Chapter 17
CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN
LOGAN
Yesterday was a long, exhausting day for everyone involved—but probably most of all for Tessa. After the girls left last night, she showered and went straight to bed.
She woke up screaming around two in the morning. The sound was heartbreaking. I stayed with her until she fell back asleep, sitting on the bed beside her for an additional hour until I felt sure her nightmare wasn’t coming back.
It’s 11 a.m. now, and she still hasn’t come out of the bedroom. I have no doubt she needed the sleep.
I skipped the gym this morning, wanting to be here when she woke up.
Beatrice has been extra needy all morning, pacing between the couch and the hallway, almost like she’s waiting for Tessa too. Right now she’s curled up on my lap, her purr a steady rumble against my thigh.
I scroll mindlessly through my streaming services, trying to find something worth watching, but nothing holds my attention. The remote clicks as I flip through options—action movies, documentaries, comedies—but my mind keeps drifting to the closed bedroom door down the hall.
I scratch Beatrice behind the ear, and she purrs louder, nuzzling her smushed face closer to me. I kiss the top of her head absently.
After a while, I hear the soft creak of a door opening. Footsteps pad down the hallway.
Tessa finally emerges into the living room, and I look up.
She’s wearing a pair of my sweatpants—the drawstring pulled tight and knotted at her waist—and one of my old Cranes T-shirts that hangs off one shoulder and reaches nearly to her knees.
Both completely swallow her frame. Her honey-blond hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her face is makeup-free, the bruise on her cheek stark in the morning light.
She came here with nothing except the clothes on her back. I make a mental note that I need to get her some new clothes.
“Good morning,” I say, offering her a smile.
She tucks a strand of hair that’s escaped her ponytail behind her ear, looking almost shy. “Good morning,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t believe how late I slept. I don’t think I’ve slept in this late my entire life.”
“Well, I think you needed it.”
She nods, wrapping her arms around herself. “Yeah. That’s probably true.”
Beatrice jumps down from my lap and pads over to Tessa, weaving through her legs in figure eights and rubbing against them as she purrs. I still can’t get over how much she likes her. It’s so unusual for my cat, who normally treats strangers like they’re personally offensive to her.
“Can I get you some coffee? Breakfast?” I ask, standing from the couch.
“No, I’m fine,” she says quickly, shaking her head.
I cross my arms, giving her a look. “Tessa, come on. You’re going to be here for a while. You need to eat.”
She hesitates, her gaze dropping to where Beatrice continues to circle her ankles. “Well… if it’s not too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” I say, already heading toward the kitchen. She follows, Beatrice trotting along behind her.
“I actually just made some coffee.” I pull a mug from the cupboard—one of the oversized ones I usually use—grab the pot, and fill it before handing it to her. Our fingers brush briefly as she takes it. “Unfortunately, I don’t have any fancy creamers or anything. Just milk and sugar.”
“Milk and sugar will be fine,” she says softly, moving to the counter where I’ve left both out.
I watch her fix her coffee—two sugars and a splash of milk—while I pull ingredients from the fridge. Eggs, cheese, bell peppers, mushrooms, spinach.
“How does an omelet sound?” I ask, setting everything on the counter.
“An omelet sounds great.”
“Cheese, veggies—what would you like in it?”
“Anything,” she says, cradling the mug in both hands. “I’m not a picky eater.”
“All right.” I start prepping the omelet, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them. Then I pull a croissant from the bakery box on the counter and slide it into the toaster oven. “Have you had the pastries from the bakery down the road?”
“No.”
“Oh, they’re the best.” I glance over my shoulder at her with a grin. “Just wait until you try this croissant. It’ll change your life.”
She smiles, a small, genuine thing that makes my chest feel lighter.
She sits quietly at the kitchen table while I finish cooking, sipping her coffee and watching me move around the space. Beatrice has claimed the chair beside her, sitting like a sphinx and staring at Tessa adoringly.
I plate the omelet—fluffy and golden, stuffed with cheese and veggies—and set it in front of her along with the warm croissant, butter melting into its flaky layers. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and place it beside her plate, then sit across from her with my own cup of coffee.
“You’re welcome to anything in the house,” I tell her, leaning forward slightly. “Eat whatever you want. Use whatever you need. I want you to be comfortable while we figure out the next steps.”
She nods, picking up her fork. “Okay.”
“I think our goal for today is to do some online shopping.”
She grins and glances toward her oversized attire. “I don’t care about fashion. They might not fit great, but they’re comfortable.”
“That may be true,” I say, trying not to smile too hard, “but they’re literally falling off you. I think you should get some new clothes.”
