Chapter 25 Sabrina
Sabrina
Thank God for CashApp.
That’s all I can say.
Because who the hell knew a rideshare from Manhattan to Verona would cost more than a kidney?
I had to text Mary mid-escape.
She called me back immediately—freaking out, screaming through the speaker like I’d just told her I joined a cult.
I spilled everything in the back of the Uber, sniffling like a lunatic, snot, and all.
I'm sure the driver got more than she bargained for.
She must’ve, because when the car finally pulls up to my little townhome, the older woman behind the wheel puts the car in park and turns around with watery eyes and a kind smile.
“You take care of yourself, sweetheart,” she says, stepping out of the car to open the door for me.
She’s got wild white hair tucked under a pink beanie and smells like lilacs and mothballs.
“I—thank you,” I murmur, wobbling out on sore legs.
Then she hugs me.
A full-on warm, maternal hug.
And yeah, I cry a little more.
Because I’m tired.
I’m scared.
I feel like my life just exploded in slow motion.
And kindness? It breaks me.
She helps me out of the car, and I barely make it halfway up the walkway before I spot Mary barreling out of my house like a five-foot nothing cannonball.
She’s holding a grocery bag in one hand and a big-ass thermos in the other.
“Oh my God! Look at you!” she cries, dropping the soup bag on my welcome mat so she can get a better look at my face. “You have a bruise on your cheek! Are you okay? What the hell happened?”
I wince at the volume as I dig in my purse for my keys.
“Can we not yell? My head is still doing the percussion section of Stomp.”
“Jesus, you look like you got jumped.”
“Not far off.”
I finally get the key in the lock and shove the door open.
“Thanks again for the money, by the way. I couldn’t get anything to load from my account. It kept giving me an error.”
“Yeah. About that,” Mary says, following me in with a strange look on her face.
My living room smells like home—vanilla candles and last week’s Febreze—and I want to cry again.
God, I missed normal.
I turn to look at her.
“What?”
She fidgets, setting the soup on the counter and handing me the thermos of tea.
“So, you know how my mom works for First National, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, a little slow on the uptake.
But hey, concussion, remember?
“Well, I may have panicked after your call and asked her to check your accounts. Just to see if anything was wrong.”
“And?”
She bites her lip. “They’re, um, frozen.”
I blink. “What do you mean frozen?”
“I mean she said it’s showing as being under federal investigation. Like, all of them. Savings, checking, even your dumb rewards card.”
My stomach drops through the floor. “What?!”
Mary lifts her hands like she’s trying to calm a startled raccoon.
“She didn’t have clearance to see any details, okay? It just says pending government investigation. But she said usually when that happens, it means someone’s about to be charged with something.”
I slump onto the couch like I’ve been shot.
“Well, that’s just great. More good news!”
“Sabrina—”
“No, no. Let me just recap my week, okay? Because apparently, I’m starring in a limited-run miniseries called How to Have a Mental Breakdown in Two Weeks or Less.”
I open the thermos, throw the tea bag across the room, and put my hands on my hips as I start pacing.
“First, I think I’m going crazy because someone keeps breaking into my apartment and my classroom and leaving weird notes. Everyone tells me I’m imagining it.”
“Gaslighting 101,” Mary agrees, sitting down in a chair, while I have my freak out.
“Then I get assigned a hot bodyguard who makes me feel safe—like, emotionally and physically safe—but this guy? He goes above and beyond. He decides it’s his job to give me a little boost. You know, as in the best orgasms of my life. He made me believe we were together, you know?”
Mary nods, and tears are rolling down her face, which makes me realize they’re rolling down mine too. Perfect.
I ignore them and I continue, because even though I thought we were casual friends, it seems we’re more than that now.
“But apparently, I’m a moron for thinking that because all the sleepovers, dinners, smexy times in the shower and nights filled with passion?
That was all just part and parcel of the Sigma International Security experience! ”
“Sabrina, I’m sure he felt something—”
“Oh, he definitely felt something, Mar. He felt ALL my somethings. But it was just a fling.”
“How do you know for sure?” she asks, hopeless romantic that she is.
That’s when my steam runs out and I slump in the sofa across from her.
“Because the second I get hurt, he ghosted me.”
I shrug and try to smile, but more tears spill from my eyes.
Mary tries to stand, like she’s going to come over here, and hug me or something.
But I hold up a finger.
Enter second wind.
“Not done.”
I sniff and straighten my shoulders.
“See, because it turns out the break-ins? Real. The danger? Also real. And the person behind it all? My asshole of a brother, Marco, who apparently decided to dip his stupid toes into cybercrime and espionage and then he was actually going to sell me to some fucking lunatic who then got murdered in front of me by a big, scary Russian, who was about to kill me too, when in comes said bodyguard, who kills the Russian—”
“Kills him?”
“Yup, shoots him, bang bang—and don’t feel bad because that jerk deserved it. Anyway, he rescues me, big blockbuster ending, carrying me and everything—but then, big fucking POOF, he vanishes into thin air. He’s just gone.”
“And?”
“And then, I’m alone in a strange clinic for two very long days. My clothes are gone. No one comes to see me but my doctors and nurses. So, I leave.”
My voice is rising, tears threatening again.
“And now? Now I find out my accounts are frozen by the goddamn government, which means I am broke. Flat broke. Like—me and my thirty-five Target mugs broke. And I don’t even have a fucking gas card!”
Mary blinks.
“You have like three mugs with cats that say Not Today, Satan on them.”
“AND I LOVE THEM. But they won’t get full by themselves!”
I sit back down, face in my hands.
Mary doesn’t say anything for a second.
Then she lowers herself next to me, her voice gentle.
“Okay. Look. Yes, this is bad. But it’s not unsolvable.”
“Isn’t it though?”
“No. Because you have me. And you’re not alone, Sabrina. You’re safe now. Nobody’s gonna hurt you again.”
I shake my head.
“He left me, Mary.”
Mary frowns. “Who? The bodyguard?”
“Yeah. He left. Said he was trying to protect me or some bullshit, but the second I needed him, he wasn’t there. And I’m sorry, but what kind of man does that?”
“A stupid one,” Mary says instantly.
That makes me snort through my tears.
“Stupid, hot, emotionally unavailable men are a plague,” she continues. “It’s why I think we should date women now.”
“But I like dick.”
“Me too,” she says sympathetically.
I laugh and cry at the same time.
She wraps her arms around me.
“We’ll figure this out. Whatever the government thing is, we’ll deal with it. We’ll make some calls.”
“Who are we going to call? We’re teachers.” I sniffle.
“We have some pretty important students in our school. I mean, I hear Lucy Volkov Cruz is sending her son here next year!”
“Really? That makes sense, I had her cousin’s kid in my class,” I murmur.
“See! I mean, who knew some of the biggest movers and shakers of New York City would live right here in Verona? Don’t worry, Sabrina. We will get it figured out! And if that hot bodyguard of yours has even half a brain, he’ll realize what he lost and come crawling back with flowers and tears.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, leaning into her side. “But what if he doesn’t?”
“Then we get you a new bodyguard,” she says.
“One with an emotional support puppy and fewer trauma scars.”
I laugh through my tears. Mary joins me. And then, I nod.
“Deal.”
But in my heart, I know no one else will ever come close to him. Because even though I’d been a rabid romance reader for years, I wasn’t ready for Theo Montego.
I wasn’t ready for the way he’d crash into my life, take my heart, ruin me for any other man, and then just disappear.
I’m not even sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this aching emptiness inside of me knowing he’s gone.
Oh, Theo, why’d you run?