A Fresh Start

by Grace, Trisha

  He fumed over her blatant rejection and refused to answer any of her calls, thinking it would teach her a lesson.

  He had been her sole support over the past two years. He was there whenever she needed him. She couldn’t do anything without him.

  He was certain that the phone calls were calls of repentance, that she had realized what a big mistake she'd made and was calling to beg him to return to her.

  Then the calls stopped, and he heard from his colleagues that she had gone on a holiday.

  He couldn’t believe Paige would pack up and leave for a holiday after what had happened.

  That piece of news was quickly followed by rumors that she had left for good. To make things worse, she left him a letter telling him how sorry she was, how she realized they were better off as friends.

  He was enraged when he saw the letter. He went through it, crushed it, and thrashed it.

  The letter was bullshit. Paige had no idea what she was talking about; only he knew what was the best for her.

  She was nothing without him.

  Cole nodded as he drove back to the hotel in Cheyenne.

  That was what Paige needed.

  Some motivation. Some reminder—just like before.

  Chapter Thirteen

  They weren’t able to have breakfast at the usual time, but when Justin and Paige got back, the breakfast had been reheated, and there was a fresh pot of coffee on the dining table.

  They had breakfast as if nothing happened that morning.

  Justin had always loved the Seymours for their dislike of gossips, but he was impressed with their ability to suppress their curiosity even after such an eventful morning. They sat around the table, discussing the news like every other day.

  Only after breakfast did Mrs. Seymour asked Paige if she was all right and reminded her that their house would always be opened to her.

  Paige had nodded and thanked them before explaining everything. She told them about her stalker, about Cole, and why she decided to leave behind the life she’d built in New York.

  Mr. Seymour’s head bobbed up and down as Paige gave them the recount.

  Throughout the whole conversation, Mr. Seymour’s face held the same stoic expression. Only the intensity of his focus gave away his concern on the situation.

  Mrs. Seymour, however, couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the situation. She didn’t understand why anyone would do that to Paige and how it was possible to be stalking Paige without being found out.

  Paige smiled wryly, stating that she wished she knew.

  Justin took Paige’s hand and shook his head at Mrs. Seymour who immediately understood it was time to cut the questions.

  Before leaving the Seymours’ house, Mrs. Seymour again offered Paige the guest room.

  No words were exchanged as they strolled back toward her house.

  Right between the Seymours and her house, she looked back over her shoulder and onto the street, seemingly making sure that no one was there.

  “You know, the Seymours’ house is pretty near the end of the street. We can probably get those motion sensor alarm and fix it up by one of the trees. That way, the Seymours will know whenever someone turns into the street.”

  “It won’t work in my house?”

  “I’m not sure of the range. I’ll check it out, but Mr. Seymour is the one with the gun.”

  She laughed as she got onto her newly built deck and onto the swinging chair.

  “Are you all right?” Justin asked, settling down next to her. “Andrew mentioned something.”

  “That I was behaving nuts the last time I was home?”

  “He simply said you had problem dealing with the stalking.”

  “You saw the med I was prescribed,” she said.

  “Was that it?” he asked. “I’m not judging. I just want to make sure that you’re all right.”

  “I know.” She smiled at him. “I was really nervous. I didn’t dare to go out, and when I’m home, every creak sounded like someone had broken into the house. My windows were always closed, the curtains always drawn…”

  “Why didn’t you talk to Cole about it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “He was the one who made me see the psychiatrist,” she said. “He entertained my paranoia for a while, then I guess he got tired of it. I don’t blame him. Even I felt I was trapped in a prison. No reason for him to stay in one as well.”

  “That’s how you got the anti-anxiety pills.”

  “Mm-hmm. Cole thought it helped and kept insisting that I continue taking it.” She gave the chair a push and leaned back smiling. “But I didn’t like what it was doing to me, so I basically turned a deaf ear.”

  His lips curled to reflect hers, he loved seeing her smile.

  “I love this chair.” Looking over at him, she said, “Thanks. When did you get it up?”

  “This morning thought you’d be out for your jog. Got it up then went home for a shower.”

  “I was feeling lazy.” She pushed her fingers against her hair, smiling sheepishly.

  “It’s okay to be lazy. You’ve been hardworking your whole life. I’m sure you’ve earned the rights to be lazy every once in a while.”

  She laughed softly.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  She nodded.

  “Why did you seem so worried when I volunteered to stay over at your house?”

  She chewed on her lower lip for a moment before releasing it. “It’s nothing.”

  He’d told himself that he shouldn’t pressure her for an answer, but he couldn’t stop mulling over it in his head. His conclusion—the sight of Cole brought back her paranoia and she didn’t want to be alone with anyone.

  But she didn’t seem frightened of him.

  He studied her reaction. She wasn’t playing with her ring or clutching her arms. Instead, she appeared nervous.

  That new revelation didn’t bring him any closer to an answer. She clearly didn’t have a problem turning Cole down, so that couldn’t be the issue.

  Her soft laughter took his mind off his train of thoughts.

  “Still thinking about it?”

