over, dropping to his knees as my purse fell to the floor.
I grabbed it and ran through the house that was no longer my home, out to the carport, the street, down the block to where my car waited. I slid inside and jammed in the keys, revved the engine and threw the gear into drive. I never looked back, never slowed, had no idea where I was going, not until I reached Emily’s street. Only when I swerved into her driveway did I stop. Only then did I allow the tears to flow.
I don’t know how long I sat there before reaching for my phone. My hands shook. My whole body shook. I was tired and cold and wanted nothing more than a blanket and a pillow.
Blinking my eyes to clear them, I stared at the screen a long time before stabbing out the number—and five words.
I want to let go.
I waited. Seconds rolled into minutes. Minutes piled up on top of each other to press down on me. I sat there in the silence, waiting. Trying to breathe. Lights blazed from the windows of my friend’s big beautiful fairytale house, with its wide front porch and second floor balconies. All I had to do was get out of the car and knock on the door. Emily was inside—but Josh was there, too. His blue Jeep sat in the street. But I knew she’d let me in. She’d let me shower and stay the night.
But I stayed in my car, waiting.
Maybe I had the number wrong…
The vibration ricocheted through me. Catching my breath, I looked down, and saw the glow of the words against my screen.
Just say the word, and I’m there.
I can be at your place in ten minutes.
Salty warmth stung my eyes. Relief flooded me. Just the glow of the words, sterile words against the screen, and I could hear the steady cadence of his voice.
And it stunned me how badly I wanted to see him, the dark blond sweep of his hair, the green glitter of his eyes, his smile, this guy I hadn’t even known existed thirty-six hours before.
The guy I’d told to go away only that morning.
The guy who’d tried again anyway, who’d reached out, and put the ball in my court.
I’d let the wind take the note, but the number had stayed with me. I’d always had that freaky ability. See something once, remember forever. But if this time I’d been wrong, even by one digit…
Throat tightening, I stared at my phone a long time before answering.
I’m not home.
His response zipped back in.
It’s late. Everything okay?
I glanced at the clock. Somehow it was almost eleven.
Yes.
Again, his response was quick.
When?
I had to work in the morning.
Tomorrow. At Chautauqua. 5 o’clock.
The day dragged. I told myself not to watch the clock. I told myself to focus on the endless flow of customers in the coffee shop. I even made myself power off my phone, so I wouldn’t be tempted to check it every five minutes.
But it was hard drawing butterflies and hearts in latte foam, when all I could think about was seeing Austin.
When my shift finally ended, I slipped into the bathroom and out of my uniform of black pants and simple white t-shirt. At some point I’d have to retrieve my clothes and other belongings from the house, but for now Emily had loaned me a pair of super cute denim crops (that probably cost more than I made in a week) and a white t-shirt.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked, eyeing me from the corner by the air hand-dryer.
I pulled a brush from my bag and dragged it through my hair, trying to smooth out eight hours worth of tangles. “If I’d known you were going to freak out, I wouldn’t have said anything.”
She chewed on the inside of her lip. “Maybe Josh and I should go with you,” she said. “You know…just in case.”
I reached for the small bottle of silkening balm, trying to smooth away the frizz.
“We’d leave you alone—your guy wouldn’t even have to know. But we’d be there in case—”
I stilled, waiting for her to finish. When she didn’t, through the reflection in the mirror, I lifted my eyes to hers. “In case what? I’m completely wrong about him, and he’s really some crazy stalker?”
“I didn’t say that,” she defended. “But you really don’t know anything about him, other than that he just started showing up.”
Technically, that was true. But I didn’t care. “The park,” I said. “We’re going to the park—not to go have hot sex all night long.”
Her eyes flared.
“But even if we were—”
I let that dangle, loving the shock value of it.
I don’t think Emily loved it anywhere near as much.
“Em, I get what you’re saying, but I can’t keep hiding behind locked doors,” I said, reaching for my eye-shadow palette. Normally I didn’t wear much, but I swept a light dusting of bronze along my upper lids. “Dr. Rivers is right—that’s not living.”
Long brown hair swept against her face as she stepped forward. “Just be careful, okay?”
I heard the concern in her voice, and I got it. I did. If I were her, I would have felt the same way. And yet, I was done letting fear and caution rule my life.
To put her at ease, I grinned. “I’ll text you every fifteen minutes.”
