Chapter Two
“Morning, Willow!”
Willow turned with a warm smile for the man behind the packages counter at the post office.
“Morning, Ernest. How are you today?”
Ernest winked at her. “Not too bad for an old man. I even managed to wake up this morning, which is always a step in the right direction when you get to the ripe old age of seventy-three.”
Willow walked over to his counter with an arm full of packages. “Well, I still say you don’t look a day over sixty.”
A small flush of color rose in Ernest’s face. “Now, you stop trying to turn my head. A young woman as good looking as you shouldn’t be wasting all her charm on an old fossil like me. Now, what have we got today?”
For the next few minutes, the two of them went through the eight packages Willow had brought to send, figuring out the fastest but most cost-effective method of shipping.
Willow sold essential oils and handmade products online.
She had always been fascinated by the natural healing properties of oils and herbs and once she realized she could make a living from it, she’d resigned from her job at the University Library to start her own business.
Some days it was exhausting, but most days—days like today—she loved every second of it.
“That should get everything here on its way,” Ernest said as he placed the final sticker on her packages before carefully loading them onto the trolley behind him. “Now, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?”
“My book club is meeting tonight and I can’t wait!
” Willow’s eyes lit up. She had spent most of her childhood with her nose buried in a book.
The worlds she read about and the way her imagination embraced the characters within them always seemed brighter, richer, safer than her own reality.
She told Ernest about the novel she’d read for the meeting and promised to give him a full rundown when she came in next week.
Ernest loved hearing about the books, even if he never joined the group himself.
She suspected it was his way of being part of her life and she treasured the quiet kindness of it.
With a wave, she stepped out of the post office, packages sent, heart a little lighter.
The air was brisk, carrying the scent of roasted coffee from the café on the corner and the faint bite of rain on the way.
She had only gone a few steps when she heard someone calling her name.
The voice was familiar enough to make her stomach dip and a tendril of dread unfurled within her.
She pasted on a polite smile. “Hi, Marcus.”
Marcus Thornton, another member of her book club, strode toward her with too much confidence.
From the first time she’d met him, Willow had never felt comfortable around Marcus.
She couldn’t pinpoint why—it wasn’t any one thing, but an accumulation.
The way his eyes lingered on her too long.
The way his smiles never reached his eyes.
The way his presence seemed to take up all the oxygen in a room. It was just... wrong.
“Hey!” Marcus didn’t stop until he’d stepped in close, forcing Willow to retreat a step. He always did that—invading her space like it was his right. The flicker of smug satisfaction in his eyes when she moved back only confirmed that he enjoyed it.
“You been mailing out more of those potions and spells you make?” His tone was jovial, but his sarcasm and condescension was evident.
“Why, yes, I have. I love that my job allows me the freedom to be my own boss.” Willow deliberately kept her tone bright, knowing Marcus despised his own boss and constantly bragged about being the smartest man in the room.
“Are you heading back to work now? I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your boss.
From what you said, she can be a real slave driver. ”
His eyes narrowed, anger flickering across his expression. Willow resisted the urge to grin, though inside she was fist pumping and doing a happy dance. She loved small victories, especially when they involved men like Marcus.
“Well, yes, I do have to get back shortly,” Marcus said through gritted teeth. “I’m not sure what the business would do without me, if truth be told. But now that I’ve run into you, would you like to have dinner with me before the meeting tonight?”
Willow’s jaw dropped. “Um, dinner?” The word came out as a squeak, her shock impossible to hide. He’d spent months sneering at her when he thought she wasn’t looking and making cutting remarks at her expense. Dinner? Really?
“Yes. I can see that you’re shocked. You’re not exactly my usual type”—and there it was, the narcissist showing his teeth—“but I thought I’d offer. It would get you out of that tiny, shitty studio apartment of yours at least.”
Willow’s eyes narrowed. Her cheeks heated with indignation, but her voice stayed cool. “Thanks so much for the heartfelt offer, but I’m already having dinner with a gentleman tonight who thinks I’m exactly his type.”
