Chapter 16
Lines Drawn
Maliyah
The restaurant was everything Reed had promised—quiet, intimate, the kind of place where conversations stayed private and the wine list was longer than the menu.
It wasn't crazy formal, but it was just the right amount of "date-night-sexy.
" We'd been going strong for three weeks now, ever since I'd told him about Bryce.
He'd taken me out to several places, the kids sometimes too.
But the ambiance here—this was my favorite.
"You're quiet tonight," Reed said, reaching across the table to brush his fingers against mine. "Everything okay?"
I smiled, turning my hand to catch his. "Just thinking about how nice this is. Quite the difference from last night's dinner where Lucas and Zoe’s squabble ended in spaghetti all over my blouse."
"I thought it was a really sexy look," he said, his eyes bright and the corner of his mouth twitched upward as he took a sip of wine.
The server appeared with our appetizer—some kind of flatbread that looked too pretty to eat. Reed had ordered it, knowing I'd been eyeing it but hadn't wanted to order too much food—he knew I would pick at it even if I protested.
"How are they doing with staying at Felicity's tonight?" he asked, putting a piece of flatbread on my plate then on his.
"I'm sure they're fine. They've been begging for a sleepover, missing being with them all the time. I have it on good authority that a movie night with too much sugar should be underway right about now.
"It's good that they are so close to each other. Plus, they get a bunch of attention and all the junk food they want? Seems like a childhood dream." Reed took a sip of his wine, then set the glass down carefully. "It also gives us nights like this."
"Nights where we can actually finish conversations?"
"Nights where I can focus on you without little voices making exaggerated 'mwah-mwah' sounds from around the corner.
" He smiled, eyes crinkling at the memory of yesterday—how my lips had barely brushed his while I stirred pasta sauce when Zoe and Lucas had burst into the kitchen, Lucas covering his eyes with splayed fingers while still peeking through, Zoe dramatically jumping up and down singing "Mom and Reed k-i-s-s-i-n-g…
" clearly that song has not gone extinct from when I was a kid.
They'd squealed in delighted unison, before dissolving into giggles and running back to the den.
Reed's expression grew serious. "Speaking of focusing on you—I did some checking on Bryce.
" What he'd found hadn't been reassuring—Bryce worked for his family's consulting firm, had upgraded his home to an overly-expensive condo in Back Bay, and had exactly zero arrests or documented complaints.
A clean record that could mean he was reformed or simply better at not getting caught.
"Have you heard anything more about—" I started to ask, then stopped. We'd agreed not to let Bryce dominate our conversations, not to give him power over the good things we were building. We both failed miserably at this, though.
"Nothing new," Reed said, understanding immediately. "But I've got a friend keeping an eye out. If he shows up anywhere he shouldn't, we'll know."
I nodded, grateful for the reassurance even as part of me wondered if we were being paranoid.
It had been over a week since I'd last thought I'd seen him at the grocery store.
I couldn't tell if I was going paranoid-crazy or if he was just good at making me feel that way.
In the last few weeks I'd sworn I'd seen him on four separate occasions.
"Good evening."
The voice came from behind me, smooth and familiar in a way that made every muscle in my body tense. I knew without turning around, but I looked anyway.
Bryce stood beside our table, one hand resting on the back of an empty chair, looking exactly like he belonged there.
He wore an expensive suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent, his dark hair perfectly styled, that same confident smile that had once made my heart race and later made my blood run cold.
Beside him stood Diane, her blonde hair pulled back in a neat bun, wearing a simple black dress that looked tailor-made to fit her. Her eyes darted between Reed and me, then quickly down and away.
"Maliyah," Bryce said, his voice warm like we were old friends meeting by chance. "What a pleasant surprise."
Reed's hand tightened around his wine glass. I could feel tension radiating from him, could see the way his shoulders had shifted into a more alert position.
"Bryce." I kept my voice steady, though my heart was hammering. "This is my boyfriend, Detective Reed Morrison. Reed, this is Bryce Callahan and his wife Diane."
Reed rose to his feet, towering over Bryce.
The smaller man extended his hand in greeting, but Reed's arms remained at his sides, hands curled into loose fists.
The air between them crackled with tension as Reed's jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving Bryce's face.
After several uncomfortable seconds, Bryce's outstretched hand faltered, then slowly withdrew.
His practiced smile dimmed as the power dynamic shifted visibly away from him.
"I know who you are and that you are ancient history." Reed said. It wasn't a question.
Bryce's slimy smile sliding back into place. "I’m glad to hear Maliyah still thinks about our times together. I certainly remember them fondly. In fact, I was just telling Diane how nice it was to run into Maliyah recently. Such a small world, Boston."
"Getting smaller all the time," Reed replied, his voice deceptively casual.
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. Diane shifted from foot to foot, her purse clutched tightly in both hands. I noticed a faint yellow bruise on her wrist, mostly hidden by her sleeve but visible when she moved.
"Well," Bryce said finally, "we should let you get back to your dinner. Enjoy your evening."
