Chapter 33 #2
“I wasn’t thinking,” I hiss. “Blame my ignorance on the sun and alcohol-infused bliss I was living in.”
“Any sign of forced entry?”
“No,” I whisper. “That part doesn't make sense.”
He nods slowly. “Is there more to the story?”
I tuck my lip into my mouth, chewing on it to the point of pain, before nodding.
“Gonna need the whole story.”
He pulls a small notebook from his pocket.
And in my hometown coffee shop, I fill my friend in on the nightmare of the last six years of my life.
Davis reaches a hand across the table, squeezing mine reassuringly as I wipe my tears with a napkin.
Anger pulses from his broad shoulders as he scribbles more notes.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he begins. “We document everything. I’m going to need copies of the text messages and missed call logs. Photos of your injuries and anything you think is relevant. You don’t touch anything, you don’t move anything, you don’t delete anything.”
I nod, heart pounding, my stomach twisted in knots.
“We’ll file a report today to start the paper trail.” He scrubs a hand down his face. “Wish you had come to me sooner.”
“I thought it’d be over when I left.”
He offers me a tight-lipped smile.
My phone vibrates on the table, and I nearly fall out of my seat. Davis’s hands shoot out, steadying the table. “You’re okay. Go ahead and check it.”
My lawyer’s name flashes on the screen.
“Need to take it?”
I shrug. “It’s my lawyer.”
Davis nods. “Answer it.”
“Hello?”
I barely get the words out before Collin snaps immediately. “Where the hell have you been, Wren?”
I shrink, flinching at his tone. It’s not anger, but concern laced with…fear.
“I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“I-I know,” I stammer. “I was busy.”
“Hopefully, living your life?”
My lips twitch. “In the best way.”
He chuckles, but it’s short and not nearly as warm as usual. “That’s good to hear. But we’ve got a problem.”
“Elias isn’t in California,” I say matter-of-factly.
“How do you know that?” he asks slowly.
I stare down at the table where my hand is gripping the cardboard cup like it’s my only lifeline.
“Because,” I whisper. “I’m pretty sure he’s stalking me.”
Davis’s nostrils flare as Collin lets out a string of curses.
“He found me.”
Collin exhales heavily.
“Tell me exactly why you think that,” he says, all irritation gone.
I swallow. “I found red roses on my porch today… Not to mention, my front door and bathroom window were open last night.”
Davis leans in, reaching across the table, motioning for me to give him the phone. I do.
“This is Officer Davis Baldwin with the Silo Bay Police Department,” he says calmly into the phone. His voice takes on a deeper, more professional tone.
With each word Collin says, Davis's jaw tics, fist clenching.
“She hasn’t had direct contact. Only speculation, but I believe her intuition is correct.”
I glance around the coffee shop, at the unwanted glances, fighting the urge to flip the nosy people off.
“I agree,” he says quietly. “I’ll keep her safe.”
He ends the call and doesn’t look away from me as he slides my phone across the table.
“It’s him,” he says gently, or as gently as he can.
I swallow. “What happens now?”
Leaning back, he takes a deep breath. “Everything becomes official.”
“What do you mean?”
“We file an incident report. We’ll push for an emergency protective order. Given the prior evidence your attorney has, which he’s faxing over, and today’s developments, it won’t be hard to approve.”
“And until then?”
“You don’t stay alone,” he says simply. “You stay alert, and you call me if anything feels off—even if you think it’s nothing. Day or night, you call.”
I nod, throat too tight to speak. I thought the abuse was my worst nightmare, but this… This is worse.
“We’ll increase patrols near your place,” he adds. “But you should consider moving back into your dad’s or staying with Jett for a while.”
My brow pinches. “I don’t want to leave my house.”
“Don’t be dumb.”
I gasp at his brashness.
“You’re vulnerable there. We can’t see back the farm lane, and it’s too far away for you to run for help.”
I know he’s right, and I hate Elias even more for this. I finally have a place that feels like me and he’s poisoning it. I’ve made the tiny cottage my home, the one thing I’ve been searching for since I arrived in LA, and now that I’m finding it, I’m not ready to leave.
“I’m going to call an officer to follow you home.”
“Davis,” I protest.
“We’re past the point of keeping this quiet, Wren, but I’ll make sure he takes an unmarked car. Better?”
I nod.
“He’ll do a sweep of your cottage and sit outside the house until you figure out your plan.”
“I hate this.”
“Me too. But I’m going to keep you safe. I promise, Wren.”
There’s a shift in his tone. Pain and torture wrap around each word, and I want to know what happened to him. He’s always been the serious one, but this is different. He’s haunted, and my problems are only adding fuel to the fire.
“Does Jett know about everything you’ve shared with me today?”
I nibble on my lip as a wave of guilt and nerves crash over me. He takes my actions as an answer, and I know what I need to do. “Actually, can you follow me to Jett’s?”
“I think that’s a good place to start.”
As we stand to leave, the community board near the exit captures my attention. A flyer hangs half-covered by a yoga class announcement. I slide the announcement out of the way to get a better glimpse at the flyer.
