38. Thea
38
THEA
I knew I should move, get off Shep’s lap, and sit in a chair. I was fine. I was safe. So someone had sent me a cruel letter. So what?
But every time I caught a glimpse of that paper, frigid, icy claws of dread dug in and twisted. It was the kind of bitter cold that made your bones hurt. The type that should’ve been impossible on an eighty-five-degree day.
Shep’s hand moved up and down my back in a soothing gesture. I tried to focus on that—the warm reassurance. His steady presence.
“Do you want something to drink?” he asked softly.
“Here,” Sutton cut in. “I made tea.”
I blinked at her a few times, just remembering that she was here and this was my place of work. I quickly slid off Shep’s lap and moved back to the chair beside him. “Thank you. I’m sorry—I—Luca.” I blanched, thinking about how my freakout must’ve scared him.
Sutton just squeezed my shoulder. “He’s fine. He’s upstairs playing a game on his tablet, completely oblivious to any drama.” Sadness swept through her expression. “I’m so sorry I gave you that damn thing. If I’d known?—”
I shook my head. “It’s not your fault.”
The bell over the door jingled, and my entire body stiffened. No, it braced, preparing to fight or run, like Brendan might show up wielding an ax. It was ridiculous. He’d never caused me physical harm, yet the fear was there all the same.
Instead of a crazed ax murderer, Trace walked through the door. His dark hair looked more mussed than usual, but he wore that same careful expression—the look that never gave much away.
I couldn’t help but focus on the gun at his hip and the badge on his belt. I swallowed hard, the fear setting in all over again.
A hand slid into mine, squeezing. “It’s okay,” Shep assured me.
His words from earlier echoed in my head. “You let me in.”
And I had. One tiny crack in the fortress I’d built, and everything had come tumbling down. But I couldn’t find it in me to regret it. I’d never be able to regret the gift that was Shep—and everything he’d brought with him. His family. His friends. They’d made me realize that life was about more than just running.
So, I took a deep breath and prepared to turn my fortress to ash.
“Thea,” Trace greeted, his voice so gentle it almost hurt to hear. “First thing, do you need medical attention?”
Shep bristled at that. “You don’t think I would’ve called Dr. Avery if that was the case?”
“I just need to double-check with Thea,” Trace said, his voice remarkably calm in the face of his brother’s anger.
I didn’t blame him for asking. I was sure I was a shade of pale that looked more like death than anything. “I don’t need a doctor. I just—I had a shock.”
Anson handed Trace the letter now in a sealed plastic bag. I watched Trace’s face change. It was brief, only for a split second, but I saw it. Gone was the careful expression, and in its place, a mask of fury. But just as quickly as that rage appeared, it retreated again.
Trace’s jaw worked back and forth. “Russ?”
I hadn’t even considered the possibility of Russ Wheeler sending a note like this. He definitely had the cruelty in him to do it. The tiniest bit of relief swirled inside me at the thought. It’d be far better for him to be the sender than Brendan.
Shep’s grip on my hand tightened. “Could be him.”
Anson’s gaze narrowed on the letter.
“You don’t agree.” Trace’s words weren’t a question, but Anson still gave him an answer.
“Doesn’t fit the profile I’ve been building. Russ likes to see the damage he inflicts. Wants to be up close and personal. He’s also incredibly impulsive. Something like this took time. Taking the photo, printing it out, dropping it in The Mix Up’s mailbox.”
My stomach was back to churning, and my fingers dug into Shep’s hand.
Trace looked between me and Shep. “There someone else I should be checking out?”
Shep glanced at me, waiting. I knew he’d give me all the time in the world. It was his way of ceding control. And I knew that cost him. Because Shep dealt with uncertainty by controlling as much as he could.
Saliva pooled in my mouth as I tried to begin. But where did you start with something like this? My eyes burned, and my stomach cramped as anxiety set in. Because there was always the worry that whoever I told wouldn’t believe me. That Trace wouldn’t believe me.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm and center myself. All I could do was speak my truth. I couldn’t control what anyone did with it. But maybe just saying the words aloud would make me stronger. So, I took the first step. I began.
“I used to date Brendan Boseman.”
The story tumbled out of me in fits and starts. I had to backtrack and reexplain at times. Others, I had to clarify or add something I’d forgotten. It wasn’t pretty or even completely lucid at moments, but Trace stuck with me, only stopping me to ask questions if it was absolutely necessary.
Sutton had wiped away silent tears at more than one point, her knuckles bleaching white as she gripped her coffee mug. I hated that she was hurting for me. But it also felt like a gift—knowing that she cared that much.
Anson was silent. Watchful. In the way I’d grown to know meant he was putting together the pieces. Pulling at threads I couldn’t see. Honestly, I didn’t want to. Because that gift came with a price.
