Chapter 25
Alice
Me:
Do you have any requests
Sutton:
Not the kind you buy from the grocery store
Is he flirting with me? My heart trips over itself as I reread his text three times, and excitement flutters in my chest.
Me:
What store do I need to go to? I can make an extra stop. I want to make sure your needs are covered
The anticipation builds as I hit send, biting my lip as I wait for his reply.
Sutton:
It’s not something I can put a price on, Firecracker
Me:
So it’s free?
Sutton:
It’s ridiculously expensive
Me:
That much, huh?
Sutton:
Probably the most expensive thing I’ve ever wanted
His words carry a weight I can’t ignore. I hesitate, then type out
Me:
Is it something I can help you with?
Sutton:
You’re probably the only person who can help
Flutters unleash in my stomach as I read his words, a cascade of emotions rippling through me at his simple reply.
Me:
I think I need you to spell it out, Sunny
Sutton:
I’d rather show you
I squeeze my thighs together in the front seat of my parked car, thankful for the sunglasses shielding my eyes.
I’m pretty sure I just had a mini orgasm in the parking lot of the local grocery store.
I can’t be certain where Sutton’s texts are leading, but I have a feeling.
Our kiss at the county fair blurred the line between us, and from the sounds of these texts, it seems like Sutton might be interested in crossing that boundary again.
I certainly am. I can’t deny that I’ve teased myself to thoughts of Sutton since I’ve been living under his roof.
What woman wouldn’t? The man is fine with a capital F.
His muscles alone could land him on a magazine cover, and that salt in his hair only adds to the appeal.
Now that he’s shown me how well he can kiss, I can’t help but wonder what else he can do.
Me:
All you have to do is ask
I send the text and get out of my car. If I keep flirting, I’ll never get the grocery shopping done, and I told Whitney I’d be back in an hour. Tucking my phone into my purse, I pull out my list and make my way to the cool interior of the store.
I make quick work of the shopping. I put together the list with a few special meals in mind.
I wanted to teach Nellie to cook more dishes since she loved making the fried rice and spaghetti so much.
I decided to try our hand at taco fries, which is essentially nacho toppings over crispy baked fries.
It’s not gourmet by any means, but there are a lot of ingredients she can help me prep, and I can safely supervise her using a knife and cutting board.
The sun nearly blinds me as I step outside about forty minutes later. I untangle my sunglasses from the crown of my head, pulling them over my sensitive eyes. I push the shopping cart in the direction of my car while blinking dark spots from my vision.
“I need to talk to you, Ms. Thompson,” a voice calls out, urgent and unfamiliar.
A man appears from my left, his hands clamping down tightly on the edge of my shopping cart. He quickly circles to the front and blocks my path.
I recognize him immediately—Jake Lanighan, the man behind the podcast I’ve been trying so hard to avoid.
Fear raises the hairs on my arms as goose bumps ripple across my skin. I swallow hard. I could turn back, but there’s a real risk he’ll tackle me before I reach the door. If I continue forward, my pepper spray is in my car. I just have to get there first.
“Leave me alone,” I demand, shoving the cart forward to gain an extra foot of space. My eyes scan the parking lot, searching for a bystander who might help.
He slams his body in front of my cart again, blocking me. “You don’t understand. I’ve been trying to find you.”
Alarm bells ring in my head.
“I know,” I hiss. “You broke into my fucking house.”
He looks terrible. His black hair has grown longer since I first saw him outside that coffee shop a couple of months ago.
The strands are slick and matted, sticking to his forehead.
Dark circles ring the space beneath his eyes.
The tee shirt he wears hangs awkwardly off his body, misshapen and ill-fitting.
Either he hasn’t slept or he’s strung out on something.
Everything about this guy screams danger.
“You wouldn’t talk to me. You aren’t answering my calls,” he says, his voice agitated.
“Because I am not interested! Leave me alone.”
This time, when I shove, he steps out of the way. I reach my car, but he keeps pace beside me, the cart between us providing nearly two feet of distance. I stick my hand in my purse for my keys, but before I can reach them, he lunges.
“Don’t,” he grits, pinning me against the car with the weight of my cart against my torso. “Just listen to me.”
“Let me go,” I yell, hoping to draw attention from the vacant lot.
“Someone is after you,” he says, moving his face closer to mine, his tone urgent.
I flatten my head against the rear driver’s-side window of the car. “Yeah, asshole. You are.”
