Chapter 5
Five
River
“Dumb,” I whisper as I drive out of the parking lot. “Stupid. Ridiculous. Dumb,” I repeat as I turn onto the street and start for the freeway.
But I can’t even lie.
I’d been waiting for Thorn to show up all day, eyeing the door to Brooks and Briar’s apartment, knowing he was coming to dinner and delaying my tasks, slowing them, hoping I’d have a chance to give him the damned cookie I painstakingly decorated last night.
Delaying.
Working slowly.
And—
God, I’m an idiot.
Beep!
I gasp, realize the light’s turned green and slam my foot down onto the pedal, hurrying through just as the signal goes from yellow to red.
Wincing, I flick my gaze to the rearview, see the driver who’s now missed the signal tossing up their hands in frustration.
“Whoops,” I whisper, vowing to pay more attention.
But that doesn’t last long.
Because my mind drifts back to Thorn, back to the apartment, back to—
“The man doesn’t like chocolate.” I shake my head. “Inconceivable.”
Then I laugh.
Clearly, I’ve watched The Princess Bride too many times of late.
“Still”—another shake of my head—“to not like chocolate is…” My lips twitch. “Inconceivable.”
Thankfully, I make it to the freeway without further incident and then I’m heading in the direction of my apartment.
But I find that the closer I get to it, the tighter my shoulders become.
I don’t want to go home.
I don’t want to be alone.
But Brooks and Briar have only recently figured out their relationship, and I don’t want to cramp their style by hanging at the apartment like a pathetic…well, hanger-oner.
Plus, Thorn needed to discuss some security things with Brooks.
I didn’t need to be there for that.
Whatever decisions they’re making, whatever protections they’re putting in place for Briar—none of them involve me.
I’m just the help.
I pull into my apartment complex, park in my spot.
But I can’t force myself to go inside. Instead, I walk along the path that winds its way through the buildings, slowly making my way to one of my favorite spots in the area.
It’s just a bench, but it’s placed close to a wall and shaded by a gazebo that’s strung with fairy lights that cut through any nighttime shadows.
And there’s an oak tree that’s positioned just right—if I curl up my legs, I can be completely hidden by its trunk, free to observe the world around me, but remain unseen.
How do I know this?
Because coming upon my curled-up presence has startled many an occupant strolling along the path.
Maybe I’m being creepy, hiding in plain sight, but I don’t really care.
It’s nice to be outside in the fresh air, to hear the chatter of conversations as people go to their apartments, the noise of kids playing in the nearby field, to feel the sunshine—or like right now, the crisp evening breeze on my cheeks—and to do it all while feeling safe.
Tonight’s no different.
Except, I do that listening and soaking up the world while wondering if Thorn will like the cookie I made him.
“Dumb,” I whisper. “So freaking dumb.”
“I’m sorry?”
I jump, nearly fall off the bench as I realize that for all my remaining unseen, I haven’t been paying attention to my surroundings.
A woman is staring at me, her brows lifted.
“Uh,” I stammer. “I— Sorry.” I force a smile. “I was talking to myself.”
“Gotcha,” she murmurs, her lips curving upward. “I’ve been there.” A beat. “Far too often.”
I chuckle and she does too.
Then nods at the bench. “Okay if I join you?”
“I…uh…” It’s fine…but it’s not exactly conducive to my whole part-of-the-world-without-being-part-of-the-world thing I’ve got going on.
“It’s okay,” she says immediately. “You want quiet. I don’t want to intrude.”
“No, um, I wouldn’t mind the company. I swear.”
Except it sounds very much like I would mind the company.
She studies me for a long moment then slowly sits down on the opposite side of the bench. “I’m Stephanie,” she says, extending her hand.
“River,” I tell her, grasping it.
“Nice to meet you.”
I brace for uncomfortable conversation, for awkward small talk.
To my surprise, it doesn’t happen.
Instead, Stephanie curls her legs up and rests her chin on her knees, her gaze pointed toward the setting sun, her soft sigh of contentment one I feel deep inside.
Still, it takes me a few minutes to relax.
And few minutes more for Stephanie to turn her gaze toward me. “Thanks for letting me intrude,” she says, her mouth curved into a smile.
“You don’t have to go,” I tell her.
“I need to finish my loop,” she tells me. “I have to get my steps in.”
“I feel that.”
Another smile and she pushes to her feet. “Maybe I’ll see you around again some time.”
“You’re welcome to share my bench anytime you want.”
A chuckle before she rolls her shoulders and continues down the path, disappearing around the corner.
I sit for a few more minutes.
Then it’s growing dark enough that the shadows are beginning to cling to the edges of the buildings and I know I need to move.
My stomach rumbles on that thought.
“Exactly,” I whisper to myself, retracing my steps and walking over to my apartment.
It’s not a leisurely stroll this time.
Not with the sun almost down and the shadows spreading and my hunger growing by the second.
Leftover soup and bread and daisy-shaped cookies with plenty of sprinkles.
Yum.
And a book with a hero who reminds me of—
“Thorn,” I say.
But it’s in surprise.
Because he’s standing right outside my apartment door.