Chapter Seventeen
Gemma
Everything was fine until this morning.
I’d skated past Mom and Dad’s questioning about why I was back so soon. Me and Two didn’t get into any serious trouble. We also spent all night talking again over the phone.
Despite being exhausted for school today and dragging out of bed, everything was fine.
As I was drying my hair, I got a text.
Unknown: Public nudity is beneath you, sweetheart. Luckily you were caught before things escalated.
I can’t keep ignoring this guy, which is why I’m making a pit stop by the police station before school. Sloane will know what to do.
Tara, the receptionist, waves as I enter. I give her a bright smile despite the anxiety simmering in my gut. Sloane is sitting at one of the desks in the middle of the station, arguing with another guy one desk over.
“Hey, Sloane,” I greet as I approach. “Is this a bad time?”
She shakes her head but glares daggers at the other guy. “No, just the usual from my partner.”
“Ethan Montgomery,” the guy says, grinning my way. “She’s just so easy to rile up.”
“Come on,” Sloane says, rising from her chair. “I need coffee. I’ve finally figured out how to use the new machine.”
I follow her into the break room where she sets to making two coffees. She makes mine like she makes hers, which is presumptuous, but after a sip, I decide I definitely like the way she makes it. She gestures for us to sit at one of the tables.
“What’s up? Dempsey okay?”
“Yeah, of course. You see him more than I do nowadays.”
Her smile is dopey and nothing like the bitchy cop expression she had on when I first arrived. “I guess I do.”
We both take a moment to sip our coffees and then she speaks again.
“What can I help you with? I can see the worry in your eyes.”
I set my paper cup down and inspect my nails. Last night, while on FaceTime with Two, I did a cool effect on my nails using some of the extra Hemingford Hall wallpaper clippings I’d stuffed into my purse. The Victorian look is pretty cool. Two thought it was awesome.
“I think I have a stalker.”
She sits up. “You think or you know?”
“I know.” I meet her gaze. “It started off with strange messages online, but it’s progressed to letters left on my vehicle. The person has been following me and knows about…things.”
“Things?”
“Personal stuff,” I say quickly, not eager to tell her about Two since I can barely explain it myself. “This morning there was a text from them.”
I dig around in my purse and hand over the notes I’d collected. She rises from her chair and fetches a Ziplock bag for me to put them into. Once it’s sealed, she sits again.
“What does the text say?”
“Personal stuff.”
Sloane’s blond eyebrow arches up in a questioning way that makes me squirm. “Gem, sweetie, you’re not telling me something. I can’t help you if you leave parts of the story out.”
I puff out a heavy breath. “It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s between us. I won’t tell your brother or mom or Ethan in there. Spill.”
“I got caught making out with my, er, boyfriend last night. Without my shirt.” I wince at saying those words, waiting for some sort of disgusted reaction from her. I get nothing aside from the expectant look on her face as she waits for me to continue. “A cop discovered us and gave us a tongue lashing. But then, this morning, well, here.”
I swipe open my phone, locate the text, and thrust it at her.
She reads it and then uses her own phone to take a picture of it. “I’ll run the number, but more than likely it’s a burner. However, since they have your number and know where you always are, it has to be someone who knows you. Run into any weirdos at school who might have a crush on you?”
Literally ran into one, but I have a crush on him back.
“No.” I shrug, glancing down at my coffee. “My parents don’t know I’m seeing someone. You know how protective they are.”
“I do,” she says gently.
“The person doing this is probably just trying to scare me, right? They’re probably harmless.”
I wait for my sister-in-law-to-be and newly appointed detective to assure me I’m overreacting. Of course she’s a no-bullshit kind of gal.
“It’s worrying.” She reads the text again. “I’ll do some investigating on my end. You let me know immediately if anything new happens and try not to touch the note. I’ll come to you. These are probably riddled with your fingerprints.”
“I just don’t know of anyone who could be doing this. If I did, I could confront them.”
Sloane shakes her head. “Please don’t do that. If you have a hunch, you let me know. I won’t have you putting yourself in harm’s way.” She casts a look past the break room and then back to me. “If they message you online again, though, let your brother take a peek. He has more resources and means to uncover someone’s online presence. Don’t delete and block next time.”
She’s not talking about Dempsey, either.
My brother Jude is the whiz with technology and his hobby is basically hacking anyone and everyone who poses a threat to our family.
“I will,” I assure her even though the thought of talking to Jude about all this makes my gut clench. It’s bad enough talking to another woman about it.
“What was the cop’s name?” Sloane asks, voice dipping low. “The one from last night?”
My blood runs cold. “You think he’s my stalker?”
“I’m not saying that,” Sloane murmurs, “but this station already had one bad seed. I’ll always keep my eyes and ears open. You never know.”
“Brandt. We asked how he stumbled upon us, but he didn’t give an answer other than he was on patrol.”
“Where was the location?”
“One of the lookout points on Park Mountain.”
She relaxes. “We patrol those areas frequently. Teenagers like to go up there and neck.”
I snort out a laugh. “Neck?”
“I’m not that old, Gem. Necking? Never heard of it?”
“Like making out?”
“Yep, it’s official. I am old. Thanks for pointing that out, kid.”
My phone, that’s still in her hand, buzzes. She looks down at it, reading a text, and then hands it over to me.
