Chapter 7
Blakelyn
I don’t sleep. I can’t. I lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, curled under the blanket Gruene left with the taste of metal in my mouth and the echo of my heartbeat pounding like a warning bell in my chest.
He stayed for a few hours after it happened. Didn’t say much. Didn’t touch me unless I reached for him first. When he finally stood, he looked at me like I was still in danger—even in my own bed, and then, he left.
He didn’t promise to come back. He didn’t try to hold me. He didn’t say goodbye but when I got up an hour later and checked the window, his porch light was still on. And his front door was wide open like he was waiting to hear me scream.
He doesn’t offer comfort. He offers presence, and somehow, that feels like more than I deserve.
I’m sitting on the floor of my bathroom just after sunrise. My back is pressed against the cabinet with my knees pulled to my chest. The tile is icy. My coffee’s long gone cold and I’m still in his shirt from yesterday.
I haven’t cried. I don’t think I can.
It’s not shock. It’s not strength. It’s something closer to steel—like whatever was soft in me has been cauterized. Tyler’s face… his voice… his smug grin… the way he said my name like I still belong to him… it’s burned a hole through every inch of peace I thought I’d earned.
I thought I’d run far enough but yesterday proves that distance doesn’t mean freedom.
I have to do something.
By ten, I’m parked in front of Juniper Falls Middle School, my engine ticking in the heat. The building is locked up for the summer, but the principal, Mrs. Leland, has agreed to meet with me.
She sounded surprised and cautious when I called earlier.
“I just want to clear something up,” I’d said.
She replied to come meet her in person.
Opening the passenger door, I dig out the folder I tucked deep in my glove box three weeks ago—my hiring packet, teacher orientation info, the official copy of my contract. My legal name is printed on every page.
Blakelyn Rose Walker.
Not Blakelyn Vaughn as I’ve gone by for years, even though Tyler and I were never married.
The school needed my real information for payroll, background check, district insurance. I didn’t have a choice. I told myself it would be safe. That no one would connect me to this little river town. That Juniper Falls was so far off the map, he’d never think to look for me using my actual name.
I should have known better.
I knew better.
The office smells like fresh paint and copier toner.
Mrs. Leland stands from her desk as I enter. She’s neat and composed in a beige pantsuit, her silver hair swept into a low bun. Her expression is unreadable.
“Miss Walker,” she says. I nod and she gestures to the chair across from her desk. “What did you want to meet with me a about?”
I sit, carefully smoothing my hands over my linen shorts. My palms are damp. “I wanted to talk to you about—what happened yesterday. I assume you heard. Juniper Falls isn’t a big town.”
She nods. “The altercation at the tube shop,” she says. “I heard.”
“Yes.” I reply.
Her mouth tightens. She nods. “I received a call from the sheriff’s office late yesterday afternoon. They asked me to confirm that a woman named Blakelyn Walker had recently been hired. They mentioned a man came onto private property and caused a scene. Said it was a domestic matter.”
“It was my ex,” I say quietly. “Someone I left for very serious reasons.”
She tilts her head. “We do run thorough background checks before employment. Nothing flagged your name, Miss Walker.”
“No, ma’am. I’m not a criminal.” I laugh but it sounds high pitched. “I’ve never been arrested for anything. I’ve never even gotten a speeding picket. And this thing with my ex, I—I never reported anything.” My voice wobbles. “I should have.”
She exhales and leans back, folding her hands on her stomach, regarding me. She asks softly, “I see. Is there any reason to believe this man will attempt to contact the school? Or show up here?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Absolutely not. I don’t think he’s crazy enough to come here, to the school. He found me… but I think it was through my name on the district roster. Yesterday was about him trying to force my hand to go back to Austin with him.”
She purses her lips. “But he found you in Juniper Falls.”
I nod and silence stretches between us.
When she finally speaks, her voice is softer. “I’m not asking this to interrogate you, Miss Walkker. I don’t want to pry, especially on such a sensitive subject. I’m only asking because I have an obligation—to the school, the students, to the faculty, and to you.”
“I understand.” I swallow.
I’m going to be released.
“I believe you.” Her eyes meet mine and I see understanding within them. “If you need anything—protection, support, counseling—you’ll have it.”
It knocks something loose in my chest. A breath. A beat of warmth. Something I didn’t expect from a woman in heels and a starched neutral blazer.
Before I can thank her, she adds, “There’s something you should know.”
I sit straighter. “What?”
