Chapter 9
CHAPTER
NINE
TESSA
The second Logan walks out the door, I feel Layla’s eyes on me.
I don’t look at her. I can’t. Instead, I focus on the next customer in line—a middle-aged man in a suit who orders a black coffee—and go through the motions. Smile. Ring him up. Pour his drink. Hand it over.
“Tessa.”
Layla’s voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it.
“Not now,” I murmur, already reaching for the next cup.
“Tessa,” she says again, more firmly this time.
I glance at her. She’s staring at the trash can beside the register. At the crumpled napkin sitting on top.
My heart sinks.
“What was that?” she asks.
“Nothing.”
“That didn’t look like nothing.”
“Layla, please.” My voice cracks slightly, and I hate myself for it. “Can we just… not do this right now?”
She studies me for a long moment, her jaw tight. Then she nods once and turns back to the next customer in line.
We work in silence for the next twenty minutes, moving around each other with practiced ease. The line eventually dwindles, and the last customer leaves.
She blows out a long breath. “We’re taking a break.” She walks over to the trash can, reaches in, and pulls out the crumpled napkin.
“Layla, don’t—”
She smooths it out on the counter, reading the words I already know by heart.
Layla’s face hardens. “Tessa.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Really?” She holds up the napkin. “Because what I think is that Logan just gave you his number and told you he can keep you safe. Which means he knows something is wrong.”
I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “He doesn’t know anything.”
“Bullshit.” Layla’s voice is sharp now. “Do you have new bruises?”
I don’t answer.
“Tessa.” She steps closer, her expression softening. “How bad is it?”
“It’s fine.”
“Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are.” She gestures to my arms, my covered skin. “You’re always lying. To me. To yourself. And for what? To protect him?”
“It’s complicated,” I whisper.
“No, it’s not.” Layla’s eyes fill with tears, and it guts me. “He’s hurting you. And you deserve better than that.”
I look away, blinking hard against the burn in my own eyes. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
I can’t. I can’t put into words the fear that lives in my chest every single day.
The way Preston’s voice echoes in my head even when he’s not there.
The certainty that if I try to leave, he’ll find me and kill me.
If not me, someone else. He could hurt Logan or Layla.
He wouldn’t stop until he had what was his, and in his mind, that’s me.
“I threw the napkin away for a reason,” I say quietly.
“Why?”
“Because keeping something like that around Preston would be too dangerous.” My voice breaks on his name. “If he found it… if he saw Logan’s number…”
I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t have to.
Layla’s face pales. “Tessa, you can’t keep living like this.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Yes, you do.” She grabs my hand, squeezing tight. “You always have a choice.”
I pull my hand away, wrapping my arms around myself. “You don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
“Then tell me.”
I shake my head.
“Tessa—”
“He’d come after me,” I say, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “If I left. If I tried to get help. He’d find me. He always said he would. And I believe him.”
Layla’s jaw clenches. “So what? You’re just going to stay with him forever?”
“I don’t know.” My voice is barely a whisper. “I just… I need to be smart about this. I can’t just run. I have to have a plan.”
“Okay.” Layla nods, her expression determined. “So let’s make a plan.”
“Layla—”
“I’m serious. You and me. We’ll figure this out. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Tears spill down my cheeks before I can stop them. “I can’t drag you into this.”
“You’re not dragging me into anything. I’m already in it.” She pulls me into a hug, and I collapse against her, sobbing quietly into her shoulder. “You’re my best friend, Tess. I’m not going to let him keep hurting you.”
I want to believe her. I want to trust that there’s a way out. But even as she holds me and whispers promises that everything will be okay, I can’t shake the cold certainty settling in my bones.
Preston will never let me go.
Not without a fight.
The bell above the door chimes, and we both jump apart.
I wipe my eyes quickly, turning toward the entrance. My blood runs cold.
Preston stands in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, wearing that calm, controlled smile that makes my skin crawl.
“Hey, babe,” he says, his voice smooth. “Thought I’d surprise you and take you to lunch.”
Layla stiffens beside me, but I force myself to smile. “That’s sweet. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” His eyes flick to Layla, then back to me. “But I had a break in my meetings and thought, why not?”
He steps farther into the shop, his gaze sweeping over the empty space. “Slow day?”
“Just one of those weird lulls,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. Snatching up Logan’s note, I crumple the napkin and toss it into the trash.
Preston walks over to the counter, leaning against it casually. His brows furrow. “Have you been crying?”
My body tenses, and my mouth goes dry as I internally panic.
“Yes,” Layla answers, her voice cheerful. “She accidentally broke one of the old coffee machines, and she felt bad about it. But the owners were going to replace it anyway, so it kinda works out.”
“The owners are back from their vacation?” Preston narrows his eyes, his tone sharp.
Layla looks at me and back to Preston.
I chime in. “Not yet but I think they’re getting back this week.”
“Yeah, probably sometime this week,” Layla corroborates my lie.
Preston looks at the pair of us like we’re idiots. “You’d think you’d know when your bosses are returning.”
“One would think.” Layla forces a laugh.
“Well, the second they get back, you’re talking to them. Right?” Preston asks me.
I nod. “Of course.”
Layla looks at me, confused.
My heart hammers in my chest. I’m desperate to get Preston out of here before Bob or Joyce decides to pop in for a visit.
“So,” I say, my forced tone light, “lunch?”
“Yeah,” he says.
I glance at Layla. Her jaw is tight, her eyes hard. “Do you mind if I take off for a bit?”
“Of course she doesn’t,” Preston scoffs. “Look around. You hardly need both of you here.”
Layla plasters on a smile. “Of course. Go. Eat. I can handle everything here.”
“Great. Let me just grab my purse.” I walk toward the back room, my legs shaking with every step.
All I can think about is that note in the garbage and how quickly I need to distance Preston from it.
The part of my brain that lives in reality knows he isn’t just going to go rummaging through the trash can behind the counter.
But the part of my brain that survives in fear wants to get him out of here as soon as possible.
There’s no way Preston knows that one of the stars of his favorite hockey team gave me his number and wants me to run away with him. Of course he doesn’t know. If he did, he’d be in a fit of rage, tearing this place apart.
The note exists only in the minds of me, Layla, and Logan. Soon, it will be decomposing among the rest of the trash in some dump somewhere. Yet its mere existence—and the very chance, however small, that Preston could find out—terrifies me.
I grab my purse and head out to meet him, already knowing I’ll wish I’d held on to that number someday.