by Zoey Parker
I wouldn’t blame him if he had, but it left me feeling slightly hollow.
I had squashed down all hopes of finding Kade because it would have been worse if I came downstairs, thinking maybe he was just having a cup of coffee, only to find that he really was gone. Which was why when I reached the ground level and found him in the kitchen doing just that, I had to pause and catch my breath.
Relief was the first thing that filled me, followed quickly by embarrassment and apprehension. Buried amidst these things was something else, too. Desire. But I wasn’t ready to deal with that yet, so I focused on the others as I padded over to him, the tiles cold beneath my bare feet.
“Hey,” I murmured, because it was all I could get past the lump in my throat.
Kade had a mug of steaming black coffee half raised to his mouth when he glanced to look at me. There was a slew of emotions behind his dark eyes, but I couldn’t seem to decipher any of them. It didn’t help that I couldn’t make myself meet his steady gaze.
“Good morning,” he told me, putting his mug down and standing. “Do you want coffee?”
My stomach rumbled a little bit and I wasn’t sure if that was a sign for food or a warning against it. Either way, I thought coffee might be safe. I gave him a weak smile. “Please.”
He went around the counter where he’d been sitting to grab a mug from one of the cupboards. I could have told him which was my favorite and how much I expected to be in that mug when I got it, but I wasn’t going to. Whatever he gave me right now was fine.
I studied the lines of his back, which were well defined and easily spotted through the thin t-shirt he wore. His hair was thick and looked a little damp, like maybe he’d taken a shower not so long ago himself, though the tips were curling as pieces dried. I couldn’t see his face or expression right now—that was pointed at the coffee pot—but I remembered it easily enough. Hard, striking plains with a square jaw that grew a dark stubble that should have been off-putting, unkempt—but wasn’t. I thought of his full lips, how soft they were.
It was foolish to be watching him so closely, so interested in his looks, just like it had been foolish of me to have kissed him last night. But what was most foolish, what should have gotten me thrown into crazy town, was the thoughts that continued to swirl in my head.
He cleaned up nicely, a little voice in my head offered, though I hardly cared about all of that. And he’s very protective, and strong.
I shook my head a little to try and clear the thoughts away, because this was a really bad idea. He was one of Uncle Caleb’s. He was only here to protect me.
“Cream? Sugar?” he asked as he poured the tar black concoction into my mug. It had a big yellow star on it and said SUPERSTAR! beneath. Uncle Caleb had given it to me after I’d landed my first part. It happened to be my favorite mug.
I shook my head, my stomach roiling in protest at the suggestion. No, I definitely didn’t want any cream or sugar or milk or anything of the like. Coffee sounded good; it sounded like the kind of thing that would coat my stomach and settle it, but the rest of it sounded only like trouble.
“No, thanks,” I told him, sliding into the seat he had just vacated. Which was when I spotted the letters.
I froze.
Those letters weren’t difficult to recognize. I’d seen them a thousand times, poring over them again and again while holding the physical letter, or in the dead of night seeing it behind my eyelids, preventing it from sleep.
Dearest Abby, the letter nearest me began, and that alone was enough for me to shudder, a chill running through me as my hands grew clammy.
I have thought of you often since the last time we met. The smooth, silky quality of your hair and the shimmery lipstick you so often like to wear. You had on that summer dress, do you remember? The one that was baby blue and set off your large eyes so perfectly. It was modest, stopping just above your knees and had the little white ruffles at the edge that matched the white lace that dipped down your neckline. I remember the beads of sweat that slipped down there along your soft skin, tickling until you laughed gaily. How sweet a sound.
It was a casual day for us and I will treasure it. I thought surely you would, too.
But maybe I’m wrong, my dearest love.
Maybe you do not appreciate what we have between us like I thought. After Trevor, I thought we’d worked through our troubles. I thought we could finally be happy together. I promised you picnics in the park and leisurely floats on the boat. I promised you everything under the sun and then more!
And then I find Roberto. That betrayal cut deeper than any other. After everything I’ve done for you. After all the nights I stayed up and watched you, protected you as you walked to your car, as you drank too much and danced with those horrid bitches you call friends. After everything, you would treat me so?
I have loved you with all that is me, Abby! I LOVE YOU! And then you toss me aside like a piece of trash again and again! You lie with men who could never make you happy!
You BITCH! You horrendous, cheating BITCH!
After all we’ve been through!
Well, I can’t forgive this one, Abby. I won’t let you just walk all over my heart. This time, you’ll either be mine forever or you’ll have to DIE, BITCH!