She pulls open a drawer and slides out a printed email. “I didn’t send this,” she says. “But this was in the system from last week. I was cc’d after the fact.”
I read it quickly. It’s a district-wide welcome email—standard HR greeting, benefits login info, employee portal instructions. It was sent to all new hiresand cc’d to the main office admin at Juniper Falls Middle School, but at the bottom—tacked on as a casual reply—is a single line.
I have family in Austin. I think Ms. Walker used to go by another last name, maybe she got married. She looks very familiar.
One accidental line mass sent on an email.
Someone could have seen it and told Tyler. He could have picked up the trail and started looking. That’s all it took.
The blood drains from my face.
“I don’t know who wrote it,” Mrs. Leland says. “But I’ve put in a request to track it.”
I nod numbly.
This isn’t paranoia. It’s a paper trail and Tyler was already sniffing around the edges.
By the time I get back to the cabin, my legs feel like they’re made of smoke. The wind has picked up, hot and sharp, carrying dust off the gravel and through the cedar trees that line the bank. I’m sweating, but I feel cold. Shaky.
He found me because someone recognized my face and thought I used to have a different name… his.
Pushing open the screen door, I step inside.
He’s there, sitting at my kitchen table.
Gruene.
One ankle hooked over his knee, arms crossed, face set like stone. He says slowly, “You left and didn’t tell me. Didn’t tell Reece. I came to check on you and you were just gone.”
Closing the door, I lock it behind me. “I’m sorry.
I didn’t even think to tell you. I’m sorry you worried.
I called my principal and met with her at the school…
about Tyler, and yesterday. She knew. The sheriff called her.
” I set my bag down. “He found me through my hiring. It wasn’t on purpose.
No one from the school leaked anything intentionally.
I was sent a mass ‘welcome’ email and someone recognized my face.
I’m a damn good teacher. They mass responded to it and said I used to have a different last name… Tyler’s. That’s all it took.”
His eyes stay on mine. Sharp. Searing. “You used your real name.”
I blink, “I had to. I’m a teacher. I have to use my government name in official capacity. I didn’t think that he’d look for me using my actual name. I should have. But I didn’t.”
“For payroll,” he says.
“Yes.” I reply, my brows drawing together.
He stands abruptly. The chair legs screech against the floor as he grips the back of his neck. “Jesus, Blakelyn.”
I flinch.
Is he pissed at me? Or at the fact that Tyler found me?
“I didn’t choose to be found,” I snap. “I didn’t hand him a map and invite him here.”
He exhales through his nose. Jaw tight. Shoulders braced. “Didn’t say you did. But he does know where you are, and you and I both know that he is going to come back. Men like that…”
He’s right. Tyler will absolutely be back.
He thinks I’m his possession and I dared to leave him. He’ll come back. And if I don’t leave with him… he’ll try to make good on his promise.
And now, Gruene is involved… which also means, he’s in danger.
He’s pacing now. I can see the rage is back, boiling beneath the surface.
“I took every precaution,” I say, lower now. “And I still couldn’t stop him. He found me and I’m sorry you’re involved.”
Stopping his pacing, he turns. He sighs, “Blakelyn, I don’t give a fuck that I’m involved. I am involved, and he’s not going to touch you. I promise you that.”
We stare at each other across the room. Two people who just made each other feel like something was starting —and now we’re teetering on the edge of ruin.
“Are you staying?” he asks.
“I don’t want to run again.” I reply.
“That’s not what I asked.” He retorts.
I square my shoulders. “Yes, I’m staying.”
He nods, only once, and then, he leaves.
He doesn’t say goodbye. He doesn’t offer comfort. He doesn’t tell me what to do. He just walks out the door and I stand there in the heat of his absence and wonder if that’s all this was ever going to be.
Does he want me to leave?
That night, I wake up to lights in the distance, but not on the road.
He’s on the water. Two beams flicker near the bend, just beyond the grove. It’s too late for floaters and too early for morning fishermen. I watch from the dark window, my heart pounding so loud I can hear it in the room.
Then, I see him.
Gruene.
He’s in a boat, in the river. He’s setting something along the banks. The lights on the boat reflect on the water and he has a rifle strapped across his back.
He’s patrolling. Alone. Silent. Making sure the banks are clear, and no one can sneak up from the water.
This is not for him.
It’s for me.
He won’t say the words. He’ll never say the words, but this is his promise.
I believe it.
Gruene
The river’s quiet this morning, almost too quiet.