Even if It Hurts (Huntley Square #1)

Prologue

“ I t’s only one more year,” I whispered as I pinched the bridge of my nose and drew in a slow breath. Only partially paying attention to the busy goings-on of the coffee shop I was standing in when my thoughts were being pulled in a dozen directions.

Well, three directions.

My family, the man on the other end of the phone, and the secret I’d been keeping from all of them.

“I’ve heard that before, Lainey,” my longtime boyfriend countered, the barest hint of frustration leaking through his tone. “Two years ago. Next thing I know, you’re gonna come back, saying you decided to get your doctorate next.”

“I won’t.”

“You sure about that?”

“I—” I choked over the rest of my response and staggered forward when someone barreled into my back.

Just as I was about to slam into the caffeine-deprived woman waiting to order, the person behind me caught and steadied me, murmuring, “Sorry.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I started assuring him it was fine. But before the words could tumble free, the man standing with him nodded past me and impatiently said, “You can move up,” as if repeating it.

There was barely enough space for a small child to fit between me and the woman in front of me. But his unexpected frustration had me staring at the men for a second or two longer before I awkwardly nodded and mumbled an apology as I inched forward.

“Uh...” I squeezed my eyelids tightly shut as I tried remembering what I’d been saying to Jackson, then opened them in time to move forward with the line. “Can we not do this again?” I softly pleaded. “I don’t wanna argue.”

Not over the same thing we’d been arguing about for years. Not when I’d just left for my sixth—and final—year of school about half an hour before.

“We wouldn’t have these arguments at all if you hadn’t gone in the first place.”

My stomach twisted with guilt even as frustration burned in my chest. But when I started responding with something to appease him for now, he muttered a low, “Gotta go,” and ended the call.

No I love you . No we’re gonna get through this . No nothing .

And for the first time since I’d left for college, I was worried for what awaited us on the other side of this.

“Sorry I’m late,” a low, rough voice said as an arm slid around my waist with purpose.

Before I had a chance to do anything sane, like shove the man away or yell for help because there was a stranger pulling me close, he was tipping my chin up. The words, “Just go with it,” falling from his lips on the softest breath before his mouth pressed to mine.

It was nothing more than a peck—chaste and casual.

But there was nothing casual about the storm of emotions flooding my veins when it ended. There was nothing casual about the way my lips tingled as if begging me to close the small distance between us again. There was nothing casual about the swarm of wings in my stomach as I got trapped in a pair of the darkest eyes I’d ever seen.

“How’s your morning?” he asked as if we weren’t literally speaking for the first time.

But even if his hand hadn’t subtly flexed against my waist, prompting me to continue playing along, the surprising amount of authority in his hushed words had me stammering, “Uh, g-good. Busy but good.”

He nodded before gesturing to where I was still holding my phone. “Bad call?”

I briefly wondered if I should be worried that some random guy had been listening in on my call before realizing that worry should’ve started the moment he touched me. But there were no warning bells or red flags. All self-preservation had vanished and been replaced with a wholly unanticipated calm.

“It went as expected,” I said as he moved us toward the register without ever checking to make sure the path was clear.

A rough sound of acknowledgment left him before he placed his order, then looked expectantly at me.

“Oh, um...a caramel macchiato please. Iced. Light on it—the ice, I mean. Please.”

Wow, Lainey. Brilliant.

I started pulling my bag off my shoulder only to stop when the man passed his hand in front of it in a subtle yet effective move.

Right...because, for some reason, there was a devastatingly handsome man with his arm wrapped around me, asking me to just go with it —whatever that entailed. Because someone who wasn’t Jackson had kissed me. Because stopping for a simple coffee with my great-aunt before I left the state had turned into one of the weirdest encounters of my life.

I let the man lead me to where another person was waiting for their order, and only then began worrying over the fact that I was very willingly letting a stranger dictate my every move rather than fighting to get away.