Marcus stepped closer, his hand snapping out to clamp around her upper arm. Willow gasped at the iron grip, fear tightening her throat. “Who?”
“H–His name is Hugo,” she whispered, the lie tumbling out as much from instinct as fear. Her cat’s name was the only thing her panicked brain could grab.
Marcus’s scowl darkened. For a heartbeat, something moved in his eyes—something not human, not warm, but dark and dangerous.
It was as though a shadow rippled there, hinting at something beneath the surface she couldn’t name.
“I will see you at the meeting tonight,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, resonant with menace.
“Don’t think about skipping. That would not please me.
Make sure you get your ass there. You don’t want me banging on the door of your fucking apartment looking for you. ”
He shoved her away with a growl of disgust and stalked off. Willow stumbled, rubbing her arm where his fingers had dug into her flesh. She was certain bruises were already forming. The sting on her skin was nothing compared to the chill that lingered from that look in his eyes.
Shaken, she started toward home again, her mind racing.
The bustling street around her seemed to blur; people passed by, unaware, wrapped in their own errands and lives.
To them it was just an ordinary afternoon.
But for Willow, the world felt tilted. Marcus’s words clung like cobwebs she couldn’t shake off.
Halfway there she froze, his words replaying in her head. He had mentioned her apartment—her studio apartment. She had never held a meeting there. She had never even told the group where she lived.
So how the hell did Marcus know?
****
“Willow?”
Willow jolted at the sound of her name, looking around the room at the rest of her book club and realizing that everyone was staring at her.
“Yes?”
Lisa Colman smiled in that patronizing way that always made Willow want to poke her with a stick. “Sorry, dear, was this book a little beyond you? There are a lot of hidden themes and nuances that can present people with a challenge if they’re not up to it.”
Perhaps stabbing her with something sharper would be more satisfying.
Willow opened her mouth to launch into her actual opinion—that the book was poorly written, with plot holes so large you could drive a tractor trailer through them and an ending as predictable as sunset—but then she caught Marcus’s eye.
The look he gave her was chilling. Hatred and desire mixed in a way that made her skin crawl.
“Perhaps it was a little more than I’m used to,” Willow murmured instead, dropping her gaze to the floor. The conversation resumed around her and she tried to blend into the ugly couch beneath her.
Earlier that evening, she’d debated with herself about whether she should even show up for the meeting, but Marcus’s warning had been too dire to ignore.
If he did know where she lived, she didn’t want to risk him pounding on her door in the middle of the night.
Her apartment wasn’t in the safest part of town, and she doubted her neighbors would care enough to come to her aid.
No, the best thing she could do was talk with Marcus at the end of the meeting, let him know she wasn’t interested and convince him to let it go. At least, that was the plan.
An hour later, the meeting came to a close and Linda thanked everyone for coming. Willow forced a wan smile as she stepped into the hallway. She was ready to bolt for the stairs when Lisa called her name. Barely resisting the urge to wince, she turned back to their host.
“Thanks for coming, Willow. Some of us were thinking that it might be time for you to host the next meeting. From what Marcus was saying before you arrived, you don’t live too far from here,” Lisa said, smiling.
Cold washed over Willow, her pulse skipping. Slowly, she turned to Marcus, who leaned against the wall outside Lisa’s door. His smug smile made her stomach churn, bile burning her throat.
“Yes, I do live close by. Perhaps I could post on our Facebook group page with a date?” Willow murmured, praying neither Lisa nor Marcus caught the tremor in her voice.
Thinking Marcus might know where she lived had been one thing.
Having it confirmed was another. Her heart thundered in her chest, threatening to give her away.
“Of course,” Lisa said, giving her a strange look. “Well, I’ll look forward to seeing you at the next meeting. And if you’re going to host, don’t forget to post the theme.”
Willow nodded quickly and turned, desperate to put distance between herself and Marcus. She had barely made it to the stairs when she heard him bid Lisa goodnight. Then—her name, sharp and too loud.
Fear surged and she ran. She tore down the stairs, taking them two at a time, Marcus’s roar echoing behind her.
“Willow! Don’t you run from me, bitch!”