Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Dahlia
The restaurant Josh picked screams effort.
Crisp white tablecloths, crystal chandeliers, and a wine list so extensive it requires a sommelier. It’s nice. Too nice.
I shift in my seat and tug at the hem of my dress. I shouldn’t have worn this. The soft yellow color reminds me of Echo, and it makes this whole situation feel like even more of a betrayal.
I shouldn’t have agreed to go to dinner either. It was supposed to be coffee. Coffee is chill, casual. A dinner at a place like this is anything but. If I’m being real, I shouldn’t have texted Josh at all, but I’m here now, so I’ll just have to get through it.
Josh is talking again. Just like he has been for the last twenty minutes. He’s been going on and on about his job and the recent promotion he accepted.
I nod at the right times. Smile when it seems appropriate.
And keep my eyes locked on the fine lines in his forehead to feign eye contact.
But the whole time, I’m thinking about how wrong this feels.
How stiff I am. How forced my responses sound.
And how I keep checking my phone under the table even though I know I haven’t gotten any new messages.
Fallon’s words circle in my head.
Most men look at women and think about what they want to do to them. Echo looks at you like he’s thinking about what he could do for you.
I glance at Josh. He’s leaning forward slightly, his wine glass held loosely in one hand. He’s looking at me like he's already planned our next five dates. Like this is just the beginning of something he’s decided we’re going to be. And I feel nothing. No spark. No comfort. No ease. Just stiffness.
“What do you think, Doll?”
I blink and refocus on him. “Sorry, what?”
Josh gives me a patient smile. “I asked if you wanted to split the pappardelle.”
“Oh. Sure. Yeah.”
He signals the waiter over, and I take a sip of water, trying to steady myself.
This was a mistake. I just need to get through dinner, go home, and never talk to him again.
I’m debating whether I should make an excuse to leave early when movement near the front door catches my eye.
Echo’s here and my stomach drops so fast it feels like I’m going to be sick.
Fuck.
He stops just inside the entrance, scanning the restaurant, cataloging every exit, every face, every potential threat. Then his eyes find mine. And they’re cold.
Not the controlled calm I’m used to. Not the careful neutrality he wears like armor. Cold. Hard. Lethal.
My eyes widen, and I open my mouth, desperate to say something that’ll get me up from this table before Echo reaches it. But my brain stalls, and he’s already moving.
Echo cuts through the dining room with long, purposeful strides that make the space feel smaller. People glance up as he passes. A waiter steps aside instinctively. Even the indistinct murmur of conversation seems to dip as he approaches.
Echo doesn’t just walk into a room. He fills it. And right now, standing at the edge of our table, he seems to tower over everything. Over Josh. Over the chandelier above us. Over the whole fucking restaurant. I have to tilt my head back just to meet his gaze.
He’s wearing his dark coat, the one that makes his shoulders look even broader. His jaw is tight. His hands are still tucked into his pockets, but there’s tension radiating off him in waves. He looks like he’s holding himself back from doing something violent.
I study his face for a beat, searching for something. Softness, hesitation, anything that tells me he’s not about to cause a scene. But there’s nothing. Just that cold, controlled fury I’ve only seen once before. In the alley.
My chest tightens with a confusing tangle of relief and dread. Relief, because the part of me that craves his presence is happy to see him. And dread, because I know he’s not here just to talk.
“Bambi,” he says quietly. “Let’s go.”
Josh’s eyes ping-pong between me and Echo.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Echo exhales and levels Josh with an icy glare.
“Getting you away from him.”
Josh flinches, his polite smile faltering. “I’m sorry?”
Echo ignores him and sets his gaze on me.
“He’s dangerous, Bambi.”
Josh laughs once and swallows. “What are you talking about?”
“He googled you.” Echo says, clenching his jaw. “Before you started seeing each other, he knew everything about you.”
Echo’s words land like a bomb, and silence crashes over the table. I can hear the low rumblings of conversation from the tables around us. The soft clinking of silverware against porcelain. But at our table, there's nothing but complete and utter silence.
Echo doesn’t repeat himself. He just stands there staring Josh down like he’s waiting for him to crack.
“What?” Josh shakes his head and gives Echo a tight-lipped smile. “Are you serious? Everyone googles people before they go out with them.”
I chew on my lip. He’s right. Everyone does that. I did it too, before Josh and I started dating.
“You didn’t just look up her social media,” Echo sneers. “You dug into everything about her.” He pauses, letting the words settle. “Multiple times.”
Josh looks at me, and his smile tightens at the edges as his jaw flexes. “Doll, that’s normal, right?”
I glare at Josh and find myself at a loss for words. If he did try to dig into my past, he wouldn’t have found anything. I changed my name ten years ago and barely have an online presence now.
Still, that isn’t normal. It’s weird.
“He did it weeks before he even had your number,” Echo adds, curling his lip. “There’s nothing normal about that.”
Josh’s soft expression falters, just for a second, before he quickly forces it back on. He leans back in his chair and rubs the back of his neck.
“Look, I saw you in the bookstore before we met,” he says, keeping his voice light. “I didn't know how to talk to you. So yeah, I looked you up, and I probably took it too far.” He glances at me, his eyes soft. “I just wanted to be prepared for when I worked up the nerve to talk to you.”