“How long does this go on before I scream for help?” I asked under my breath when his arm drifted up to curl around my shoulder, keeping me closer than before. “Because I’m meeting someone, and I promise you, they’ll absolutely know something’s wrong if I’m not here.”

“You need to stay here?” he asked as if confirming.

“And I’d prefer to do it without you,” I murmured, even though the twist of guilt in my gut made me think that wasn’t entirely true.

His chest pitched with amusement, but his dark eyes continued casually taking in the rest of the café before falling to me as he repeated, “Go with it.”

I stilled but didn’t move when his mouth fell to my ear, making it look like he was whispering sweet nothings, when in actuality, his words had icy tendrils wrapping around my spine.

“You’ll meet whoever you’re supposed to, and I’ll hopefully be gone long before they show. But if you scream and try to get away from me, you won’t make it the rest of the day before you’re taken by people you really don’t wanna meet. Understand?”

My breaths came sharper and faster as I digested the blatant threat. “And how do I know that isn’t you ?”

A patronizing sound left him. “Pretending to be involved with strange women is the last thing I ever wanna do with my time. However, making sure people are safe is what I do.”

Those tendrils quickly spread throughout my body at the confident way he spoke and had chills raising along my skin. “So, you’re saying I’m not safe...”

“You are now,” he assured me, then dropped his arm back to my waist and gave a reassuring squeeze. “Need you to look like everything’s fine when I let you go.”

But before I had a chance to take a breath or school my expression or figure out if I even believed him, he was releasing me and grabbing the drinks that had just been set on the counter.

“Not convincing,” he murmured when he faced me again. “Turn and go to the table at the far corner.”

I blinked up at him, my lips parting to let him know he couldn’t just expect me to do whatever he demanded all because he’d— successfully —attempted to scare me with some well-delivered lines.

But before I could utter a word, he added, “Now. They’re watching.”

I needed to run. Some voice in the back of my mind was screaming that was what I should’ve done from the beginning—that he was probably some psychopathic murderer who fixated on the blonde at the beginning of the slasher movie.

But there was truly something about his commanding and calming presence that made me want to believe him. Or maybe I only wanted to believe him because of the erratic way my heart had been pounding ever since he’d kissed me.

Either way, to my horror, I turned and started walking.

Keeping my phone close enough to my body so he couldn’t see, I opened my phone app and dialed 9-1-1 just as I sank into a seat at the nearest empty table, despite his instructions, and watched as irritation passed across his face.

Unfortunately, that was the only crack in his fa?ade, and even that was brief. Within seconds, he had our drinks on the table and settled beside me as if nothing were amiss, even as he snatched my phone from my grasp.

“Wait—”

“Let me finish this, I’ll leave, and you’ll never see me again,” he vowed, and for some asinine reason, I believed him.

“Finish what?” I shot back.

“Trust me.”

I clenched my teeth tightly as I studied him because I hated that some part of me did trust him. “I don’t know you.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said as my phone was gently placed back in my hands in a shocking display of trust. “All you need to know is, for whatever unfortunate reason, you needed me today.”

“How fortunate for me that you just happened to be here when I apparently needed you.”

“I’m here almost every morning,” he countered with a subtle raise of an eyebrow. “I just happened to see that you needed me.”

“And why did I need you?” I challenged. “You said I’d be?—”

“Not yet.”

That was it. Just not yet .

“Well, thank you for the coffee,” I began after a long, tension-filled minute had passed between us, “but you can’t just touch and kiss people. Especially people you don’t know.”

A sound of disapproval and frustration rose in his throat as he leaned closer to me, all while very quickly and subtly glancing around us, not that I’d said the words loud enough for anyone else to hear.

When he finally pinned those dark eyes on me, his expression said he was more than aware, but there was a clear warning in his rough voice when he said, “It’s effective. Touch can do things words can’t.”

“Like have people contemplating if they’ve just met a serial killer.”

