Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
I don’t even know what’s happened to Gretchen, the woman falling so silent that I worry she might have perished behind me.
I currently don’t have it in me to check just yet, slapping a hand over my chest where my heart beats rapidly beneath my rib cage.
Blowing out a deep breath, doing my best to steady my frazzled self, I stare at Ryan and declare, “You need to come with bells attached to your feet.”
“I did knock,” he innocently argues, pointing at the door as though that would help his case. “Three times, in fact.”
Zeke coughs, disguising a sudden bubble of laughter, and Jolie turns her face away to hide her amusement. Still don’t know where Gretchen is, but that’s the least of my problems.
“I also called your cell twice,” Ryan adds, pointing at my cell that I have facedown on the desk.
I grimace, because I’m pretty sure it’s on silent after the shoot earlier, because I didn’t hear a single call come through. Not that that’s saying much, because I apparently didn’t hear three knocks on the door, either.
“Do I want to know what you guys were doing that had you so absorbed with a computer screen that you lost sense of everything around you?” Ry queries, his expression now turning from one of surprise to amusement.
Sighing, I sink into my chair, my head bumping the back of something hard and relentless that moves suddenly. Oh, good. Gretchen isn’t dead. Just stood frozen behind me. That’s totally normal. At least she didn’t drop her tablet in the greatest scare of our lives.
“We were looking for space in my schedule for me to comfortably book that two-week vacation I won. It’s a challenging task given how occupied my work life is, and as you can see, it took four of us to figure it out.
We managed it before you almost snuffed our lives out by silently sneaking in here like a ghoul,” I answer, rubbing my face and hoping it isn’t as red as the others’.
I hear Ryan take a seat and peek at him through my fingers, finding his charming face still amused.
He eyes the others lingering in the room, the atmosphere turning awkward now that he’s just successfully terrified four people into huddling in fear, and I can’t help the ridiculous laugh that slips through the cracks of my fingers.
“Guys, you can leave,” I tell Jolie, Zeke, and Gretchen, and I’ve never seen them move so fast in all the years I’ve known them.
They’ve gathered their things and are out the door in a single file before I can lower my hand from my face, the door shutting behind them with a soft click.
Chuckling at the absurdity of the past five minutes, I blink at the door before turning my focus back to Ryan. “Hi. How’s your day treating you?”
Ryan chuckles, that smooth buttery sound that makes my insides tingle, and he says, “It’s going. I wanted to know if you’d care to have lunch with me. I figured you probably haven’t eaten properly yet.”
Sure enough, he eyes the half-eaten cup of fruit still on my desk, and I give him my best “aw shucks” look that doubles the amusement on his face. Before he decides to lecture me about nutrition like Caid has done before, I say, “Lunch would be beautiful. Are you ready now?”
Ry nods. “Ready when you are, trouble.”
So, without further delays or jump scares, I gather my purse and follow Ryan out of the building.
All the while, I find myself growing distracted once more, my eyes glued to his ass as he walks.
Mentally, I admit once more that I’m no better than a man, but it’s simply impossible to look away.
So, while we walk toward the car, I make peace with my filthy thoughts and take in the view as God intended.
I mean, they wouldn’t have given him an ass like that if it weren’t meant to be ogled, right?
“I’ve never had more aggressively sad fries in all my life,” I murmur, sounding as offended as I feel, though I realize I’ve probably been spoiled after the feast I finally got to eat yesterday. Well, half of it, at least.
Ryan grins as though he finds me entertaining, but I shake my head.
“I’m serious. These are fries that have given up on life. The potatoes must have been depressed before they went in the fryer or something,” I complain, eyeing the poor, pale slices of undercooked potatoes and feeling sorry for them.
Ryan snorts into his drink. “You’re so dramatic. The fries are fine.”
“If you consider fries that look like they’ve spent the last six months socially distancing themselves from society fine, then by all means, you eat them,” I counter, glaring at the plate like it’s offended my ancestors and their ancestors.
