16. Elyse
CHAPTER 16
Elyse
MY TERRITORIAL SIDE
PRESENT
“ C an I just pay for this now, and get it over with?”
The courthouse clerk types away on her computer, her long acrylics clacking on the keys.
I got lucky. The judge was really lenient and let me go with a fine. After some online research I was expecting to be hit with community service.
“Hmm that’s odd,” she says, pinching her face as she stares at the screen.
My heart drops. If there’s another bench warrant out for me, I’m going to lose my shit. “What? What is it?”
“Says here, you’re fine was already paid.” Her hand reaches through the divider, long nails wiggling near me. “Let me see that paperwork again.”
I hand it to her, feeling just as confused as she looks. After a few moments, she slaps the counter, forcing a jolt out of me. Just being near the jail has my nerves buzzing with unease.
“I see it now. According to the note in your file, your fine was taken care of by Deputy Alvarez.” She looks up me through the glasses resting on her nose. “Must’ve done something super sweet for that kind of favor .”
The way she says ‘favor’ makes it sound like I sucked his dick so he’d pay my fine. I fight a scoff while willing away the red heat creeping up my neck. She probably thinks I just got done working the corner, and based on the way she’s eyeing my black leather skirt and knee-high boots, I’m all but confirming her suspicions. Great.
“So, am I good to go?”
“Looks to be that way,” she says, her voice deceptively nice.
Something tells me I’ve going to be the topic of conversation amongst the courthouse clerks, the moment I hit the parking lot.
As I walk out the exit door with my head down, distracted by the red notifications littering my phone, my shoulder collides with something hard, setting me off balance, and I nearly trip.
Looking up, I find a set of narrowed brown eyes, blazing into me. It’s Deputy Morales and she’s giving me a smile that looks both syrupy-sweet and razor-sharp.
“Sorry,” she says in a sing-song with a sheepish shrug. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
Yeah, right.
“Hi!” I say, forcibly upbeat. “You work with Dominic, right?”
Her smile drops, jaw tightening. “Yeah, why? You got a problem with that?”
What is wrong with this girl? “No, of course not,” I say through a smirk. “Just like getting to know Dominic’s coworkers, that’s all.”
My territorial side is coming out, but I can’t help it. So, what if I’m making myself sound like his girlfriend? She’s the one acting like she has some kind of claim over him .
“You know, it’s really pathetic that you can’t take a hint and leave him alone. Obviously, he doesn’t want you.”
This bitch…
“Sweetie, if he wanted you, you’d know it. Pretty sure drooling over him at work is more pathetic.”
She scoffs, crossing her arms, and popping a hip.
I haven’t wanted to lunge at someone this hard since I saw Ethan’s skank ex-fiancé at the bar, but there was a little liquor in my system then. Right now, I’m totally sober, yet the same surge of anger is still taking hold of me.
“Sweetie,” she says, throwing the word back at me. “If he really wanted you , he wouldn’t be all over me at work.”
I recoil, my head snapping back. I’m almost certain she’s lying. Dominic doesn’t strike me as the type to flirt with coworkers, but the image she just planted lodges itself at the forefront of my mind, and it’s jarring. The thought of him touching her sends my heart into overdrive.
What if he does have feelings for her? What if they start dating? What if I have to see him with someone who isn’t me?
I hate all of it. Selfishly. Completely.
Why did he have to come back?
My eyes slit, sizing her up. “What did you say your name was again?”
Her lips curl into a snarl. “Talia.” She steps closer, trying to intimidate me it seems, but our height difference makes her attempt laughable. I tower over her by at least six inches, if not more. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from him.”
With that, she turns, joining a group of uniforms standing around chatting.
For a brief moment, I’m frozen. Was that an actual threat? From a cop no less. There are a lot of things I’ll let go, but not getting the last word isn’t one of them .
“Hey, Talia,” I call out. She turns her head, unable to hide the surprise in her expression.
“I’ll let Dominic know how lovely it’s been running into you. Tonight. When we’re in bed.”
I’ve crossed over into crazy ex territory and it’s not a good look. It’s been hours, and I still can’t stop thinking of what I told Morales. If it gets back to Dominic, he’s going to see it exactly for what it is—marking my territory. He’s not even my territory to mark.
