26. Tell Me When I Get Home
Tell Me When I Get Home
Bree
H e was in my house, in my bathroom, while I was taking a shower.
The thought makes my skin crawl.
The rose petals bother me more than anything, though.
It’s stupid. He’s followed me, watched me, and tormented me. He’s been inside my house, taking photographs of me and who knows what else, but the rose petals, the candles, the music, that’s what turned my stomach because it’s as if he thinks this is romantic. Like, this isn’t just some sick game to him. He really thinks he’s wooing me, and that’s the scary part.
‘I don’t have my cell,’ I admit quietly, realizing I didn’t bring anything but myself to Arlo’s place, and he turns from the grill to look at me, sitting, my knees up to my chest on his patio sofa.
‘Do you need it?’
‘I just don’t want anyone to worry if they can’t get a hold of me.’ I hear the flat tone to my voice just as the first roll of thunder claps out overhead, and I look to the sky.
‘I’ll go.’ Arlo holds out the tongs he’s using on the grill. ‘Keep an eye on this for me. Beans, stay.’
The dog who hasn’t left my side since he found me curled up in a terrified ball on my back porch doesn’t even consider moving a muscle, and once again, I find myself impressed at how well-trained he seems to be. The rain starts to fall as Arlo disappears from his yard to mine, and I feel the tendrils of panic starting to unfurl at being alone. Standing, I try to take in the yard that’s disappearing into darkness as I approach the grill. He said it was no fuss, just grilling a couple of steaks, but as I turn the chicken legs, inhaling the scent of the sweet and smoky marinade, and stir the skillet of buttery fried potatoes, then rotate the corn, all cooking before the steaks have even been started, and I take in the freshly prepared salad and cornbread on the table, I see there isn’t anything simple about this, and I learn something new about Arlo Harper, he really likes to cook.
My stomach grumbles, and I note that it’s the hungriest I’ve felt in weeks, maybe even months. I’ve been so tired and scared recently that the thought of food just turned my stomach. I’ve pretty much been surviving on crackers and cookies to get me through.
It all looks and smells incredible, and I hope my stomach complies and allows me to actually eat some of it.
Movement in my peripheral has my grip tightening on the tongs in my hand, and I look up to see Arlo approaching, my duffle bag on his shoulder, which surprises me, and I step away from the grill as he steps up, glancing quickly to the food, making sure I didn’t fuck it all up.
‘You’re staying here, Bree.’ His eyes are hard, and his jaw is tight, and I know he saw the petals and it freaked him out too. ‘I got you some essentials.’ Handing me the duffle, Arlo takes the tongs and gets back to cooking, and I head back to the sofa, dropping my bag to the floor, then dipping my hand inside to find my cell. My hand lands on something unexpected, and I gasp. ‘I thought it might help you sleep.’ His attention is fixed on the food, but he knows my reaction means I just found the vibrator he packed. He packed me my toothbrush, underwear, PJs, clothes, extra sneakers, he even found some pre-moon cup pads and tampons and packed those, because, of course, he thought of that, and a fucking vibrator . ‘It’s not a big deal, Bree. I saw it and thought it might help.’
Swallowing hard, I grab my cell and drop the toy, then pick up my bottle of beer and gulp because suddenly, my throat is dry as fuck.
The rain hitting the ground raises up the scent of the grass and the earth, and I close my eyes to inhale. The food, the storm, and the man are an attack on my weakened senses. I’m too tired to deal with the emotions it all awakens, and I clear my throat as I stand.
‘Um, can I use the bathroom?’ I ask, my voice hoarse, and Arlo turns to glance at me.
‘You know where it is?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Knock yourself out.’
Bringing my bag inside, I carry it upstairs before realizing I don’t know which room I’m staying in, so I drop it next to the bathroom door.
I cool my heated cheeks and frayed nerves with a splash of cold water, then I take in my reflection. God, I look a mess. I have a smudge of leftover mascara that I forgot to take off before my shower under my tired eyes. The circles there are dark enough without the support act. Grabbing a washcloth, I wet it and wipe, noticing now that I lost weight in my face. My cheeks are drawn, and my skin looks pale despite my tan. My two braids are messy, unruly strays sticking out and up all over.
Pulling out my hair ties, I shake out the strands and turn in search of a hairbrush, finding a wide-toothed comb. I pull it through my long hair, wavy from the braids. I have nobody to impress. Arlo isn’t interested in me and is stuck with me in his space for the foreseeable future, so I really want to make myself as unnoticeable as possible. This will do.
Heading back downstairs, I stall as I reach the dining room and take in the sight out of the open back door. He’s sitting on the porch steps, Beans next to him, his hand slowly stroking down the length of the dog’s back. He loves that dog. I see it in the effort he’s put into his training, in the bond so evident between them. It makes my heart skip. In another life, this could be our home, our dog, a couple of decades of love and happiness shared. Instead, he can’t wait to get away from me. Swallowing hard, I approach, Beans alerting Arlo to my presence.
