Chapter 6
I was expecting a massive I told you so lecture when I finally arrived home that night, but Lainey wasn’t there.
Then again, it was probably for the best considering the smeared makeup and puffy eyes from my sob session on the drive home would’ve been a massive indicator that I hadn’t had the best first day. And I didn’t need Lainey running to Asher, telling him I couldn’t handle the people at his company.
I could. I just needed to be more prepared for them. And tomorrow, I would be.
It was just that nothing could’ve prepared me for today.
Ada leaving me without a clue as to what I was supposed to do or how. Beau Evans paging my desk phone sporadically throughout the day, only to irritably sigh each time and say, “Never mind, you’re not Ada,” before clicking off. Adam Thatcher glaring at me each time I’d had to pass through the main office and asking, “You haven’t quit yet, Bubbles?” Then his mumbled, “Don’t bother coming back tomorrow,” as he’d left for the day. And Hudson Gray hitting on me no less than a dozen times—not that it had truly bothered me past the point of getting old by the end of the day. But even if I hadn’t been sure he used his smooth pickup lines and charming flirtation on every woman he came across, it wouldn’t have mattered because I’d been tormented by a pair of angry, amber eyes before another message had come through from the same unknown contact as yesterday.
We need to talk.
That’s all it had said, but it’d stolen every part of my focus for the last couple hours of my workday. Not that I’d responded, but still...it was Owen, reaching out again after I’d successfully gotten over him.
The last thing I needed now, or ever, was Owen Vance trying to talk to me because I already knew how easily I could fall for his lies. But on a day like today, when I was already so emotional and vulnerable? I was sure I couldn’t handle that unnaturally powerful magnetism he used to draw people in.
My phone chimed once I’d slipped into an oversized shirt and leggings, the sound making my steps falter on my way to the bathroom so I could remove what was left of my makeup and wash my face.
But as I slowly lifted my phone, a heaving breath rushed from my lungs when I saw who the message was from.
Unlocking my phone, I quickly read through the texts and tapped out a response.
Lainey Pearson
I’ll be at Asher’s until later, but I’m dying to know how today went!
It went! I think I’m getting the hang of it and those terribly gorgeous men.
I’d just entered the bathroom when her next messages came through.
Lainey Pearson
Ha! I’ll be sure to keep that last bit from Asher, but I’m so glad.
Aunt Ada knows how to frustrate, overstep, and push buttons, but it somehow always seems to work out.
“Right,” I mumbled to myself as I thought over the day. Considering I still only knew how to answer the phone and enter messages into their messaging system, I wasn’t sure anything was working out yet.
Still, I forced that happiness I so easily donned into my words as I replied.
She sure is something! Love her! Pretty sure I want to be her when I grow up.
Have fun with your man and that adorable little girl. See you later!
Setting my phone down, I ignored the knot in my stomach as I hurried to wash my face, hoping to scrub the image of mesmerizing eyes and an angry scowl from my mind as well.
It truly made no sense for Adam Thatcher’s ridiculously handsome face to be plaguing me the way it had been all day. He hated me—that was clear. It didn’t matter that I thought he was being dramatic for reacting so strongly to our unfortunate encounter when he’d first walked into the office this morning, the animosity was real and undeniable. And yet, I’d thought of him for most of my day and had found myself wishing he’d been the one leaning against the desk, flirting with me, instead of Hudson.
“Ridiculous,” I whispered as I finished drying my face.
It was bad enough that I’d fallen hopelessly in love with a married man. I didn’t need to start falling for one who hated me simply for existing.
With a self-admonishing sigh, I left the bathroom and headed for a long, deserved night on the couch, stopping in the dining-room-turned-library as I did. Scanning the floor-to-ceiling shelves, I reached for one of my favorite books, needing the comfort tonight, then turned just as the doorbell rang.
I gripped the book tighter as if it might slip from my fingers but simply stood there for long seconds, staring in the direction of the entryway, as my heart pounded against my ribs.
It could’ve been anyone—my parents, a salesperson, Han Solo, anyone —but with every strained beat of my heart, I knew it wasn’t just anyone . That text this afternoon had a tiny voice screaming over the warning bells in my head that Owen Vance was standing outside my door.
A little jolt went through me when another chime sounded through the house, followed by a few raps of knuckles against the door. And then I was moving, telling myself over and over there was still a slim chance it could be someone else, all while knowing I was giving into that Owen Vance pull without even seeing him.
My hand shook as I reached for the doorknob, and then a breath rushed from me when I opened the door to find him standing there. Just as handsome and devastating and awful as I remembered.
In an instant, icy fingers trailed up my spine and grabbed tight, leaving me cold and nauseous, and wishing I could fall into his arms.
“Chlo . . .”
“I told you I’d get a restraining order,” I reminded him, voice barely more than a breath.
Owen’s head shook as if letting me know I wouldn’t do that. “We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I informed him and took a step back to shut the door, but he pushed forward so he was standing partially inside the house, blocking me from shutting him out.
“I left her.”
The demand for him to back up died on my lips, and for a long while, I just stared at him.
