Anyone but Him

by Cassie Graham

  Leaves and dirt crunch under our feet and the sky begins to rain. We’re getting closer to the boat, but we still have at least a half-mile left and I feel Jennings growing more and more uneasy. It’s not long before we’re trudging through thick mud and my ballet flat gets stuck. Only, I don’t realize it in time and as the shoe comes off, my foot lands in the sticky, sludgy mud—sans my shoe.

  “Well, shit,” I curse, stopping Jennings. Standing on one foot like a flamingo, Jennings spots my shoe and picks it up for me. Unfortunately for me, the shoe itself is now the home to a crapload of mud.

  His concerned look evaporates and he smiles. “This really shouldn’t make me laugh, but it does.” He cackles, holding his stomach. “So fucking much.”

  I teeter on my one leg and level my eyes, trying to hold in my amusement.

  “Come on, Pretty Girl,” he grunts when he picks me up, cradling me to his chest. “It’s not too far.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and lay my head on his shoulder. I’m drenched and I probably look like a drowned rat, oh, and not to mention, my life is apparently in danger, but in Jennings arms, I don’t feel so nervous.

  When we reach the boat, Collins is waiting for us in the Pilot House, ready to make a quick getaway. Thankfully no one followed us from the restaurant, but I have a sneaking suspicion that is because of the brute we left behind.

  Jennings takes us straight to the game room where he sets me on the couch and leaves me to go to the bathroom.

  Tension is still incredibly high, and once the moment with my shoe passed, Jennings is all business again.

  I let my head fall back onto the couch and listen to the faucet turn on. I still haven’t asked about what the debacle back at the restaurant was about because frankly, I don’t know if I want to know. It’s obvious this person is someone Jennings knows or at least has been in contact with. It’s also evident that she’s a bit deranged. Jennings is fairly laid back for someone who has fans stalking him on a constant basis, so for him to worry about my life, I’d say whatever is going on is serious. And, if I can decipher all of that from just the bit I know from Jennings, I don’t think I want to know the whole enchilada.

  The faucet turns off and Jennings exits the bathroom. He sets my ballet flat on the coffee table, the mud gone, then kisses my forehead and leaves me alone in the room. He attempts to give me a smile, but it falls flat. He’s troubled and even his years of acting can’t hide it.

  So, I sit and I wait.

  I’m told to stay outside while Jennings and Stewart comb through the house to make sure it’s clean. Clean of what? The woman? Is she an Olympic swimmer and got here before the boat? I have no idea. But as Collins keeps an eye out to the darkness around us, I peek in the windows. There’s nothing.

  “Is this necessary?” I wonder out loud, not really asking because obviously it is, but I don’t understand.

  “Very,” Collins answers.

  I don’t turn to him because I have no idea what to say.

  Jennings eventually appears in the doorway, looking better. “Come on, Whit.” He grabs my hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

  I wave to Collins and as I walk into the door, Stewart stops me. “I’d like to talk to Whitley, if that’s okay?” he says to Jennings.

  Jennings appears hesitant, but he lets go of my hand and walks to the bedroom.

  “I’m sorry about tonight,” Stewart starts. “This is entirely my fault.”

  I sit down on the chair closest to me. “Honestly? I have no idea what’s happening. But, for what it’s worth, I don’t think Jennings blames you.”

  He takes a seat next to me, and claps his fingers together. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  I cut my eyes to the bedroom; Jennings doesn’t seem to be in sight. “Stewart, Jennings thinks very highly of you.”

  He looks down and fiddles his thumbs and when he looks back at me, his eyes shine with pride. “He’s like a son to me, you know?” I nod my head. “I’d never do anything to put him in harm’s way. She just seems incredibly stealthy.”

  “She?” I prompt.

  He clears his throat. “Not my story to tell, little lady. Anyway, I just wanted to apologize. I’m afraid we are going to have to cut your vacation short and leave in the morning.”