He started to turn away, then paused as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh, Maliyah, I meant to ask—how are your children adjusting to the move? Such a big change for little ones."
The question hit like ice water. He was reminding me that he knew about Lucas and Zoe, that he'd seen them, that he remembered.
Reed moved with such sudden authority that Bryce instinctively retreated. Something in Reed's stance changed—shoulders squared, chin lifted slightly—as years of on the job experience transformed the space between them into his territory.
"I think you should move along now," Reed said, his voice low and controlled. "Before this conversation becomes less pleasant."
Bryce raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. "Just making conversation with an old friend."
"Maliyah is not your friend—old or otherwise." Reed stepped closer, close enough that Bryce had to tilt his head back slightly to maintain eye contact. "And her children are none of your concern. In fact, I'd prefer if you didn't think about them at all."
"Reed," I said quietly, not wanting this to escalate but I still felt grateful for his protection.
"Is there a problem here?" Bryce asked, his tone carefully reasonable, but I caught the flash of anger in his eyes. He wasn't used to being challenged, especially not by someone he didn't consider his equal.
"Not yet," Reed replied. "But there will be if you keep showing up where Maliyah and her family are. Funny coincidences have a way of becoming patterns, and patterns get noticed."
Diane tugged at Bryce's sleeve. "Honey, our table's ready," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Bryce's gaze flicked to Diane as if he'd momentarily forgotten her presence, then hardened as it returned to Reed. For a moment, I thought he might say something else, might push back against Reed's warning. Instead, he gave us his practiced smile and nodded.
"Of course. Enjoy your dinner." He looked at me one last time, his voice dropping a register. "It really was good to see you again, Maliyah. Take care of yourself."
They turned to follow the hostess who had been standing to the side for the entire interaction. A young girl who looked like a deer in the headlights at the interaction she'd just witnessed.
Bryce moved Diane in front of him keeping her in his sights for the walk to their table.
I watched them go, noticing how Bryce's hand found the small of her back, and how quickly she seemed to recover after she shrank slightly at his touch—I remember those days where I'd also experience the fear at the thought of him noticing a flinch or slight movement away from him.
Reed sat back down, but his posture remained alert, his eyes tracking Bryce's movement across the restaurant.
"You okay?" he asked, reaching for my hand again.
I realized I was shaking. "Yeah. I just... I don't think that was a coincidence."
"Neither do I." Reed's jaw was tight. "He knew we'd be here."
The thought sent a chill through me. How could he have known? We'd made these dinner plans this morning.
"How would he know that?"
Reed was quiet for a moment, thinking. "I don’t know, but we need to stay alert."
The idea that Bryce might have been following any of us made my stomach twist.
"What do we do?"
"We finish our dinner," Reed said firmly. "We don't let him ruin our night. But tomorrow, I'm going to have a conversation with a few people, see what we can find out about his movements."
"That feels like an investigation."
"It's not—not yet, at least. But it's about to become one if he keeps this up." Reed's expression was grim. "That wasn't a coincidence, Maliyah. And the way he asked about the kids..." He shook his head. "That was a message."
I knew he was right. Bryce had always been subtle, always careful to maintain plausible deniability. But I'd learned to read between the lines, to hear the threats wrapped in polite conversation.
"Did you see Diane?" I asked.
Reed nodded. "Scared. And she had a bruise on her wrist."
"You noticed it too?"
He nodded and we sat in silence for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts. Around us, the restaurant continued its evening rhythm—couples sharing dessert, friends laughing over wine, normal people having normal dinners.
"I'm sorry," I said finally.
"For what?"
"For bringing this into your life. For—"
"Stop." Reed's voice was firm but gentle. "You didn't bring anything into my life. He did. And we're going to deal with him together, remember? As a team."
I managed a small smile. "As a team."
The server approached hesitantly, probably sensing the tension at our table. "Is everything alright? Can I get you anything else?"
Reed looked at me, raising an eyebrow in question.
"Actually," I said, "could we get the check? I think we're ready to go."
As we waited for the bill, I found myself glancing toward where Bryce and Diane were seated across the restaurant.
They looked like any other couple having dinner—him leaning forward, talking animatedly, her listening with what appeared to be rapt attention.
But I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she kept her hands carefully folded in her lap.
"I wish we could do something," I said quietly. "About Diane."
Reed followed my gaze. "You know as well as I do that you need to want to be saved in order to accept help offered. Do you think she's ready for that?"
"I don't know." Taking a sip of my water, I pushed my chair out, "I’m going to run to the restroom before we head out."
"Can you wait til they bring the check and I can follow? I don’t like the idea of you being out of my sight when that bastard is around."
"I think it should be okay. I won't be long. I promise. And I'll bring my phone with me, okay?" I leaned down and kissed his cheek.
Reed exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping as he leaned back in his chair.
His eyes followed me for a moment, then he gestured toward the restrooms with an open palm.
"Go ahead, I'll be right here...watching him and keeping an eye out," he said quietly, already reaching for his phone to place it on the table between us.
I leaned down, kissed him quickly and went to walk to the bathroom.