You’re not alone. Together, we can make changes for the better. Join us every Tuesday at 9:30 AM upstairs at the VFW. It’s OK not to be OK. There’s always hope. Let us help you move forward.
My chest tightens, but not in fear this time. It’s recognition that maybe it’s time to talk. To tell my truth and escape his grasp.
Davis watches me read over the paper.
“I think it’d do you some good. Margo, the group leader, does a fantastic job.”
“You’ve gone?”
He offers a tight-lipped nod, but doesn’t add more.
Davis pushes the door, holding it open for me as I follow him toward the parking lot. The two of us back out, and he follows me the few blocks to Jett’s house.
His truck is still in the driveway, which means I didn’t miss him.
I go through a few breathing exercises before climbing out of my truck.
Glancing at Davis’s SUV parked on the street, I walk up the sidewalk to Jett’s front porch.
My feet drag as I feel like I’m being let out to slaughter, which is an overexaggeration.
It’s been time I’ve told Jett the truth, especially when he witnessed my nightmare.
My knuckles rap against the door, and within seconds, it’s swinging open. Jett’s brow furrows before a sexy smile spreads across his face.
“Miss me already?”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “Something like that,” I answer, glancing over my shoulder again as I wave Davis off.
“Was that Davis?”
“Yeah.” I stare at my feet, but Jett’s fingers are quick to slide under my chin. He lifts my head until our gazes lock. Bright blue eyes search mine as if he’s trying to read every thought I’m having.
“What’s going on, Whiskey?”
“Can I come inside?”
He nods, stepping aside, and I follow him to the couch. Storm stands from her bed, body wiggling with excitement. She hops on the couch beside me, and we both curl up together.
“You’re scaring me, baby.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I need to tell you everything about LA.”
With his hand in mine, I feel his strength coming through, encouraging me to talk.
“I didn’t leave him because I fell out of love,” I say quietly, staring ahead at nothing.
He flinches at my admission, and I realize how it sounded to him.
“I fell out of love with him a long time ago, but I couldn’t leave.” I shift my gaze to him as I let out a deep exhale. “I left because I was scared of him.”
Jett’s forearms flex, fists tightening slightly. “Wren–”
“No, let me.” I hold up a hand as I use the other to pet Storm.
“He wasn’t like that at first. He was charming and successful.
Everyone loved him and was envious of me.
But he turned controlling and possessive, and not in the possessive way you got.
His temper was bad. I thought I knew bad tempers, but his was on another level. ”
I can feel anger radiating off Jett, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I hope he hears me out and realizes how hard this is to admit.
“I didn’t tell anyone. Not only was I embarrassed, but I didn’t think anyone would believe me, not when he was loved by so many.
It started with small things with production and escalated until he was picking out what I was wearing, how my hair was being styled, and what I was eating.
Then that led to always knowing my location, limiting who I had contact with, and any time I pushed back, things just got so much worse.
” My voice cracks. “So I left. I packed a couple of suitcases and left while he was on a work trip. My security guard helped me plan my escape, and he mailed me the rest of my things.”
“Did he get physical?” The question sounds more like a growl.
“Jett…”
“Wren, don’t bullshit me.”
I sigh, and that’s the only answer he needs.
“Fuck, Wren.” His body stiffens, and his jaw tightens against the top of my head.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly.
“For what?” he snaps. I know his tone isn’t directed toward me, but the situation.
“Where do I start? For being naive enough to fall for his bullshit, for being the girl who stayed with an abuser, for bringing this all to your doorstep?”
“Bring it all to my doorstep, baby. I’ll burn the entire world down to end anyone who dares to hurt you.
Not only are you the most compassionate, hardworking, loyal person I know, but no one deserves to be a captor in their own life, and it sounds like that’s exactly what you were.
You’re brave. A fighter. A fucking survivor. ”
“I don’t feel like I am.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I’m here to tell you otherwise.”
I start crying, even though I told myself not to. I’m tired of crying over my situation and especially over Elias. But this time, it’s not because I’m scared, it’s because for the first time in a long time, I feel safe.
We shift on the couch until Jett’s arm is wrapped around me as he nuzzles me into his side. “Have you talked about it?”
I shake my head. No, I haven’t talked about it. Saying the words out loud make it real, even though I’ve carried the bruises and broken bones.
“I think you should. I had to do some therapy through the military, and I still talk to a group now.”
“I’ll think about it.” My mind goes back to the flyer at Shoreline Sips and Davis’s words urging me to go.
Jett nods. “That’s all I can ask, but I think you’ll find the weight you’re carrying lift, pound by pound, with each word you share.
“There’s more,” I admit.
Jett swallows audibly, and I tell him why Davis was outside his door.
Silo Bay and Elias Hearst aren’t ready for the wrath Jett Riggsby is ready to unleash. When he told me he’d burn the world down for me, I never for one second questioned that statement.
All I asked is that he doesn’t go looking for trouble…even though trouble always finds Jett.