She laughed. She’d been phenomenal since I showed up on her porch the night before, inviting me in but not asking too many questions. Her parents had been pretty super, too, telling me I could stay as long as I needed. Of course, the truth was, no one needed to ask questions, because they knew. They knew about my mom. They’d been after me to move out for a long time.
“What about L.T?” she asked.
I dropped my makeup back into my bag and slid it over my shoulder. “I haven’t talked to him today.”
Her expression said it all. She knew that meant I hadn’t said anything to him about seeing Austin.
“And you’re not going to either,” I said, reaching for the door and pulling it open.
Because he wouldn’t like it. Trust wasn’t his thing.
Emily followed me into the narrow hallway—and straight into Lexi. She stood there, all decked out in micro black shorts and a lace
tube top, her heels high and her hair long and flowing around her perfectly made-up face.
“Looks like someone was doing a whole lot more than going to the bathroom,” she said, making no secret of the way she looked me up and down. “Hot date?”
She was one of the few people I’d ever met who could make me want to smack her every single time she opened her mouth. I told myself I should feel sorry for her. I told myself everything she said and did was just an act for attention. I told myself that underneath all that crap was a sad, lonely, desperate person—but then she’d open her mouth again and drown out everything I’d just told myself.
“It’s all yours,” I said, gesturing to the open door.
She cut her eyes as she smiled, making no effort to move and unblock my path. “I wasn’t waiting for the bathroom.”
Emily swept up beside me. There’d been a time when Lexi came in almost every day, simply for the pleasure of having me and Emily wait on her, I was convinced. But ever since the game she’d played with Emily, she’d been laying low.
The fact she was here now sent all kinds of alarms ringing.
Alexis Queen Bee Abbott never did anything without an ulterior motive.
“Sorry you wasted your time, but trash goes in the back corner,” Emily shocked me by saying. “I can show you exactly where to go, if you like…”
Lexi just smiled even sugarier. “You would know, wouldn’t you? But actually…it’s Zo-Zo that I need.”
Impatiently I glanced at my phone, forgetting that I’d not yet powered it back on.
“Four thirty-two,” Emily said.
And I had a good five minute walk to my car. “Look, I was on my way out. I gotta go—” I said, pushing past Lexi.
She caught me by the arm. “I only need a second.”
I froze, looking from her perfectly French-manicured fingers curled around my wrist, to her evilly-beautiful face.
“Don’t look so put out,” she said. “I mean, if you were normal like everyone else and gave out your phone number or had social media, I wouldn’t have had to come hunt you down.”
Hunt. You. Down.
The words crawled through me.
I’d done social media. And I used to have a number that everyone knew. But that was like inviting the world—and their opinions and remarks and unending judgment—into every corner of my life. “What do you want, Lexi?”
“L.T.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it, I just did. She wanted L.T. Cooper like I wanted to jump into a volcano. She’d made that more than clear.
“Really?” She hated him, everything about him. He’d been there when she was found in the bathtub—and saw her for exactly who she was. “What do you want him for…to throw darts at?”
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for her expression to turn dead serious. “No, I just…” She looked away, toward the brightly colored art display of a local artist, for several seconds before finishing. “I wanted to ask him about something.”
About a thousand questions jumped through me—What? Whether he took pictures of you when you were sprawled naked on the bathroom floor? If he liked what he saw? If he touched you…?—but I resisted. No matter how tempting, I didn’t have time to get distracted.
“Call the department,” I said. “They can put you in touch.”
“But you have his number, right? His personal number.”
I let out a slow breath, and nodded.
“That’s what I want.”
Maybe I should have been more compassionate. With anyone else, the urgency in her voice would have gotten me. But this was Lexi, or, as I liked to call her: Lexi the Wicked. Games were all she knew. And anyway. The clock was ticking. “I can’t give that to you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s personal.” And the last thing L.T. needed was to become the subject of Lexi’s games—or her harassment. Revenge?
“But you have it,” she persisted.
I edged closer to the door. “Look, I gotta go—”
“Ask him,” she said, and for a heartbeat there, I would have sworn she sounded…desperate. Game, I knew. Game. She was the master. “Ask him if you can give it to me—or give him mine and ask him to call me.”
A really strange, uncomfortable feeling slipped through me. The questions from before—the ones I didn’t have time to indulge—scraped closer, harder.