“Who’s Two?”
Heat floods my face and neck. “The boyfriend. You swear you won’t tell anyone?”
“Promise. Be careful, though.” Her brows knit together. “Trust me. I have a reckless sister. If you’re hiding who you’re seeing, there’s a reason and it’s usually not good.”
“My parents,” I say lamely.
“If Jamie can get over her best friend being engaged to her son, I think she can handle her daughter dating someone. Promise me if this is serious between you and your guy, you’ll open up to your family about him.”
“I will,” I rush out. “Just not right now.”
“Go on and get out of here. The boyfriend awaits, and I quote, ‘in the parking spot right in front of where you hit me with your car.’”
I groan as I read the text he sent. He’s never going to let me live it down.
“Thanks, Sloane.”
We hug and then I down my coffee before hightailing it to campus. I’m nearly late, but as promised, Two is leaned against the grill of his Rover, waiting for me. I pull into the spot next to him and leap out, eager to kiss him.
He pulls me into his arms, rakes his fingers through my freshly washed and dried hair, and then crashes his lips to mine. Already, this morning, he tastes like butterscotch. I kiss him, eagerly roving my tongue over his to sample the rich, buttery flavor. Before it can get too hot and heavy, he pulls away and then grabs my hand.
Walking into the building holding Two’s hand feels right. Like we’re a united front. I always had my brother on the same “team” if you will, but then he moved out to be with Sloane. I didn’t realize how lonely I was until now. Two fills a void my brother left, and not in some sicko perverted incest way. Two’s not just the object of my every lust-filled thought, but he’s my friend too. Yes, he’s weird and annoying and brash at times, but I like that about him. It endears me to him.
“I went by the police station this morning,” I say, glancing his way. “Talked to my future sister-in-law. She’s a detective.”
“About last night? The asshole cop who was following you?”
“Yeah, uh, that. But also the text from this morning.”
He jerks to a stop and comes to stand right in front of me. “What text?”
I pull my phone out and show it to him. His jaw clenches and his gray eyes gleam with anger.
“It’s that cop. It has to be.”
“Sloane says it’s normal to patrol up there. I think the stalker was just following me and saw the cop with us.”
He tears his gaze from mine to scan the parking lot. When he doesn’t see an immediate threat, his eyes are back on mine. I’m pulled into his arms for a tight, quick hug that does wonders to soothe my erratically beating heart.
“We need to be more aware of our surroundings,” he murmurs, kissing my head. “This guy’s gotten the upper hand too many times. If I ever catch him, I’ll…” He trails off, letting his warning hang in the air.
“You’ll bore him to death talking about the original flooring of an entertainment hall built in the early nineteen hundreds?”
He pulls away, smirking at me. “For most people, it’s torture. You’re just a weirdo who likes it. You have a Victorian kink.”
I give him a playful shove. “I do not. Okay, maybe I do. I keep wondering where Alexander and Edgar had their sordid affair. Was it in the quiet, secluded attic? Or did they boldly make love on Alexander’s desk with the drapes open?”
His chuckle warms me to my core. “We’re not including this”—he waggles a finger at me—“in our project. This is factual, not fiction.”
He brings my hands up so he can admire my nail art and then surprises me when he kisses one of the knuckles. “It’s going to be hard keeping my hands off you during class.”
“I won’t complain if you can’t,” I say with a teasing grin.
The smile on his face falters and he releases my hands. “I know, but we can’t. There are people, including Mr. Pederson, who know my dads. Sorry.”
I can’t help but shiver from his tone. Reality is a harsh reminder that our fun, steamy romance is something we must keep secret. His dads could truly be crushed by this news and my parents would have a fit if they knew who I was seeing.
To his credit, Two doesn’t dart ahead of me but walks by my side, even remembering to open the door for me. Sometimes he does romantic stuff, and other times he takes off in his vehicle with my legs still dangling out the car door. He’s multidimensional like that.
Once in class, he gets into an animated conversation with Mr. Pederson about Cedarwood Mansion updates. I note that he glosses over the fact there haven’t been any real updates because all his free time has been spent with me and our project.
I check my phone and there aren’t any new strange texts, nor are there any stalker messages on my socials. In my email, I find several new offers for collaborations with brands, including one that pays a whopping fifteen grand if I’ll go on a hiking trip with them and do a live showcasing their survival gear.
Um, no.
Some people should actually look at my overall aesthetic before contacting me. Beauty and hair products, yes. Survival gear, no.
Unless it’s some ploy by my stalker.
My blood runs cold.
Would this guy try and get me alone in the woods?
Maybe I’m just overanalyzing everything.
Rather than keep it to myself, I take a screenshot and text it to Sloane. She gives me her work email and asks for me to forward it to her. I have another email from the dean of PMU, Dr. Skeller, talking about an event coming up soon that they’ll be accepting applicants for. My skin continues to prickle and I hate that this stalker has me paranoid about school emails too.
I have Sloane on this and Two will protect me when we’re together.
I’m tired of being made to feel uneasy and afraid.
Hopefully, soon, I’ll learn how not to let this stuff affect me.
At least Two’s a great distraction.
As he strides over to our table, he flashes me a hot, secretive grin that makes my insides melt.
Yep, he’s a fantastic distraction because I can’t think about anything right now aside from the way he made me come in his truck.