  “No need to apologize.” I smile. “Comes with the territory.”

  “You’re good for him,” he states.

  I look down.

  “Alright, this old man is going to shut up. Have a good night, Whitley.”

  I laugh, catching his gaze. “You too, Stewart.”

  I follow Stewart out and lock the door behind him. With everything that’s happening, I don’t think it’s prudent for us to sleep with the doors open. Air conditioning isn’t very common, but Jennings built one onto the house and we are using it tonight.

  I go through the entire house, checking the doors and windows, making sure they are locked. I realize this is probably what Jennings and Stewart did earlier, but I think I need to do it to put my mind at ease.

  Jennings is in bed, only in his boxer briefs when I enter the bedroom. He’s got his dark black-rimmed glasses on and he’s reading a book. His arm is folded behind his head and he doesn’t hear me come into the room.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  He closes the book and looks at me. The clarity that was in his eyes isn’t there anymore and he seems a bit—sad. “Hi, Pretty Girl.”

  I pull my dress over my head and turn the light switch off. Walking to Jennings’ side of the bed, I turn his lamp on and sit next to him on the bed. “What happened?” I ask, cautiously.

  He releases a lungful of air. “Someone from my past is back.”

  “Like an ex-girlfriend?”

  His hand trails up and down the outside of my thigh. “No, a fan.”

  “She, what? You knew her?”

  He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, under his glasses. “Not really. But, her obsession became menacing.”

  “How?”

  He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Let’s not do this tonight. Just, come to bed and let me hold you.”

  I get up and move to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheets back and get in. Jennings wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck. I maneuver my hand around his body and clutch him.

  “Just be with me. Just let me hold you,” he whispers.

  Moments later, his breathing becomes long and even, but I can’t fall asleep. I sit and listen to his little noises for hours before I’m able to drift off.

  It has to be the early morning when something wakes me. A noise of some sort. It’s still dark and as I open my eyes, and I can’t make anything out. I blink hastily, trying to focus. A light from the living room finally comes into view and something moves in hallway. I sit straight up. The silhouette of a woman stands in the doorway and when she realizes I can see her, she turns and runs to the living room. I jolt out of the bed and run after her. I’m not equipped to fight her, but I will if I need to. The woman moves out of the front door, swiftly and runs outside.

  “Jennings!” I scream, running barefoot out into the front yard.

  I sprint up and down the porch, but see nothing.

  “What? What happened?” Jennings yells, eyes wide in worry. “Are you hurt?” He catches up to me and stops in front of me, but I don’t really see him. My eyes scan back and forth through the darkness.

  He takes my face in his hands and forces me to look at him. “Whitley. What just happened?”

  My erratic breathing hasn’t slowed and I use all of my strength to focus on his eyes. “She was here.”

  He lets go of me, like my words sent him a jolt of lightning. “Who?” he asks, slowly.

  “She!” I shriek. “The woman. She was in the house, Jennings. She was standing in the doorway, looking at us.”

  He grits his teeth and his jaw twitches. “No. That isn’t possible.”

  I pull back from him. “Jennings, I just chased her out of
the door! She was here.”

  He takes hold of my arm and drags me back inside the house. He locks the deadbolt and stomps to the bedroom, looking for his cell phone. When he finds it, he punches the screen forcefully.

  “We have to leave now. She was in the house,” he commands to whomever is on the other end of the line. “Get the boat, get the workers, get all of it ready.” He begins pacing. “No. Now,” he instructs. “I don’t give a shit if the house is a mess, I’ll pay someone to come clean it. We leave now.” He looks to me, his eyes softening. “Thank you.”

  I raise my eyebrows.

  He begins shuffling all over the room. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know when we get on the plane. But right now, I need you to help me pack.”

  Dawn has just broken through the horizon and we’re sitting on the runway waiting to take off.