His excuse is plausible. Expected even, given what I know about him. He’s exactly the kind of man who would want to be fully prepared before he approached me. Still. That doesn’t make it okay. Not by a long shot.
“He’s a liar, Bambi,” Echo says flatly. “You can’t trust him.”
I look up at Echo, and something in me snaps. Not because anything he’s saying is wrong. In fact, I’m sure he’s right, but the thing is, he shouldn’t be.
He shouldn't know Josh’s search history.
He shouldn’t know what he looked up or when or how many fucking times he did it.
But he does, and chances are, he’s been monitoring my search history too.
Digging into my life. Into the people I talk to.
Into the choices I make. Without asking. Without permission.
The realization slaps me in the face.
Echo didn’t just happen to run into us. He’s been watching. Cataloging. Collecting data on every person who gets close to me, treating me like I’m something he needs to manage. And what’s worse is he doesn’t even see a problem with it.
He’s standing there, jaw tight, eyes cold, fully convinced he’s protecting me. That this is what I need. What I deserve. But all I can think is that he’s doing the same thing Josh did. The same thing Christian did all those years ago.
Making decisions for me. Crossing boundaries he has no right to cross. The only difference is Echo is better at hiding his tracks.
I stand up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“Echo, can we talk?” I ask, my voice shaking, as I lock my eyes on his. “Alone?”
He glances at Josh, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he’s debating whether or not he could get away with snapping his neck in a restaurant full of witnesses. Then he gives me a stiff nod and steps back from the table.
I follow him toward the entrance, and the second we’re out of earshot from everyone else, I turn to face him.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss.
“Keeping you safe.”
“From what? A dinner date?”
“From him.” He replies through clenched teeth. “Bambi, I know you don’t want to hear this, but Josh is dangerous.”
“And how did you figure that out?” I ask, crossing my arms. “Did you run a background check? Hack into his computer? What?”
Echo presses his lips together.
“Did you do the same thing to me?” I ask softly. “Is that—is that how you knew where to find me?”
He doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.
“Oh, my fucking god.” I say, pressing my fingers to my temples as every coincidence that wasn’t a coincidence runs through my head. “You have been, haven’t you?”
“Bambi—”
“No.” I drop my hands and look at him. At the hard line of his mouth.
At the tension radiating off him in waves.
At the way he’s crowding me, like he’s trying to physically block me from going back to the table.
“You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to dig into people’s lives without asking.
You don’t get to show up and make decisions for me. ”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I never asked you to protect me!”
Echo goes still. Completely, utterly still.
For a moment, neither of us says anything. I can hear my own breathing. Can feel the heat creeping up my neck, and the sting of tears I refuse to let fall.
“Look. I hear you,” I say finally, forcing my voice to steady. “I get it, and I believe you. I know you think you’re helping. But this is my problem to handle. Not yours.” I swallow hard, my throat tight. “So please, just go.”
“I’m not leaving you with him.”
“Echo, I swear to God, if you don’t stop, I will never ever speak to you again. Is that what you want?”
Echo stares at me. And I see the exact moment my words hit him. Hurt flashes across his face, and his jaw clenches so hard I’m afraid his teeth might crack. Then, without saying another word, he turns and walks out.
The door swings shut behind him, and I immediately want to take back everything that just happened. Every word. Every accusation. Every single thing that made the one person I can be myself with, look at me like that.
Even though it hurts, I force myself to turn around. And after taking a second to clear my head, I walk back to the table on legs that don’t quite feel like my own.
Josh watches me approach, and the smugness in his expression makes my stomach churn. He literally looks like he just won something, which pisses me off because what just happened had nothing to do with him.
“That was intense,” Josh says, smiling at me as I take my seat across from him.
“Yeah.” I reply, placing the napkin on my lap without really looking at him. “It was.”
He leans forward. “What the hell was his problem, anyway?”
I glare at him.
Is he really going to blame this all on Echo? I mean, sure, Echo’s tactics completely crossed the line, but nothing he said was untrue. It is weird that Josh looked into my past before he met me, and for him to not even apologize or at the very least acknowledge that what he did was wrong is crazy.
Fuck this. I don’t even want to be here. And it’s not like I plan on seeing him again after this, so what’s the point of forcing myself to sit through this dinner?
“Actually,” I say, grabbing my purse as I stand up from the table. “I’m gonna go.”
Josh cocks his head. “What? We haven’t even eaten yet.”
“I know. But this isn’t going anywhere, and it’s not fair for me to pretend like it is.”
“Dahlia, wait—” He says, reaching for my hand, but I manage to pull back before he can touch me.
“Don’t,” I say firmly.
His expression hardens. “You’re serious.”
“Yes.”
“Because of him?”
“Because of me.” I take a step back. “And because of what you did. Regardless of your intentions, digging into my past like that was wrong, Josh. I’m done. We’re done.”
I turn and walk out before he can say anything else.
The second I’m outside, I stop and pull out my phone. No new messages. I stare at the screen, waiting for some kind of sign from Echo that I know isn’t coming. He’s gone. And I’m the one who told him to go.
I lock my phone and slip it back into my purse, knowing that for the first time in weeks, I’m completely on my own. No one watching. No one following. No one making decisions for me.
This is what I wanted.
So why does it feel like I just made a huge mistake?