He let out a huff that might’ve passed as a laugh, but I couldn’t be sure. After taking a drink from his cup, he leaned closer still and murmured, “It can convince people you’re with someone like me, so they’ll think twice about taking you. You’re welcome.”

The same assuredness from earlier had ice pushing through my veins. Or maybe that was his unconcealed irritation that hadn’t been there just seconds before.

Taking my purse, he pulled it away from me and held it out of reach when I tried grabbing it.

“What are you— stop ,” I futilely demanded.

He searched the contents with one hand and pushed me away with the other as if I were nothing more than an annoying fly. Just as I was about to finally yell the way I should’ve when he’d first pressed his mouth to mine, he pulled a small, circular device from my purse and held it up for me to see.

“Do yourself a favor,” he began as he shoved my bag at me, tone low and full of rage, “be more aware of your surroundings when you’re in public.”

“What is that?” I asked, reaching for the device, even though I was sure I already knew.

“Tracker,” he said unapologetically as he curled his hand around it. “The men behind you in line? The ones who bumped into you? That wasn’t an accident,” he seethed. “They distracted you by putting you off balance physically and then mentally while slipping this into your open bag.”

I felt cold. I felt sick.

And I had no idea what to say or do as the man in front of me stood and grabbed his cup off the table.

“They’re gone, but that’s what the tracker’s for. I’ll lead them somewhere else so you’ll remain safe.” He tipped his cup at me. “Your job is to get a bag that closes and gain some awareness so you don’t need me again.”

My narrowed stare shot to him just as he turned to leave without a backward glance. Without a goodbye. Without any kind of indication that he had truly just saved me, as he’d promised. Without any hint of the chaos still swirling inside me from the short, incredibly impactful kiss that never should’ve happened.

By the time my great-aunt arrived a handful of minutes later, I was still staring in the direction the man had left, reeling from the encounter that felt so unbelievable, and wondering if I’d wake from this outlandish dream at any moment.

“I’m late, I’m late,” she said as she pressed a kiss to my forehead and slipped into the chair the man had been occupying. Waving a dismissive hand through the air, she rolled her eyes. “Got caught up talking with the boss.”

“Aunt Ada, you’re never gonna believe what happened,” I began, the words coming out on a whispered rush as I finally snapped out of my daze. “Some random man kissed me.”

Shock colored her expression as she grabbed my iced coffee and started drinking it as if it were hers. “Have you told Jackson?”

“No, it just—I don’t even know this man. He—” I stole a quick glance around the café, then leaned closer to whisper, “He said he was saving me.” I gestured to the line of people leading up to the counter. “It just happened.”

As soon as the words left me, I wondered if the man had exaggerated the entire thing simply to scare me. The tracker alone would’ve done the job, but the men who put it there could’ve been using it to steal from me once I left the shop—not steal me . Right?

I felt like an idiot for believing a man I didn’t know.

Then again, from how enraptured I’d been in him and how disappointed I’d been when he left, I had a sinking feeling I would’ve believed anything he told me.

One of my great-aunt’s graying eyebrows was raised when I focused on her again, intrigue and something like mischief lighting her eyes as she slowly looked over her shoulder, in the direction of the door. When she faced me, a wry smirk was pulling at her mouth. “Well, don’t keep all the excitement to yourself, Lainey Ray. Do tell.”

So, I did. The entire thing from when I’d walked into the coffee shop to the man leaving.

Throughout it all, there was an undertone of guilt because I could still feel the man’s lips on mine as clearly as if he were there, kissing me all over again. Never once was there a hint of embarrassment or remorse for not reacting the way any sane woman would’ve, and surprisingly, my aunt Ada didn’t chastise me for it. But near the end, there was a whisper of frustration...

Frustration that I had trusted an irrationally handsome stranger so wholly and without reason.

Frustration that I wanted to keep this a secret from Jackson when there shouldn’t be a reason to.

Frustration because, in the span of five minutes, that imposing man had thrown me off in a way nothing and no one ever had, only to leave as if our encounter had never happened.