  He grinned and shrugged.

  “It’s nothing serious. I’ve never had a guy stayed over at my house before. I’m not too sure what I think about that.”

  He frowned slightly and asked, “Cole?”

  “We don’t stay together.”

  “He never stayed over? So you stayed over at his place?”

  She rolled her eye, shaking her head. “No. There’s no staying over. The end.”

  “Huh.”

  She gave the chair another push. “Will you be offended if I choose to stay with the Seymours?”

  “Will you change your mind if I said yes?”

  “No. But it’ll change how I think about you.”

  Justin nodded as his grin grew wider. Growing up with an overprotective brother did have its benefits. “No, I won’t be offended. And it isn’t because of what you said,” he clarified.

  “I know, and I was thinking. I can bring my air-mattress over and you can stay over there.”

  “You don’t want me to stay over here, but you’re okay with me staying over in the same house as you over there?” He pointed to the Seymours.

  “Well, like you said, he’s the one with the gun.”

  Justin laughed. Somehow, Paige never failed to surprise him. “Well, lucky for you, I don’t mind the slight difference in location. But, I doubt the air-mattress will fit in the house. I’ll just crash on the couch.”

  “I can sleep on the couch. I’m shorter, I’ll fit.”

  “You’re not sleeping on the couch.” He quickly continued when he saw the retort she had hanging by the tongue. “Sleeping on the couch means you’re on the first floor; kind of making the whole point of keeping you safe by staying over at the Seymours redundant.”

  She pinched her lips together, nodding. “Okay.”

  “Do you want to pack some things to bring over?”
>
  “Yeah,” she mumbled.

  “Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe Cole will go home and life here will be quiet as usual.”

  “And if the stalker turns up?” she asked. “I don’t want to go through that again; I don’t think I can. Feeling afraid, looking over my shoulders, being suspicious of everyone smiling or looking at me.” She took her index finger in her hand and twisted her ring around it.

  “Okay.” He took her hand. “Let’s play it out,” he said. “Say it happens again, what’s the worst that can happen?”

  Paige’s brows drew closer. “I kill myself so I don’t have to go through everything again?” she said sarcastically.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “Humor me. If things go bad and you start getting the photos and the letters. Besides having to worry about looking over your shoulders, what are you afraid of?”

  “That he’ll get me. He’ll hurt me, kill me. I’m afraid he’ll sneak into my house in the middle of the night and grab me. I don’t know. There are so many things that can happen.”

  “You’re not alone at night. Mr. and Mrs. Seymour are right next to your room, I’ll be downstairs, so all you have to do is scream. Mr. Seymour loves his gun, he has a couple in his room. During the day, I’ll be with you. I can accompany you for as long as you need.”

  Her lips curled into a smile. “Thanks, I appreciate that.”

  “But…”

  “But I don’t want to become overly reliant on you. I don’t want us to become how Cole and I were.”

  “You and Cole got together because of this. We didn’t.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to be able to do things only when you’re around.” She sighed softly. “And I don’t want you to have to accompany me just to make sure I don’t break down.”

  “I don’t want that, too. I want to spend time with you, but I want you to enjoy yourself, not because you need me to be a guard against your stalker. I’m not going to let him hurt you, I’m not going to let him trap you in your own house either.”

  “You sound like a man with a plan.”

  He grinned. He did have a plan. It wasn’t ironclad, but it’d help ease some of her concerns. “First off, I don’t think you want to abandon your newly renovated home, which I’ve done a fantastic job on, and stay with the Seymours forever?”

  She laughed softly and leaned over on his shoulder. “Mm-hmm.”

  “We can add some grills to your windows and doors. They’re easy to install, and you can slide it to the side when you want to look out, then lock them at night. That way, you don’t have to worry about someone breaking in and it won’t seem like you’re living in a prison.”

  “I’d like that,” she said with a smile.

  “You already have an alarm, so we don’t have to worry about that.” He stood and stretched his hand out for Paige. Pulling her up along with him, he led her into the house and toward the kitchen. “If I’m your stalker, the closest place to your house where I can hide will be the woods,” he said, pointing out of her kitchen window. “We can’t install motion floodlights. There are too many things that can trigger it, but we can get curtains to keep the windows on this side of the house drawn.”

  One of her shoulders inched up. “I don’t care much for the forest scene anyway.”

  “Good. Next, when you leave your house, always leave by the front door. The space out front is open and there isn’t anywhere to hide. It’ll be obvious to the Seymours if someone walks or drives by. I’ll get the sensor and place it at the beginning of the street. We’ll test out the range and see if we can place it in your house.”

  “All that sounds good, but it’s still going to keep me in the house.”

  “The leaving-house part will come tomorrow.”

  Paige arched a brow, waiting for him to continue.

  “You’ll know tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” he affirmed. “There is one thing I’m concerned about. Your jogging.”

  “I love running.”

  “But you get so focused when you’re running. Your earphones are in, your eyes are concentrating on the road ahead, and I think you forget about the rest of the world.”

  “Which is why I love running.”