It was signed with Your Greatest Love, but no real name. Of course. They were all kind of like that. They started off all gushy, like I was the most wonderful woman in the world, as though I could do no wrong. And then they slipped away…the words became strange at first. Whoever it was, he would talk about outings we’d had together. I had thought of course, they’re made up, that the guy was certainly just delusional. But as I read through the letters, each of them containing details for that specific outing, I began to realize something.
They were real.
I could still remember the day I had worn that blue sundress. It had been a hot summer’s day and I’d gone to the park with a few “social” friends. Part of it was for appearances, there was always going to be paparazzi around, but part of it was that we were also just having a really good day. It was warm, it was breezy, it was sunny—it was a perfect day.
Then I got the letter about a week or so later. I had proceeded to absolutely destroy that dress. I’d ripped it to shreds, put some of it through the garbage disposal, and the rest went into the fireplace even though it was the middle of summer.
After the letter spoke of our most perfect day, he’d deteriorate. For every good thing I’d done while we were supposedly together, I’d done something terrible to him afterwards. For a long time, it had been Trevor. Before him it had been Julian, and after him it was Roberto. He hated whenever I was dating someone. Whenever I got someone new, he would threaten me. He would tell me to drop this new guy like a hot potato, or I’d be sorry.
But this letter, this one had been the first one that promised very real, very serious repercussions. This was the first one that promised I would be physically harmed if I didn’t do as I was told.
“Where did you get this?” My voice came out like shards of ice, but I couldn’t help it. And I didn’t want to. I asked the question, but ultimately I already knew the answer. There was only one place he could have gotten it.
I saw Kade tense, holding my mug of steaming coffee, and hesitantly search my face and my posture and the damn letters like he was trying to piece together a puzzle that might lead him to the right answer.
Eventually, he let out a sigh and came over to me. I stiffened, but he only put the coffee mug down in front of me. He kept the counter between us, which was probably a really good idea right now.
“I saw them last night when I put you to bed,” he answered finally, keeping his voice mild though it grew deep at the word ‘bed.’
I swallowed. “You looked through my things?” I demanded, feeling anger and other things bubble up within me at the same time. “You took things from my room? Private things?” My voice was growing louder as I spoke and some part of me knew that it wasn’t fair, that I
was about to pick a fight with him over little, stupid things. I didn’t have to ask him to know why he’d taken these letters. The answer was obvious in the bold, blood red writing. DIE, BITCH. It was his job to protect me, how could he do that while ignoring a blatant threat?
Even so, I felt indignant, angry, and more than that, I felt bare. As though he could now see some vulnerable part of me. And he’d already seen enough of that.
“What gave you the right to—”
But he cut me off. “It’s my job to protect you, to make sure you’re safe!” He reached over and snatched up the letters—he’d taken two or three it looked like—waving them in an angry fist, shoving them at me. “How am I supposed to do that when you don’t tell me what’s really going on? Does Caleb even know about these?”
I opened and closed my mouth a half a dozen times. Of course he didn’t know about the damn letters! But I found that right in that moment, I didn’t want to tell Kade that. I didn’t want him to know that I’d been holding on to those letters, hiding them away in fear and shame, unwilling to get Caleb truly riled up over something that could be devastating. I didn’t want to tell him that I’d been terrified—both of the letter and of what Caleb might do.
I didn’t want to tell him anything, so I told him nothing.
He made an angry, frustrated sound low in his throat. “Damnit, Abby!” Even angry, I found I liked the way my name sounded on his lips. “How am I supposed to keep you safe when I don’t know everything I need to know? How is Caleb supposed to stop this psychopath when he only has half the information?”
I wanted to still be angry, maybe even angry enough to throw that coffee mug at him, because it was easier than feeling like a small child in trouble. And it was definitely easier than feeling afraid.
“Did you at least go to the damn police?” Kade asked finally, his voice still rough, but he sounded wearier than anything else.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Of course not! Are you crazy? Do you honestly think I’d call my uncle and tell him about this right after going to the police?”
He slumped a little at that, looking properly admonished. He made a noise in his throat, then rubbed his fingers into his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept in the least the night before. Maybe he hadn’t; I couldn’t say. There were heavy bags under his eyes and lines drawn on his face that I didn’t think were there the night before.
Finally, he said in a much calmer voice, “Okay, fine. No police. But you did call your uncle. And he is looking into it. I think, at this point, it’s important to tell him the whole story, don’t you?”
I hesitated. No, honestly, I didn’t really think it was a good idea. In fact, I thought it was a horrible idea. But I wasn’t sure anymore if that was because I honestly felt that way or because I didn’t want anyone knowing about the letters. I couldn’t say why, but they made me feel ashamed, as though I had done something wrong. It was a ridiculous notion and I’d brushed it from my mind a thousand times, but after last night I was even more vulnerable and everything seemed to be eating away at me.