Some foolish part of me reacted to the news. Some terrible part of me was happy and wondering what this meant for us . But that wasn’t a part of myself I could revisit ever again. It wasn’t a part of myself I wanted to revisit.
My head shook slowly at first, then more quickly. “You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re lying,” I repeated through clenched teeth. “And I don’t care. I don’t care because we’re done. We’ve been done, Owen. I shouldn’t have to keep telling you this.”
“Don’t say that,” he crooned as he crowded in closer, easily slipping a hand around my waist and pulling me against him.
I’m not sure what it said about me that I instinctively swayed toward him all while my stomach lurched as if I might throw up on him right then, but I finally managed to shove my book against his chest—pushing against him when he tightened his hold.
“Don’t say that when I left her for you,” he continued in a tone that had my arms weakening because that tone had always gotten to me.
I would’ve done anything for that tone. I had done anything for that tone.
That tone made me feel like I was the only person in his world. Like I hung the moon and stars each night. Like I was his everything when I never had been.
Funny how I’d never understood why he’d chosen me of all people when it’d been blatantly obvious he could have his pick of women, only to find out that I’d just been one of many...
“You said you were divorced before we ever got together,” I reminded him, the words coming out weak and dejected when I’d meant to spit them at him with all the malice I truly felt for this man. “We would’ve never been anything if I would’ve known you were still married—happily, according to her.”
“I messed up,” he said, the raw anguish in his voice making me go still. “I messed up, Chlo, I know that. But I can’t lose you.”
For one horrible moment, I believed him.
Until I felt that chill still clinging to my spine. Until I once again took notice of the churning of my stomach.
“You’re such a liar,” I whispered, my eyes pricking with fresh tears. When he started arguing, I shoved him harder, trying to get him away from me. “Not that I believe you’ve left your wife for a second, but even if you have, what about all the other women you were seeing on the side?”
His head slanted and his brow furrowed, once again mastering that look of confusion and innocence. “Other—what other women?”
“Don’t,” I begged, the word thick as emotion clogged my throat. “Don’t. I know you!”
“You do know me,” he agreed as I continued over him.
“I know what you’ve been doing and how you’ve been lying to all of us—manipulating all of us.”
Hurt that looked so, so genuine tore across his features, making me question myself for all of a second. But I’d already promised myself to never be fooled by this man again.
“Get out.”
“Chloe,” he began, my name leaving him on a breath that was at once wounded and confused and miserable. As always with him, it was such a perfect combination that it had me aching for him despite my assuredness that he was playing me. “I don’t know what you think you know, but since I met you, it’s only been you.”
He lifted a hand to stop me from arguing, then let it fall to my cheek even when I tried jerking my face away. “Again, I know I messed up, but I didn’t know how to leave my wife before. But there was no one other than you when we were together, and she and I really are done now.”
I used my book to swat his arm away when his fingers drifted to my jaw and then my neck, then shoved the hardback against his chest again. Not that he moved an inch. “You’re good,” I told him as the tears finally built and fell. “But you’ve always been good at making me believe anything. Unfortunately for you, I’ve seen the real you, and you can’t make me fall for your?—”
A sharp sound of protest rose in my throat when he crushed his mouth to mine, trying to silence me. Trying to remind me what we were like. Trying to fool me once again.
Not long before, I’d been thinking I wouldn’t be strong enough to survive him because of how emotional and vulnerable I already was from the day. But that only made my frustration burn hotter. It only made my resolve strengthen as I finally succeeded in shoving him away.
“Get out,” I cried, then reached for the door.
Before I’d managed to press the book against the wooden surface to shut the door, he took another large step forward, bemusement forming a crease between his eyebrows. “But you asked me to come,” he said so convincingly that I nearly wondered if I had.
But then he reached for me again, and without thinking, my palm connected with his cheek in a slap so powerful that my hand instantly tingled and burned from the impact.
Shock and anger flared in Owen’s eyes as his jaw worked a few times before that charming look settled over his features again, ready to make everyone around him fall in love with him. “If this is why you asked me here, I get it,” he said in that liquid gold voice, his words filled with understanding. “I deserve your anger, and you deserve more time to heal from what I did to you.”
“I don’t want time, and I never asked you to come here,” I told him as he turned to leave. “I told you I’d get a restraining order against you, and I meant it.”
He shrugged as he looked back at me, that million-dollar smile fixed on his face. “You haven’t filed one yet, and you won’t.” His stare drifted over me in a way that felt far too intimate, especially considering my handprint was on his cheek, and I’d just repeatedly called him a liar between telling him we were over. “I’d like to see what happens if you try though.”
At that, the chill clinging to my spine burst through the rest of my body.
With a wink that had my stomach churning even more, he said, “See you soon, Chlo,” and turned to leave.
I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure I could as I replayed those words about the restraining order over and over again while finally closing and locking the door. On shaky legs, I moved through the house, letting the book slip from my fingers once I made it into my room.
It didn’t matter that it was just after six, or that I hadn’t eaten since this morning. I was so emotionally drained and shaken after the day, that I climbed into my bed and waited for sleep to claim me.