  “Which is why I’m worried. You didn’t even realize I was running after you until I got right beside you.”

  “I was concentrating on my audio book.”

  “You’re reading even as you’re jogging?”

  “Technically, I’m not reading.”

  Justin laughed and nodded, raising his arms up by his chest. “You know what, these are just preemptive moves. I thought if we have a plan, maybe you won’t be so frightened. But it may not even matter; Cole may be on his way home right now.”

  “It does make me feel better. Thanks,” she said and leaned into his arms.

  “I do have another idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

  “What?” she asked, looking up from his chest.

  “Let’s play a game—a whodunit game.”

  Paige sighed and stepped out of his arms. “It could be anyone. I’ve read up a lot on stalkers. It could be someone I smiled to on the subway. It could be the guy who makes my coffee, it could be the guy I knocked into at the coffeehouse.”

  Justin nodded. “It could also be someone you know. You said that if the person had showed up in front of you, that at least you’ll know who he is. We may not be able to figure out exactly who, but we’ll know what kind of person you should be looking out for.”

  So far, Paige hadn’t said no to anything he had insisted upon, but this time, he could see the hesitation in her eyes as she turned from him and walked back to the living room.

  “You know in thrillers with psycho killers,” he continued. “Don’t the killers always look less intimidating when their masks come off?”

  Paige sat and looked up at him from the couch, waiting for him to make his point.

  “I think that’s because without the mask, the killer is just another human being. We can always take on another human being when fear isn’t running wild in our minds.” He settled beside her and took her hand. “I don’t want you to be afraid. Let’s try peeling off the mask.”

  She stared right into his eyes, not saying anything.

  Her eyes seemed to be searching his, but he didn’t know what she was looking for.

  Then she finally nodded; slowly, but firmly. “Let’s try.”

  Paige headed up the stairs and retrieved the box she’d pushed into the back of her cabinets, covered by all the sheets she’d stacked up in front of it. She hadn’t opened the box since that night she’d shown its contents to Justin.

  Tugging it under her arms, she closed the door to her wardrobe and returned to the living room.

  “Here you go.” She placed the box onto the table. “How do you want to begin?”

  “Pen and paper.”

  She went back upstairs, grabbed her pencil case and a few pieces of paper before heading back down. She sat, cross-legged, on the floor and took out all her colored pens, arranging them neatly in a row, starting from the lightest to the darkest color. “I love taking notes,” she said when she noticed him staring at her pens.

  “And you need three shades of orange, green, blue, pink—”

  “This is red. I have two shades of pink.”

  “Right, that changes everything,” he said as a corner of his lips sneaked up.

  Wasn’t men supposed to be unobservant? Why did she have to meet the one person who noticed all her eccentricities?

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you want to do this?”

  He reached for the box and pulled it closer toward him. “He bought you flowers regularly, so he probably has a job.”

  “Or he’s rich; inherited it or has a business.” She wrote the word ‘stalker’ in the middle of the white paper and branched out with the word ‘flowers’, then further expanded it with ‘has money’.

  Justin pulled off the
lid of the box and took out the stacks of letters. “What else?”

  “He can spell, so he’s literate?”

  “Come on, you can do better than that.” He took a letter off the top of the stack. “This paper, doesn’t seem like those you buy in stacks for office use. The color and material of the letter and envelope is the same, so he bought this specifically for you. Again, he’s got some money, and he pays attentions to details.”

  Then he reached for the photos. “Many of the photos were taken in public. So he either blends easily into the crowd or he’s wearing pinhole camera. It seemed to be taken on the same level as you are, so same conclusion or he took the photos in a car.”

  “There are photos of me in the subway, never of me in a taxi. So I don’t think they’re taken from a car.”

  “Ok. It’s a dead end if he’s just normal, but if it’s a pinhole camera, he’ll need to know his technology.”

  “True, but there’s google and youtube. Anyone can learn anything now.” Though she said that, she still wrote down the characteristics Justin came up with.

  Justin flipped through the photos, going through each and every one of them. “Your life is pretty routined.”

  Suddenly, Paige was self-conscious. The photographs catalogued her boring life over the past three years. She didn’t mind letting him into her life, but the photos displayed everything.

  “Yes, I have a pretty boring life. Jog, work, home. I’ve never liked partying and all.”

  “Soup kitchen?” Justin waved one of the photos in his hand.

  “I go there whenever I don’t have night classes.”

  He flipped over the photos and continued going through them. “And that will be Mondays and Tuesdays.”

  “Yeah.” She stretched over and pulled the photos from his hand.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, it’s…it feels weird having someone go through my life like this.”

  “You give it a go, then. ”

  “If he’s working, his job must have flexible timings, or have plenty of breaks and freedom.”

  “In order to keep up with yours,” he agreed. “But there are no photos when you’re at work, none inside your class.”

  “Yeah. That would’ve narrowed the suspects significantly.” She searched through the photos and placed it on the table. “But there’s this; I went out for lunch during my break that day, had a craving for cupcakes so I walked out several blocks to queue for them.”