  Jennings hasn’t said much to me since we left the island. Even on the boat ride back to Playa del Carmen, he sat in the Wheelhouse with Stewart.

  But now, Stewart is flying the plane and Collins isn’t here, so I finally have his attention. We sit at the table and I look to him for an explanation.

  “I know you have a million questions, Whit, and I’m so sorry,” he apologizes.

  I gulp past the lump in my throat. “I know you are, even though I don’t think you need to be. Listen, I don’t need to know the details. I don’t want to know the details, but I want to know what I’m up against.”

  He drags his hand down his face. “You aren’t up against anything, Whit. Amy is sick.”

  “Amy?”

  “That’s the woman’s name. She started stalking me right after my first commercial and gradually got worse as my career escalated.”

  “Did she ever hurt you?” I wonder.

  “No. She’s just done really creepy things.”

  “Creepy, how?”

  He gives me a sad look.

  “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  He steeples his fingers on the table. “You don’t.”

  “So, she’s dangerous,” I state.

  “Maybe? I don’t know. She was in the house and didn’t hurt us, but you also caught her. So, who knows what she would have done.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “This is a huge mess.”

  “It is, and it’s my fault.”

  I give a humorless laugh. “With you and Stewart accusing yourselves, I’d think you guys know something I didn’t.”

  He stays silent.

  “What?” I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer.

  “She broke into the airfield in L.A. and found the plane.”

  “She, what?” I shoot out of my seat.

  “Whit.” His hand reaches out to settle me. “I know I should have told you.”

  “Damn straight you should have.”

  He looks down. “I’m sorry. I thought I was protecting you.”

  I fume. “Look, I get it, I do. I just wished you’d trust me enough to tell me things like that.”

  “I do. It’s not about trust, it’s about keeping you safe.”

  I lean back in my seat. “Yeah, well, let’s get home and get this shit figured out.”

  Jennings gets up from his seat. “Okay.” He comes around the table and kisses the side of my head, lingering for a few seconds. “I’m going to go work out a plan of action with Stewart.”

  It’s early in the afternoon when we land in California and we are whisked away to a black SUV the moment the plane’s wheels stop. Jennings didn’t return to the cabin after he left me, he stayed up front with Stewart.

  “We’re going to take you home, and then I have to go to the police station to file a report,” Jennings informs me when we’re alone in the car.

  I nod my head and look out of the window, watching the last of our weekend getaway fade into just a memory. The long, crowded freeway greets us as we enter L.A. and I close my eyes. I read my book the entire flight home and the severity of the situation is starting to weigh on me.

  School starts next Wednesday and all I really want to do is go home and eat my weight in ice cream. Hiding from Amy seems like an easier option than going out into the world where she could pop up at any time. Thinking about Amy makes me think about him. That fear is just as daunting, but even more real because at least he’s in prison now. But life won’t stop because I’m running from someone. The world still turns and goes on its merry way.

  The vehicle stops in front of my house and my eyes settle on it. It’s still exactly as I left it three days ago. The flowers in the pots on the stoop still bloom, the grass still looks vibrant and green, the wind chime still dings in the wind…all of it is the same, yet, my life feels upside down. Almost like the run-in with Amy was just the beginning of the storm that’s about to befall unto me.

  Jennings thanks the driver and gets out, walking to the back, retrieving my bag. I follow behind him as he mechanically walks me to the door. He hasn’t looked me in the eyes since we landed and if I wasn’t so drained I’d be all over him wanting answers. But, right now, all I really want is for him to come inside with me and sleep. I just want to be in bed with him, knowing he’s safe.

  I unlock the door and turn to him, waiting for him to signal the driver to leave, but he doesn’t.

  It’s then that he finally looks to me. His red face and even redder eyes make my heart stop. He uses his fingers and drags them down his face, then mouth. His chin quakes and a tear slides down his cheek.

  “I’m sorry, Whitley.”

  I shake my head, knowing what he’s doing. “No.”

