Chapter 4
Poor Decision Making
CALLIE
Iam so not a stalker.
I’m also not a criminal, which is more than I can say for my late father, my brother, and my soon-to-be ex-husband.
What the fuck am I doing here? I’m fueled by anger and spite, which is what I’m mostly made up of these days. I’m like three rabid raccoons in a trench coat.
And I’m huddled behind a damn tree in the middle of the woods spying on this gorgeous but almost certainly fucked-up dude.
I shiver and rub my arms with gloved hands.
I totally chickened out of meeting him back in Portland in public where I would have been safe.
Safer. And then as he strode down the sidewalk toward his car—after I realized that yes, my first thought when watching him through the coffee shop window was correct, he’s insanely hot—I panicked that he might not agree to meet me again.
Maybe he’ll think it’s a trap or I’m the cops or something.
Then Shane’s words echoed in my head, calling me a boring-ass good girl.
I might be looking to get rid of all the criminal nonsense that surrounds me, but that doesn’t mean what Shane said is true. I’m not boring.
And I can’t let Hawk slip through my fingers.
I almost didn’t even reach out to him. But what choice did I have? Just wait around for Shane to call me again or show up at Jake’s apartment? Nightmare.
Hawk responded. And showed up. Tall and broad-shouldered and dark-haired with tattoos on his exposed forearms. He also smiled at the woman who walked by with her baby and said thank you to the barista who came to collect his empty coffee cup.
So I followed him. He might’ve been local, and I could learn something else about him. Maybe he’d go home, and his real name and social security number would be posted on his door for easy reference.
Instead, I’m in the middle of the woods, the sky heavy and the cold, wet smell of impending snow in the air.
Maybe if I’d been a part of the family business, I’d be good at this stuff. Finding people. Forcing people to do what I want. Sneaking around.
Maybe then my marriage wouldn’t have crashed and burned.
Shane’s father was part of a different crime family, and our fathers had been friendly.
When his dad was killed in a job gone wrong and Shane ousted from the group, Dad offered him a place to stay, a low-level job with the family, and some mentorship.
He even pushed Shane to change his name for safety.
At that point, I was in the middle of getting my bachelor’s degree at a community college and had already moved out into a tiny studio apartment.
Over the next year or two, I slowly got to know Shane.
It had only been a few years since my mom had died, and I’d felt such empathy for his loss.
We bonded. The summer we got together, I spent a lot of time at the house.
At the time, Dad lived on a lake outside of Portland, and we’d sit on the dock side-by-side, letting our legs swing from the wooden platform and soaking in the summer.
His sadness was deep and raw and drew me in.
That’s when it got intense.
Shane wrote me love letters and called me five times a day and constantly texted.
He brought me flowers and wanted every minute of my time.
In hindsight, it was obvious he was love-bombing me, but I couldn’t see it.
He moved out of Dad’s house and into my apartment, even though my father strongly disapproved.
Then I got pregnant, and Shane immediately proposed.
My father was furious, but at that point, I loved pissing him off.
It was the only time he actually paid attention to me.
Ever since an awful incident when I was a freshman in high school, I knew that man didn’t have my back.
And clearly he didn’t have Shane’s, either.
Shane and I married quickly, and Dad reluctantly accepted him into our family.
I lost the baby.
Things turned fast. Shane became overly critical and withdrawn, claiming he was upset about the baby, pushing me to get pregnant again. He was emotionally abusive and manipulative. Shane was constantly chasing that feeling of belonging in our family. He wanted to be my father’s son.
It took my father’s death to shake me out of it.
It’s fucking cold out here. I shudder and sigh loudly, then freeze.
Shit. I should remember what I’m doing, standing in the middle of the woods behind a tree, spying on a man who is probably a criminal, just like my family.
Someone I want absolutely no part of. How much noise have I been making?
What if he’s looking out that window and sees me lurking in the woods?
I need to focus, both right now and overall. Find Shane. Finalize divorce. Get Mom’s ring back. Move to Seattle. Get my master’s degree.
Start my life over.
To get to that goal, I’m gonna have to wade through some nasty shit.
Like standing in the middle of the woods. Alone. With a snowstorm about to start, as illustrated by the large, lazy snowflakes drifting down through the trees.
This is exactly what Lola means when she talks about my poor decision-making. Which is why I didn’t tell my best friend my new plan to find Shane. Her opinion was that he didn’t want to be found, and I should just wait for him to reemerge.
Not go chasing after him by hiring another criminal to help.
I pull out my phone to text her, because maybe I should’ve told Lola about coming here, but naturally there is zero service. In the middle of the woods.
Which definitely means I need to get back to Portland before I get stuck out here. I shake my head and slip my phone back into my pocket. It’s already dark, stupid February in stupid Maine. I want to go home and hang out with Honey Bunny.
The idea of snuggling on my bed with my rabbit and a book page art project spurs me to action. I adjust my beanie. I’ll message Hawk when I get back to the apartment. I’ll apologize profusely and ask to talk over the phone instead.
But as I start to turn, a branch cracks behind me.
Then I feel a prick in my neck, and everything goes dark.