“You literally just described me,” Ryan jokes, and I roll my eyes.
“That’s different. You’re hot. You’re allowed to be pale,” I deadpan.
Ry chokes on his lemonade before he sputters a laugh, and I flash him a victorious grin, completely unbothered by the fact that I almost killed him in the middle of a diner at one in the afternoon. Just casual things, you know?
The place hums softly with steady conversation from several patrons sitting at different booths, the clinking of cutlery adding to the soundtrack of our lunch. Light spills through the window we’ve been seated by, the sunlight catching against the salt and pepper shakers between Ry and me.
It’s cozy and relaxed, and I mentally acknowledge how my mind switches off when I’m around these guys. My shoulders don’t ache as much, my brain isn’t moving at a hundred miles per hour, and Ryan is looking at me like he’s never known a funny woman in all his life.
“I still think we should sue,” I repeat, lowering my voice as I carefully lean over my double-stacked burger that is slathered in cheese and crispy onions. At least that doesn’t look anemic. Silver linings, am I right?
“For what? Emotional damage?”
I shake my head. “Culinary crimes. Is that a thing?”
“I don’t think so,” Ryan snickers, stealing two of the fries because apparently theft is legal now.
Just as I open my mouth to respond, my hand suspended in the air and ready to swat Ryan’s hand away, the diner door chimes and every muscle in my body locks in place when I spy the figure that walks in.
Ryan notices instantly, his eyes flicking over his shoulder where I stare with my heart sinking into the pits of my stomach.
Toby fucking Moore.
He looks terrible, standing in the sunlight and looking paler than I’ve ever seen him.
He doesn’t look bad enough to satisfy me completely, but enough that it’s clear there’s something wrong with him.
His clothes are slightly wrinkled, and his usually immaculately styled hair is messy as though he’s been dragging his hands through it constantly.
Shadowed bruises sit beneath his eyes, which isn’t surprising given the ungodly hours he’s been spamming me with texts and photos and emails.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, there’s something twitchy about him, like he’s filled with a restless energy that vibrates under his skin while he scans the diner.
I already know he’s looking for me, and the table Ryan and I are sitting at isn’t big enough for me to hide under this time, so I can do nothing but stare back when his eyes meet mine.
Stomach dropping, I swallow hard just as Ryan goes still in his seat. He’s not tense, exactly, just kind of alert in a quiet way I’ve learned means he’s very aware of his surroundings and is paying close attention to every move Toby makes.
My ex doesn’t drop his eyes the moment they meet mine. They stay exactly where they are, bypassing Ryan entirely, that wrongness spilling from him in waves. He looks as though he hasn’t slept in weeks, like something inside him is unraveling, and an unpleasantly cold feeling slithers down my spine.
“Man,” I mutter with an irritated huff. I reach for my purse as I prepare to leave, Ryan having already finished his burger. “There goes my appetite.”
“Ready to go?” Ry asks, never hesitating, and I nod quickly.
Neither of us acknowledge Toby when we stand, Ryan’s hand settling on my lower back as he guides us through the diner. We’re heading for the door Toby has just shuffled from, and he shifts slightly as though he’s about to approach.
Ryan only glances at him once, a look that isn’t aggressive or hostile on his face, but apparently there’s something there that makes Toby second-guess himself. He pauses long enough to let Ryan and me pass, and tension crackles in the space between us.
I feel like I can breathe again when we reach Ryan’s car, and I blow out a heavy breath. “Jesus Christ, that guy.”
“You okay?” Ry asks as he starts the engine.
I’m nodding just as he pulls onto the road, staring out the window and trying very hard not to think about Chode more than I have to.
It’s very obvious he knew where I’d be, still somehow finding ways to trace me despite me changing my cell and number.
I shouldn’t be surprised, but a part of me wonders how he keeps managing it.