“Okay, whatever,” I said, then with one last she’s-ridiculous look at Emily, I turned and hurried from the coffee shop.
I watched him. I watched him standing knee-deep in waving yellow flowers. I watched the way the grassy meadow danced around him, while behind him the Flatirons jutted up against the blue, blue sky. I watched him as he’d watched me only a few days before, while the breath of late afternoon whispered against me.
Quietly, I lifted my camera.
He stood with his back to me, staring toward the well-worn trail from the parking area—a trail I’d purposefully avoided. He was dressed the same as before, baggy cargo shorts and a slim-fit t-shirt, a light rust color this time.
It stunned me how badly I wanted to see his face.
Zooming in, I took in his shoulders, wide but not bulky, then angled down along his back to his legs. They were lean like the rest of him, muscled but not in the way of a football player. A cyclist, I guessed. Maybe a rock climber. Maybe both.
I’d taken countless pictures of little kids in meadow flowers, but this was different. This wasn’t a cute little boy. This was Austin, and the sight of his athletic body against the yellow blooms stopped me cold.
Or maybe I was simply stalling.
I stole several shots, drawn by his unnatural stillness, as if he stood frozen while the world whispered around him. But then he moved, squatting to reach into the grass…and coming up with a handful of lupine. Zooming in, I found his hand, the way his fingers curled around the thin green stalks, with the bright white against the blue of the sky.
He turned without warning, but even if I’d known the moment was about to unlock, unravel, I’m not sure what I would have done differently. With the camera to my face, I watched him turn toward the edge of the clearing, where I stood among the pine.
He saw me. There was no way he couldn’t—I wasn’t hiding—I stood in a bright glimmer of sunlight directly in front of the trees. But it was more than that. It was the ripple that went through me, a soft, warm caress, as if someone had lifted a hand and touched me.
As if he had.
But he made no move to come toward me. He just stood there, watching me across the tall, waving grass, exactly as I watched him. My move, I realized. He’d made the first every other time. Today, he was giving that to me.
But I didn’t take it. I didn’t step toward him. Because he’d finally given me something else, too—his face. I zoomed in tighter, the late afternoon providing the perfect backlighting. The dark gold of his hair looked copper, cutting in a sharp line against his wide cheekbones, his deep-set eyes glinting with what I knew would be green fire. A touch of Native American, I thought, studying the strong, angular features, softened by what I guessed was some Scots or Irish—
I laughed at myself, at how much I’d learned during those long ago walks with my grandfather.
Then my lens found his mouth, the thin top lip and fuller bottom lip, slightly parted—and I wasn’t laughing at all.
Slowly I lowered the camera, and started walking. And wished I’d chosen somewhere else. Anywhere else. Anywhere other than a sun-drenched meadow that looked ripped straight from some epic movie…
By the time I reached him, I felt absolutely ridiculous.
“Hey,” I said.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Hey.”
I had no idea what to say. My heart was beating crazy fast, my mouth stupid dry. My palms were sweaty. You’d think I’d never walked up to a guy before—
But this wasn’t just a guy.
And I wasn’t merely walking up to him.
/> I’d reached out—reached for—him.
And he was here. Waiting.
For me.
“Get anything you like?”
The wind swirled harder out in the middle of the meadow, away from the trees, whipping my hair into a frenzy. Swiping it back behind my ears, I gazed up at him, not understanding what he meant.
“With your camera,” he clarified, and the breath scraped the back of my throat like sandpaper.
“Oh!” I said without thinking—but then I did think and realized exactly what I’d said, that I’d gotten something that I liked: shots of him. “Impossible not to out here,” I scrambled to recover.
His grin was quick, knowing.
And I couldn’t help but grin right back at him.
And for that one moment, it was all so amazingly easy.
But then everything changed, like a cloud eclipsing the sun—even though there were no clouds, only the endless dome of blue.
“You okay?” he asked.
The urge to look away was strong, but I didn’t let myself—knew he wouldn’t let me if I tried. And that it didn’t matter, because he’d already seen. He already knew.
“Yeah.”
He reached out, gently capturing the flyaway strands of blond slapping my face. “What if I said I don’t believe you?”
Mistake, some little voice inside me warned. Calling him—coming here—it was all a mistake…
“Something happened, didn’t it? Something changed. That’s why you texted me.”
I thought about lying. I thought about making something up and pretending everything was perfectly fine.