Shaking my head slowly, I said, “Will it really do any good, though? I mean, finding a person is one thing, but this? There are no names on these letters, no return addresses, nothing! All I know is that he was…” I broke off, clenching my eyes shut tightly. I took a deep steadying breath, and when I opened my eyes again, I found that Kade had come around the counter to stand beside me. He hesitated a half a second, then placed a large, comforting hand on my back.
“What? He was what?” he pressed, his voice gentling until it was almost soothing despite what he was asking me.
I worried at my lower lip before finally answering him. “Some of the things he said…he couldn’t have known them if he wasn’t there, but they really happened.”
For a moment, I was silent, letting the meaning of my words sink in. I saw when they did. Kade’s shoulders when rigid and his hand stopped moving along my back. I risked a look at his face and saw that it was tight with anger, the muscles of his jaw working hard as he clenched his teeth tightly.
After a moment, he said, “He’s been watching you.”
I broke down and explained to him about the letters. I’d started getting them almost a year ago now. Kade was thoroughly shocked to discover that I’d been receiving them for so long, but I quickly explained that they hadn’t been like this in the beginning. It wasn’t all just anger and threats. The letters had started out sweet, just like any other fan letter.
My Dear Miss Abby…
They had begun early on when he was still sounding charming, if a little off.
I have seen every last one of your movies and think you are an absolute charm. You are a gift to us all and I can only feel blessed personally to have been so close to greatness through your work.
It was all gushing flattery. And I admitted it, part of me liked it. It was nice to be told you were doing good work, that you were spectacular. But I also noted the flowery word choice and the rambling letters about how I was like a true star, bright and burning long after my time had come and gone.
That started to get creepy and it only got worse from there.
I want you to know how happy you’ve made me these last few months, the letters began to tell me, like a man speaking to his lover, how you’ve made me glow with joy and a careless frivolity. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.
And that was how I began to understand that the tone of his letters were changing. He was telling me how good we were together and how much in common we had, how we were connected.
The letters started to describe things in my life that left me feeling uneasy, and one, just one, included a picture of me that could have been from the paparazzi—but probably wasn’t.
“The letter with the picture,” Kade questioned, still seeming tense and angry. “That was when they started having details? And when they started getting angrier?”
I nodded. “Some of the things in the letters he could have known from the press,” I admitted. “But some of it…” I shook my head. “There were details that the press didn’t have and the pictures didn’t show. And yet he knew them. It means…it means that he must have been watching when…” I tried to hold back a sob, but couldn’t. I clamped my hand down hard across my mouth, at the very least trying to quiet the noise.
“Shh,” Kade told me, his voice gentle again as he pulled me against his broad chest. “Shh, it’s alright. Everything will be alright.”
I didn’t really believe him, but I wanted to. So I let myself lean against him and sob a moment as he stroked my damp hair. We stayed like that for a while before I finally pulled away, using the bottom of my t-shirt to wipe at my tears.
At least I’m not wearing makeup, I thought stupidly. It was the last thing that mattered, all things considered, but my looks were safe enough that I didn’t have to really be worried or afraid. They were something almost neutral to think of.
When I’d calmed down, he pushed the coffee toward me. “Drink your coffee,” he commanded as I watched him pull out his cell phone.
I accepted the mug, but eyed his phone suspiciously. “What are you doing?” I asked him before taking a sip.
He looked over at me, considering something before he finally said, “I’m calling Caleb.”
I was up in a shot, spilling a little of my coffee over the sides and onto the counter. “No! You can’t!”
But Kade only shook his head. “I’m sorry, but this is a big deal now. If you really do have a stalker—”
I winced. This was the first time anyone, myself included, had called it what it really was. Someone was stalking me. And if that didn’t terrify me, nothing would.
“—then we need to inform Caleb. Maybe he can use the letters to track him. At the very least, he’ll know how serious this is.”
I was shaking my head, though I knew in my heart that Kade was right. I was just being stubborn and didn’t want to admit it. “We don’t need to do anything!” I argued. “He
doesn’t have to know, no one does. This can stay between you and me and…”
I broke off because he was giving me a strong paternal look, and I didn’t really like it when a man I was attracted to gave me fatherly looks. I wanted them to look at me like I was lust incarnate. I wanted them to see me as a goddess, someone to lust after and admire and adore. Not as some child they needed to protect.
But then his gaze eased and I saw that beneath that so-called paternal look was something else. It was just as protective, but it was darker, too. Deeper. He stepped close to me again, setting his phone on the counter beside my spilled coffee. Then he put his hands on my upper arms, wrapping them around the skin just beneath the edges of my sleeves so that I could feel his heat soaking in through my skin.