She takes a bite of the omelet, her eyes widening slightly. “This is really good.”
“Thanks.” I lean back in my chair. “So… is there anything at Preston’s place that you need? I can try to figure out how to get it.”
Her expression shifts, something guarded sliding into place. She shakes her head. “No. There’s nothing there that’s sentimental. I don’t really have personal things of importance—just clothes and toiletries. Any gifts would’ve been from him, and I don’t need those.”
The way she says it—so matter-of-fact, so resigned—tightens something in my chest.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Then we’ll get you whatever you need. Fresh start.”
She looks up at me, and for a second, I see something vulnerable flash across her face.
“Fresh start,” she repeats softly, like she’s testing the words out.
My phone buzzes on the table, vibrating against the wood. I glance down at the screen and smile. “Oh, this is Cole,” I say, looking up at Tessa. “He’s letting us know we have a visitor.”
Tessa takes a sip of her coffee and sets the mug down carefully. “Who’s Cole?”
“Oh—right.” I lean back in my chair. “I hired two bodyguards. They’ve worked with Anna in the past, and she vouched for them, said they’re excellent. Cole and Jack. We’ll have someone stationed at the entrance twenty-four hours a day.”
“Really?” Tessa’s eyes widen slightly.
“Of course,” I say, my tone matter-of-fact.
“I’m serious about you being safe. Especially when you’re at school.
Penny is working on the restraining order today, but we both know that won’t guarantee that Preston will actually stay away.
So I want to make sure you’re always covered—whether you’re in class or at work, if that’s something you want to continue doing.
I don’t want you without security. Ever. ”
Tessa nods slowly, her expression overwhelmed. She picks at the edge of her croissant, pulling off a flaky piece but not eating it. A lot has changed for her in less than twenty-four hours, which is why I’m glad she has a visitor.
I smile, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re going to love who it is.”
Right on cue, the elevator dings. The doors slide open to reveal Layla, wearing ripped jean shorts and an oversized T-shirt, her blond hair pulled into a high ponytail. She’s carrying a large tote bag over her shoulder.
“Tessa!” she exclaims, her face lighting up as she holds her arms out wide.
Tessa pushes back from the table so fast her chair scrapes against the floor. She crosses the kitchen in three quick steps and wraps her arms around Layla in a tight hug.
“How are you?” Tessa’s words tumble out in a rush, her voice muffled against Layla’s shoulder. “Was it awful after I left? Did he say or do anything?”
“No, no,” Layla says quickly, rubbing Tessa’s back.
“He got agitated when you didn’t come back and went up to the counter demanding to know where you were.
I told him I didn’t know—played completely dumb.
” She pulls back slightly to look at Tessa.
“He started to get angry, and that’s when Logan’s hockey guy friends stepped in and asked if I needed help—or if they should call the police. That made Preston back off real fast.”
She exhales, shaking her head. “He stormed out of the coffee shop without another word. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Oh good,” Tessa says softly, relief washing over her face. “So you think he believed you when you said you didn’t know where I was?”
Layla shrugs, her mouth quirking into a half smile. “I can’t be certain, but I think so. As you know”—she dips into a small, exaggerated curtsy—“I’m a very good actress.”
“Of course.” Tessa chuckles, the sound genuine and warm.
Layla releases Tessa and glances at me with a teasing grin. “So question guy turned out to be quite the knight in shining armor.”
Tessa shoots me a quick look, color rising in her cheeks. “Yeah. He’s definitely been great.”
Layla makes herself at home, setting her tote bag on the counter and pouring herself a cup of coffee like she’s been here a hundred times before.
“Isn’t it crazy that this is the first time we’ve ever hung out outside of work, and it’s because you’re on the run and hiding?
” She shakes her head, carrying her mug to the table and sitting down. “The irony.”
“Wait,” I say, genuinely surprised. “You two have never hung out outside of work?”
Tessa sits back down beside me, pulling her coffee closer. “No. I guess you could say my life was pretty controlled with Preston.”
Layla scoffs, wrapping both hands around her mug. “Yeah, that’s an understatement.”
“Well,” Tessa says, rubbing her hands together with a spark of determination in her eyes, “no more. He’s no longer controlling things. He’s no longer controlling me.”
“That’s right.” Layla nods enthusiastically, lifting her mug in a mock toast. “You’re free.”
“I don’t know if that’s entirely true yet,” Tessa says, her voice quieter now. “But it will be.”
She looks at me, and I hold her gaze, giving her a reassuring smile.
“It will be,” I say firmly. “I promise.”