We’re halfway back to the studio when my phone rings, and I fish through my purse for it. Mom’s name flashes on the screen, and I answer immediately.
“Hey, Mom,” I answer, putting a little more energy in my voice.
“Hey, baby. How’re you doing?” she asks, though there’s something a little hesitant about her voice.
Looking over at Ryan, I frown and shake my head at his questioning glance, answering Mom. “I’m good. Is everything okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”
“Well, I just wanted to ask if you were keeping in contact with Toby,” she wonders, and my stomach drops instantly.
“I’m only asking because he paid us a visit yesterday.
Your father and I weren’t home, but the cameras tracked him pulling up outside and then walking to the front door. He waited a while before he left.”
I pause. “Wait, security let him through?”
“Apparently,” she answers, sounding as baffled as I am, because if anyone other than my best friends knows about the shitshow Toby put me through, it’s my mom.
She knows better than almost anyone how I feel about that guy, so her asking if I’m keeping in contact with him seems so alien to me.
“I’m pretty sure you guys didn’t end on good terms, and the last we spoke, you were praying the guy caught a bucket full of STIs that I’ve never even heard of. So, what’s going on, baby?”
Knowing I can’t keep it from her forever, I groan before reluctantly spilling the details, Ryan listening in silently as he navigates us back to Static. It doesn’t take very long to explain everything to Mom, who listens intently from the other end of the phone right down to my very last sentence.
When I’m done sharing the drama, she sighs deeply. “Well, this one turned into a clusterfuck, huh?”
Shocked laughter bursts out of me, startling Ryan, and I slap a hand over my mouth. “Definitely a clusterfuck, Mom. Where did you even learn that?”
“I’m on the internet too, baby. I’m old, but not that old,” she volleys, and I relax in my seat, instantly soothed by one conversation with my mama. “Anyway, back on topic. What are the police doing?”
“A whole lot of nothing right now,” I answer, just as impressed now as I was yesterday after my latest visit to the station.
“I’ll call them tomorrow to let them know he’s disturbing you and Dad, though.
The more evidence I get, I think the bigger the case I’ll have against him.
They won’t be able to ignore it if I provide more evidence that he’s lost his mind. ”
“All right, baby. If there’s anything you need from Dad or me, you call straight away, okay?” Mom demands, and I nod even though she can’t see it.
“You got it, Mom,” I tell her, smiling as she hums through the phone. “Just make sure you let me know if he shows up again. And tell security not to let him into the neighborhood. It wouldn’t surprise me if he tried to show up on your doorstep again.”
“I’ll call them as soon as we hang up,” she assures. “Just be safe, baby. I wish you’d move back home. I hate that you don’t live with me anymore.”
She says it like I haven’t been living on my own since I was seventeen.
Not that I didn’t love spending time with my parents, but they were gone for work so much that I practically had the house to myself by the time I hit sixteen.
And then I found my career calling and I was out of the house just as much as they were.
“I’ll visit more often, I promise. Let me know when’s good for you and Dad next,” I swear.
I hear the smile in her voice when she replies. “You’ve got yourself a date, baby. Now I’m going to go explain everything to your father, so brace yourself for the text messages he’s going to send you. Sorry in advance. Love you, Maddie.”
I huff a laugh. “Love you, too, Mom.”
The line goes dead the next moment, and I send Ryan a smile. “Did you hear any of that?”
“I caught the drift. I’m glad your mom knows about everything,” he gently tells me, and I hum in agreement.
The rest of the drive to Static is done in comfortable silence. Just as we park and I’m about to climb out of the car, Ryan stops me with a hand on my arm and promises, “Everything will be all right, trouble. We have you.”
My smile is warm and full of emotion as I nod. “I know.”
And, just like that, my worries fade into the distance and I go straight back to work, Ryan hanging out in the lounge until the end of the workday. By the time I’m done with work, I’m exhausted, ready to sleep, and more than appreciative when Ryan drives us home.