‘You ready to eat?’ he asks as he turns to me, then quickly looks away and I nod, yes. I’m ready.
W aking up in Arlo’s guest bedroom is a weird experience. The bed is so insanely comfortable that I managed to get a bit of sleep, but it was broken, waking at random intervals with the feeling and fear that I was being watched. I know I’m not. I wasn’t, not here in Arlo’s house. I know I’m safe here, but the fear is so deep in my bones at this point I don’t know that it will ever go away.
When I pick up my cell phone to check the time, my heart jumps, my stomach twisting at the sight of multiple messages from unknown.
Unknown : Breanne, I warned you. I’m not ready yet. I don’t have everything ready. Stop pushing me.
Unknown : I’m sorry. I don’t mean to lose my temper, I just, I love you. Please stick to the rules, princess.
Unknown : Stay in Forest Falls. Get away from that ogre. I can forgive your behavior up to now, but it has to stop.
Unknown : I want you out of that house today, Bree. Go home. If you stay there, you will push me to do something I will regret, and I don’t want that, sweetheart.
Unknown : You’ll ruin everything if you don’t stop.
Unknown : …
Unknown : Tell me you understand, Bree.
Unknown : You are testing my patience!
I stare at the phone in my hand, watching the messages roll in. Some of them words, threatening, warning, apologizing, and telling me how much I mean to him. Some of them emojis, some of them nothing more than an ellipsis, which I read as him waiting for me to get the message and respond, but I don’t. He’s unhinged, and according to Arlo, that’s exactly how we want him. It’s working, and I should be pleased with that, but tears prick my eyes as I curl my body around and hug my knees to my chest. I’m tired. I’m scared. I’m frustrated. I hate that Nolan is doing this to me, causing me this fear and panic, and I hate that I’m here with Arlo when he’s so far away. I could reach out and touch him, but he wouldn’t be there, not really. He won’t ever be there, and that is breaking me.
I never let him go.
I thought I did. I moved on. I set up my career and my home and had a fuck ton of casual sex before I started to try and fill the hole in my life, but now, being near him again, I know I never truly let him go.
He was arrested four weeks before my eighteenth birthday, almost exactly nineteen years ago, and watching him pinned to the hood of that van, then placed in a police cruiser, glaring at me with an expression I never understood, was the last I saw of him. I went to the police station, but they wouldn’t let me see him. I kept trying. I tried to go to his trial. I tried to visit him in prison. I tried to write to him. One of his brothers from the MC stopped me outside the courtroom, said Arlo didn’t want me there, and he wouldn’t let me in. I wasn’t allowed to visit him when he got locked away, and my letters came back unanswered. It made no sense to me, and it broke me. Then, my dad died, and I put Arlo in a locker at the back of my mind because my hero was gone. I didn’t have room to grieve two men, so I chose my dad and let Arlo go. Only I didn’t, not really, because, despite it all, I never stopped loving that man.
Nineteen Years Ago
‘B ree.’ My name sounded painful on his lips as his fingers gripped my thighs under the short fabric of my dress as I straddled his lap, but I didn’t stop.
Kissing his neck, I circled my hips, grinding down on the hardness behind the zipper I was reaching for.
‘Pix, you gotta stop.’
‘No, I don’t.’ I popped the button on his jeans, and his hands lightly gripped my wrists, making my shoulders slump. ‘Arlo, I don’t need something fancy. It’s not my first time. I just need you.’ I was breathless and needy, practically begging.
Arlo and I had been getting close for weeks now, and he was, without doubt in my mind, my soulmate. We’d made out a lot, got pretty damn handsy, we’d got each other off with our hands and mouths, and we craved each other when we were apart, but as much as I felt desperate to have sex with him, he wouldn’t do it.
‘Bree, you mean too much to me to be a quick fuck on a blanket somewhere or in my truck.’ I rolled my eyes. I’d heard this already, but in my horny state, I didn’t want to hear it again. ‘When you’re eighteen, and we can make this thing really official, I can have you in a bed, the way we’re supposed to, and believe me, I won’t let you up for air all night.’
He gripped the back of my neck and kissed the hell out of me, stealing the air from my lungs as his fingers slipped under the damp fabric between my thighs. That would do, I thought, for now, his perfect fingers would do just fine.
I wasn’t a virgin. Arlo knew that, and he definitely wasn’t. The age of consent in South Carolina was sixteen, but he still wanted to wait until I turned eighteen to take that next step. We couldn’t have sex in my grandma’s house, and there wasn’t a chance in hell he was taking me to his room at the club. He was determined that when we had sex for the first time, we would be naked, in a bed, with nowhere else to be, and I respected that. I did, but I also wanted him badly.
‘I never met a girl as horny as you.’ He chuckled as I climbed off his lap after catching my breath.
‘Woman,’ I corrected, and he smiled across toward me. We were in his truck. Not the van he spent his days inside but a pick-up truck he bought just so we could hang out inside it when we went out. ‘And it’s your fault. You start my engines, Arlo Harper. What can I say?’