“Someone else.” His hand shakes as he adjusts his glasses. The sunlight glints off the corner, where a small white light is illuminated.
“Are you recording me?”
“It’s for the show,” he replies with an unsettling nonchalance, as if it’s perfectly normal for a stranger to record someone without their consent. The casualness of his response makes my stomach clench, a wave of unease washing over me.
Trying to distance myself, I shove hard against my shopping cart. The wheels squeak as I push. “Please, just leave me alone.”
He moves back a few inches, only to slam the cart against my stomach, knocking the air from my lungs.
I gasp, feeling the panic rise.
“You have to listen to me,” he persists.
“No, I don’t.”
“Come to my hotel room, and I’ll show you.”
Instantly, I recoil. Not a fucking chance. I know what happens when you go to a second location. This guy is out of his fucking mind.
“It doesn’t have to be like this. I just want you to tell your side of the story. I know you had a hand in your brother’s arrest. Your own mother was sent to jail because of you,” he tries to reason.
My eyes track to the steady white light on his glasses, knowing his true motive. He’s baiting me into talking so he can use my words on his podcast. I press my lips together, refusing to answer, knowing the consequences of my actions might include some form of harm.
“Hey! What’s going on over there?”
An older woman wearing a white apron appears at the grocery store entrance and marches across the parking lot.
“Shit.” Jake pushes off the cart, leaving me breathless as he runs in the opposite direction.
“Is everything all right?”
“No. Can you help me load my groceries into my car? I need to sit down.” My hands shake uncontrollably. It takes three tries to find my keys in my purse and hit the fob. I reach behind me, opening the back door, and drop heavily onto the seat.
Her expression fills with concern. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head. “Just shaken.”
“Do you know that man?” She stares over the roof of my car in the direction Jake took off.
“No. Not really. I should—I should call someone.”
“Want me to call the police for you, honey?”
I’m already dragging my phone out from my crossbody. “I can do it. I know someone who can help.”
My knee bounces chaotically as I pull up my text thread with Sutton. His unread message forgotten as I drop a pin to my location and shakily type.
Me:
Nellie is fine. She’s safe with Whitney. But I need you
My cell comes to life in my hand.
Two rings doesn’t give me enough time to steady my voice and slow my racing heart. I blow out a deep breath. I don’t want to scare him. I just need his help. The line connects. He doesn’t even wait for me to say hello.
“Where are you?”
There’s a rustling, followed by a bang. Even thumps that must be his footsteps. He’s on the move.
My teeth clack loudly together. I release a shaky breath, and a beat passes over the line.
“I’m at the grocery store.”
“Tell me exactly where you are,” he demands again.
My breath catches. I squeeze my eyes shut as a wave of emotion rises in my throat. I fight to keep my voice even. “I’m in my car in the third row from the entrance.”
“Stay there. Do not move. I’m coming.” He issues the tightly controlled order.
“I don’t know what to do, Sutton. I don’t know where he went.” I chew the corner of my thumbnail. The woman finishes loading my groceries and slams the trunk, startling me.
“Are you alone?”
I shake my head even though he can’t see it. “No. There’s a woman here who scared him off.”
“Stay calm, Alice. I’m almost there.”
Within six minutes, a police cruiser screeches into the parking lot, its siren briefly piercing the quiet before cutting off.
The car swerves to a stop at an angle, blocking the parking lane.
Sutton stalks from the driver’s seat the moment the car is in park, his posture tense and determined.
Silas emerges from the other side, scanning the area for any threats.
Sutton doesn’t waste a second. He strides directly toward me, his boots crunching over the gravel. He kneels in front of me without hesitation despite the rough pebbles pressing into his knees.
“What happened?” His steady hands grip my chin, tilting my face up in order to examine me closely. His mirrored sunglasses reflect my face. “You’re pale.”
The warmth of his skin against mine eases some of the tension holding my muscles hostage. Acting on instinct, I curl my fingers around his wrist, anchoring him there, finding reassurance in his presence.
I take a shaky breath, steadying myself. “Jake found me.”
The weight of those three words hits and seems to suck the air from the parking lot.
Sutton’s expression hardens. “Here?”
I nod. “He asked me to come to his hotel.” I relay the rest of what Jake said, including the unsettling detail that he had recorded our entire interaction.
He glances at Silas. “See if there’s a way to get a copy of that,” he instructs, his voice steady but tense. A silent conversation passes between the brothers, perfected over decades of their close relationship. “I’m going to drive Alice home.”