“So, I’ve just been here,” I said finally, “living off the radar as much as possible. Going by my middle name, making sure nothing about my life can be found on the internet. No tracks or traces.”
Shep leaned in, his lips ghosting across my temple. “So fucking brave.”
Trace was quiet for a long moment. At some point, he’d started jotting notes on a pad of paper that Anson had handed him. There were more pages than I could count now. His dark green eyes connected with mine. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, Thea. Those words don’t do it justice, but they’re the best I have.”
Cool relief swept through me at his words. Like the feeling of air conditioning finally hitting you after a day working in the blistering sun. Or the river skating over your skin after lying on the bank for hours.
I swallowed, trying to clear the lump in my throat as Trace went blurry in front of me. “You believe me?”
Shep’s hand convulsed around mine.
“I believe you, Thea,” Trace said, pain lacing his words. “And I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
I inhaled through my nose, trying to clear the gathering tears. “I don’t think there’s anything to do. Any action you take would just lead Brendan back to me.”
“Well, I’m going to be googling how to hire a hitman,” Sutton clipped. “Then he won’t be able to get back to you at all.”
The ghost of a smile appeared on Trace’s face. “Gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“Don’t care,” Sutton snapped. “This goes before a jury, they’ll see I was doing the world a favor by ridding it of that vile scum.”
“Amen,” Anson muttered .
Trace sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s see what we can do via the legal system first.”
Shep’s thumb skated back and forth over the back of my hand. The callused skin soothed with each pass, assuring me he was still with me. “I’ve thought about an order of protection, but those will just reveal Thea’s location. And with Boseman’s connections, we might not be able to get a permanent one approved.”
That was the thing about people in power. They weren’t held to the same standards as everyone else. They could bend any system to their will. And whatever legal team Brendan assembled could crush me.
A muscle fluttered in Trace’s cheek. “He might be a hotshot in Hollywood, but this sure as hell isn’t Los Angeles.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said softly. “You don’t know him. Don’t know how convincing he is. There’s a reason he’s up for every award known to man.” Because Brendan used those acting skills. And he’d won gold with them. He’d just done it to destroy my life.
Trace rested his forearms against the table and leaned forward. “I’m not going to believe him. I promise. And I know that we can get a judge on our side if we need to. But for now, I want to make some delicate inquiries.” Trace leaned back and glanced at Anson. “You in?”
“Already been running some searches.”
Shep winced, looking at me. “I might’ve paid Anson so I could talk to him with shrink confidentiality protections.”
Anson scoffed. “Paid me a fucking dollar.”
“Hey, two dollars,” Shep shot back. Then he looked at me. “I needed someone to talk to about you.”
It should’ve made me angry, Shep sharing those details with someone without my permission. But all I could see was the lengths he’d gone to in order to make sure my secrets were protected. And the ridiculousness that was him paying his best friend a dollar to have a therapy session.
I looked at Anson. “A dollar, huh? That’s a steal. ”
“Don’t go spreading that around,” he grumbled. “I am not open for business.”
Trace’s lips twitched. “Can’t really see you as the warm and comforting type, so that might be for the best.”
Anson flipped him off.
Sutton looked up from her tea, not joining in our amusement. “Did you find anything in your searches?”
Anson glanced at her and then at me. “Everything I’ve found so far doesn’t show any signs of Brendan leaving the Crescent Lake area where he’s filming. No hits on his credit cards outside the area?—”
“I did not hear that,” Trace groused.
My eyes widened. “You’re in his bank accounts ?”
Anson grinned at me, but it had a slightly disturbing quality to it. “Damn straight. Well, I’m not. I recruited help.”
“Help?” I parroted.
Shep squeezed my hand. “Anson worked with some of the best hackers in the world when he was at the bureau.”
“Got a white hat—an ethical hacker—on it. Dex is not down with this sort of thing. When I told him a little of what’d happened to you, the tech side, he took on the mission. He said those pictures and videos are scrubbed from everywhere other than a couple of places on the dark web. He’s still doing battle there, but they should be gone within the next week or two.”
The tears came then. I couldn’t stop them. Hot and fast, they burned my cheeks where they fell. “They’re down? People can’t see them anymore?”
Shep moved in, lifting me into his lap once again and cuddling me against him. “They’re down, Thorn.”
A sob tore free. “I didn’t think they’d ever—I thought it was impossible?—”
“Fuck,” Anson muttered.
“Rethinking letting Sutton google hitmen,” Trace growled.
“Screw that,” Sutton snapped. “I’m taking him out myself. ”
I tried to take them all in. Really see the people around the table who were all willing to fight. For me.
“Thank you,” I managed to get out around my tears. “Thank you for helping me get my life back.”
And I meant it in all the ways. More than just getting back the most intimate photos, they’d helped me remember that life was for living and not just for hiding.
Shep nuzzled my neck. “You’re not alone. Not anymore.”