I don’t know how to coexist with him when we’re nothing, but we’ve been everything .
“What do you think?” Layla, asks, showing me her right hand, freshly manicured.
I might’ve been inspired by the judgy clerk, because right after leaving the courthouse, I asked Layla if she was free for a manicure.
“Pretty,” I tell her, distracted.
She frowns, admiring the peachy pale-pink polish. “I wanted to go brighter, but it’s kind of frowned upon to wear polish while we’re in the program, so I had to keep it subtle.”
Shaking my head, I offer her a more genuine smile. “Sorry, no. It looks great, I just have a lot on my mind.”
Layla shrugs, not one to pry, and resumes watching one of the several TVs in the nail salon, each one playing daytime TV—a few talks shows, soap operas, game shows, and an old sitcom rerun.
“Did you hear about the dead body?” Layla asks, so casually you’d think she was talking about the weather.
My lips turn downward. “Please don’t tell me some nursing school cadaver story again.” An uncomfortable shiver works its way through me. I usually get squeamish whenever Layla talks about school. I cannot handle medical stuff.
Her eyes bulge, as if I’ve sprouted a second head. “You seriously haven’t heard? Do you live under a rock? It’s been all over the news.”
Since when does she watch the news? I never watch it. Occasionally, I’ll read an article in the paper to support Marisa, but I find the news depressing. It seems more and more, some crime happens, large enough to become another chapter in the history books. I’ve lived through more historical events than I can count and I’m not even thirty yet, it’s exhausting.
“Well, are you going to enlighten me or keep making me feel guilty for preferring to stay under the safety of my rock?”
Her chin lifts to the screen directly in front of us. It’s a commercial for the evening news airing later, showing Canyon Ridge. It’s been taped off with yellow crime scene tape and Ryker is standing in front of it, being interviewed by a reporter. The footage is dark, with a time stamp in the corner dated for yesterday.
It’s muted so I can’t hear what’s being said, but I can still put the pieces together. A missing woman, whose name sounds vaguely familiar, was found dead. The circumstances are suspicious enough the sheriff’s office has declared her death a result of homicide, and the investigation is ongoing.
My eyes find him before I even realize I’m searching for him. I can barely make Dominic out, but I know his form. He’s almost out of frame, hands tucked in his pockets while chatting with another deputy. His expression is tense, and the tension continues in his stance. Balled up fists, strained arms muscles, even his neck is fraught with tension.
“You know you don’t always have to undress him with your eyes.” Layla laughs, forcing me to blink.
I scrunch my nose at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Maybe if I play dumb, she’ll drop it.
“Mom said you left with him after that Sunday dinner he crashed.” She pins me with a look, wagging her brows.
Rolling my eyes, my focus returns to the manicurist as she freshens up my usual red polish. “You’re reaching. It was nothing, just a ride home.”
“You’re literally the worst liar. Just admit you still like him and get back together already. If you do it by next week, I win the bet.”
Snapping my neck, I turn to face her. “You guys already have a bet going?”
My siblings are always betting on something. Usually, I’m at the helm of it. Never thought I’d be the subject.
She snorts. “Fuck yeah, we’re betting. Do you even know us?”
We’re quiet for a stretch, me mulling over my siblings turning my love life into a money grab, Layla engrossed in some random soap opera.
“She had a stalker, you know?” Layla says out of nowhere.
“Who had a stalker?”
“Victoria. The victim.”
Oh, we’re back on that subject?
“Weird,” I tell her, disinterested.
“Yeah,” she continues. “I guess he started leaving her these weird notes on her car, then he started sending her flowers. Eventually he got braver and?—”
“Did you say notes on her car?”
Up until now, I’d convinced myself it was some kind of one off. Some prank from the interns. Now I’m not so sure.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Her mom was interviewed by some news station from Seattle. I listened to it while I was getting ready this morning.”
My stomach sinks.
One note doesn’t mean I have a stalker. Who the hell would want to stalk me, anyway? I barely have a social life. I’m boring.
It’s the interns. It’s definitely the interns.
I think I would know if I had a stalker.