Turning his attention to the view out of the front windscreen, he inhaled deeply and blew it out, and I knew that meant he was getting ready to tell me something serious.
‘What is it?’
He held out his hand for mine, and I slid along the bench seat, facing him, my legs crossed, my knees touching the side of his thigh, and he turned his head to find my eyes with his.
‘Bree, I—’ Oh god, was he breaking this off? My heart raced as I tried to school my features. ‘I have to tell you something, but I need you to be my girl right now, not the future cop, okay.’
I took a breath, knowing my instinct was to lay down the law but also knowing that I was involved with a man who walked on the other side of the line.
‘Okay.’
‘I want to be with you, for real, like, make a life with you.’ I sucked in a sharp breath. I knew this. We had never said those three little words, but I knew we both felt them. ‘Thing is, if I stay in the club, I can’t be with a cop. You know that.’ He was right. I did know that. ‘I would never, ever want you to give up your dreams.’ He interlaced our fingers and stroked his thumb back and forth on the back of my hand. ‘I never had any dreams, Bree, so I’m the one who has to give something up for this to work.’
No. All the pieces fell into place quickly, and I realized why he seemed so off. He was giving something up. He was leaving the club, and I knew what that meant. He had to pay a price to get out.
‘Arlo…’ his name was a whisper.
‘I told the prez I want out.’
My heart jumped in my chest, afraid of the price he’d have to pay. ‘What do you have to do?’
He turned to me, surprised for just a moment at my question before remembering that I was Miles Campbell’s daughter.
‘I can’t tell you, but I—’ Releasing my hand, Arlo reached up to cup my cheek and look directly into my eyes. ‘I’m going to be away for a few days. When I’m back, I’ll be free and all yours, but I need you to hang tight for me, okay?’
‘What do you have to do, Arlo?’
‘Bree, I can’t…’
‘Yes, you can. You know I’m not some little princess, and you know you can trust me. I understand how this works, so tell me.’
‘Pix,’
‘I know what my dad did. He never told me, but I pieced it together with news reports and timelines. Who do you have to…’
‘I don’t!’ He shook his head and pulled my forehead to his. ‘I don’t have to kill anybody, pix.’ Pulling back, he took a breath while he regarded me, seemingly deciding whether he wanted to tell me or not, before leaning in to kiss me once, then twice. ‘The club has a weapons deal. They trade weapons, usually just in South Carolina, and the buyer or seller figures out the issue of getting them over state lines.’ I sucked in a breath, anticipating what was coming. ‘We have a big shipment coming in. It’s being brought here. I need to meet it and move them out.’
‘To where?’
‘Texas.’
‘No.’ I shook my head. My voice was firm. If he got caught… No, he couldn’t do this.
‘Bree.’
‘No, Arlo. It’s too dangerous. You could get caught or hurt. I can’t lose you.’
‘I won’t get caught or hurt. All I have to do is drive.’
‘Across state lines with a large shipment of illegal firearms.’
‘That’s cop Bree talking.’ He glared, warning, and I snapped.
‘No, you asked me to be your girl, and that’s what I’m doing. I’m scared, Arlo, because I cannot lose you.’
He inhaled deeply, shaking his head as he blew it out before reaching out to grab my waist and pull me back into his lap.
‘I don’t have a choice, Bree. I asked what my price was to leave the club, and this is it. It’s not negotiable.’
‘Then don’t leave,’ I whined. ‘I won’t become a cop. I’ll be with you at the club. I don’t care as long we’re together, and you’re safe. I’ll do anything to stop you from doing this, risking your life, please, baby.’
‘It’s too late. Besides, I don’t want you anywhere near that goddam shithole.’
He reached up to push my long hair behind my ear while I absorbed all that he’d said. He was doing this. I knew there was nothing I could do to stop him, and I knew he was doing it for me, for us, but I couldn’t stand it.
‘When?’ I asked quietly.
‘Tomorrow.’
I gasped, squeezing my eyes closed.
‘What time?’
‘I’m meeting the shipment at five am.’
He was giving me the information freely now, which I knew meant he trusted me to keep this to myself, and that gutted me. Knowing he was doing this and that if anything went wrong, I would know exactly what happened but not be able to talk to anybody about it. I hated that.
‘Where?’ I met his gaze with my watery eyes as his thumb stroked my cheek.
‘Right here.’
Turning to look out of the window at this spot that had become so special to us, I released a sob. I was afraid. I didn’t want him to do this.
‘Don’t do this, baby, please.’ I pleaded, and he brought my mouth to his.
‘Just a few days, pix, then it’s just me and you.’
His words against my lips before he kissed me like his life depended on it didn’t feel like goodbye and that confirmed in my mind what I had to do.
‘Arlo.’ He pulled back, giving me a little space to talk. ‘I lo…’
‘No—’ He cut me off, smiling softly. ‘Tell me when I get home.’