I startled awake, my heart racing when I realized someone was simultaneously ringing the bell and knocking on the door.
Scrambling for my phone, I flinched away from the brightness of the screen, then blinked quickly before squinting to see the time, wondering how it was only nine that same evening, when it felt like I’d slept for days.
Gripping my phone in my hand, I unsteadily got out of bed and staggered down the hallway a bit before gaining my bearing as I hurried toward the incessant sound of a fist hitting my door. But the instant I set foot in my living room, I faltered, worried that Owen had returned. That his parting words of, “See you soon, Chlo,” had been literal.
But that was ridiculous, right? He hadn’t...he wouldn’t . And especially not this way, with this loud, aggressive knocking that never seemed to end.
Just as I started wondering if there was a more sinister reason behind the knocking— I probably shouldn’t have watched that serial killer documentary with Lainey— a wheeze of a laugh left me when I finally woke up enough to remember my neighbor.
With his imaginative words and lack of clothing whenever his mastiff made its semiweekly escape from home, he didn’t care who he bothered if he thought the dog was in their yard. He also wasn’t subtle when trying to get anyone’s attention. Loud, persistent banging and ringing doorbells were right up his alley.
Still, as I neared the door, I jolted and barely managed to bite back a scream when the bell sounded two more times. And by the time I was flipping the deadbolt, I had nine-one-one dialed and my thumb hovering over the call button.
Grabbing the handle, I cracked the door open before opening it wider with a start when I saw the police officer standing there.
“Ma’am,” the man said when I just stared blankly at him.
“H-hi,” I said awkwardly, then gave my head a little shake in an attempt to clear it and to put my best self forward. “I’m sorry— hi . How can I help you?”
“I need you to come with me.” When a bemused sound burst from me, he added, “There’s a warrant out for your arrest.”
“Excuse me?” I asked, the words a choked laugh because— just...what? “I think you have the wrong person.”
“Chloe Whitlock,” he said, making my stomach drop when he held out a piece of paper that had all my information and a picture of me on it, smiling like everything in the world was my absolute favorite and not like I had a warrant out for my arrest .
Something stirred in the back of my mind after the brief glance I got of that photo, because I knew that photo, but I was so dumbfounded that this was happening, that I kind of just stood there for a second before staggering back when he reached for me.
“It’d really be better for you if you came compliantly.”
“W-what—what’s the warrant for?” I asked, holding my hand out like I was about to stop an actual police officer.
“Miss Whitlock, if you’d just?—”
“I’ve never even been pulled over,” I began, my words rushed and harried. “I’m afraid to speed. I’ve never littered. I just don’t—” The ramble broke off when I noticed the places where the badge and name should be on the officer’s tactical vest were nothing more than Velcro cut-outs of the same shapes.
I froze in place as I zeroed in on the most innocent and deeply concerning things I’d ever witnessed, and realized at that exact moment where I knew that picture from.
It was my school ID photo.
That chill I’d become all too familiar with whenever Owen was near stole down my spine and made my stomach roll.
“Chloe Whitlock, you’re under arrest,” the officer began again.
“You aren’t telling me what the warrant’s for,” I said shakily as I managed to step back. Gripping the door with one hand, I tapped on the screen until the call to nine-one-one was going through. “Don’t you have to tell me what it’s for?”
“We’ll discuss that?—”
I slammed the door and flipped the deadbolt, putting all my weight against the door and lifting the phone just as the dispatcher finished asking what my emergency was.
“There’s a man outside my door,” I told the woman. “He’s dressed in a police uniform, but he doesn’t have a badge or name. He’s telling me I have a warrant out for my arrest, but won’t tell me what for.”
“Okay, ma’am,” the woman said in a calm voice. “Can you tell me your name and location?”
My body trembled as I backed away from the door until I was pressed against the adjacent wall. I slid down it as I spoke with the dispatcher and fought tears when she assured me I didn’t have any warrants and the names of the real officers she was sending to me.
After talking with the deputies that showed, I nearly called Lainey a dozen times to see when she’d be home. Feeling like I needed to tell someone close to me about what happened and see if maybe Asher would stay at our house for the night...at least.
But my problems were my own. They always had been. This couldn’t be any different.
Besides, I had a feeling that man wouldn’t have been at my door if Lainey had been there. I had an even worse feeling he wouldn’t have shown if Owen hadn’t been there hours before.
“You haven’t filed one yet, and you won’t. I’d like to see what happens if you try though.”
Owen’s words floated through my mind from where I sat in my bed, pressed against the headboard, cradling my knees to my chest.
Did it make any sense for the fake police officer to be connected to Owen? Not at all. But the alternative that some random person had chosen hermit-y me—for...what? An abduction? A murder?—made even less sense.
Did I think Owen would go to those extreme lengths to scare me away from filing a restraining order? Or even to force me back to him?
My body jolted when a chime sounded, and I slowly looked over at where my phone rested near my feet. Scooping it up, my heart beat harder and faster when I saw the preview of the message I’d just received.
Unknown
I miss having you in my arms.
Did I think Owen would do that? Yes. Yes, I did.