  He cuts a look to the left. “You’re safer without me in your life.”

  I cross my arms, not wanting to accept what he’s about to do. “No,” I repeat.

  “It’s better this way. She doesn’t want you. She wants me and until I know she’s locked away for good, I can’t be with you.”

  I scoff. “Bullshit, Jennings. You’re worried about me? I’ve gone through worse than this. Trust me. Believe me,” I emphasize by pounding on my chest. “I can take care of myself. Don’t do this.”

  Set on his decision, he sets my bag down. “I can’t take that chance. I can’t be with you anymore.” Another tear breaks free and he blinks.

  “Did you and Stewart come up with this?” I ask. No wonder they were in that cockpit for hours on the way home. They were trying to figure out a way to break my heart.

  He snivels. “No. Stewart had nothing to do with my decision. He actually thinks I’m making a mistake.”

  I give him a sour laugh. What a load of crock. “That makes two of us.”

  “It’s one I’ll live with if it means you’re safe. You’re more important to me than you think. Amy is dangerous. She’ll hurt you to get to me.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I reiterate.

  “This way you won’t have to. You can go on with your life and not worry about what’s lurking around the corner.”

  I already do that. That’s basically my life. What’s another burden? I can take it if it means Jennings…my light, will stay.

  “Jennings, this is absurd. You’re letting her control your life.”

  He shrugs, wiping another tear away. “Maybe.”

  I bark laughter, but it’s dull. “Fantastic. And, what? I’m supposed to just hang around waiting for you until she’s caught?”

  I regret the words the moment I say them. I know it hurt, but he doesn’t hesitate to answer. “No. Move on. Don’t wait for me. Who knows when she’ll be caught? It could be months…years. You will not be unhappy because of me.”

  I swipe at my face. “You mean like I am now?” I deride. “You know what the shitty thing is? I would wait. I would wait for this psycho to be locked up so we could be together, but there would be another one. Then another after that. You’re letting these people dictate how you live your life. It’ll never end, Jennings.”

  His mouth thins. “Which is why I can’t be with you anymore. I’m letting you go.”


  I lick my bottom lip then bite it; tears coming freely down my face. I nod my head. I can see it in his eyes; he’s not going to budge. I could cry and scream, begging him to change his mind, but when Jennings settles on something, that’s that. I don’t want to accept it, and I’m going to break, but I can’t make someone stay.

  He steps toward me and grabs the back of my neck, bringing his lips to my forehead.

  “I’ll miss you, Pretty Girl,” he whispers as he closes his eyes, looking pained.

  I whimper. “I’ll miss you, Jennings.”

  He pulls me to him, entrancing me in a crushing hug. I wrap my arms around him, pulling at his shirt, willing myself not to break down.

  When he lets go of me, he grabs my hand and kisses the top, slipping a note into my hand.

  He walks to the SUV without turning back, hops in the backseat and pulls away.

  I watch as he leaves and when the car is no longer in sight, I open the note.

  I stuff the note in my pocket, pissed off and shove the door, walking inside. What the hell? Damn conductor of crazy. He just told me not to wait for him, and then writes me a note, leaving me on my porch telling to wait for him.

  Setting my bag on the couch, I sit down at the kitchen table and begin shuffling through the mail Holli left for me.

  None of it strikes me as important until I see one letter made out to my old name, Whitley Sanders.

  The letter falls from my hands, onto the ground and I cover my quivering mouth.

  Cade is trying to get out of jail. He’s attempting to get out and I have to go testify against him, again. I have to face him. I sent him there; I thought I made sure of his life sentence. At least—that’s what I believed I did. Everything I said he did, all the things I divulged? He shouldn’t be pardoned. He should be locked up for life.

  Oh, God.

  I dig through my jean pockets and hit the SEND button.

  A wail leaves my mouth before she picks up.

  “Holli…” I struggle to get my words out. “I need you.”