Chapter 5
Alice
“Hey, Alice,” Ms. Diane greets me, meeting me at the front counter. “One white chocolate mocha to go?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I nod, smiling genuinely. Ms. Diane always remembers my order, which is one of the small comforts of my new life here.
I walk to the side of the front counter when I hear the bell jingle, stepping out of the way so I’m not blocking other customers. My attention drifts to their chalkboard menu, though I know it by heart.
"Well, well, well," a familiar voice says beside me. "What are the odds, Alice?"
No.
I turn. Lance stands there with that smug grin, the one that used to make my stomach turn.
The coffee shop tilts. Or maybe that's just me.
This can't be happening. How can he possibly have found me?
“What are you doing here?” My hands start trembling, but I try to maintain composure so he doesn’t know that he can still get to me.
“Just getting some coffee at my favorite coffee shop,” he says in that mocking tone I remember too well.
“You drove thirty minutes for coffee?” I furrow my brows at him, my voice sharper than I intended. He hates coffee.
“Well, wouldn’t you?” Lance smirks, sliding his hands into his black slacks with false casualness.
There's no way he should know about this coffee shop. He's never met my grandmother, never even been to Pine Hollows. She refused to meet him after the first time I showed up at her door with excuses I didn't believe myself.
“Alice,” Ms. Diane calls, placing my cup with the lid on the counter, waiting for me to take it.
I grasp my cup, my hands still shaking slightly. I’m not saying another word to Lance. I’ve finally been free of him for a year now, and I’m not going to get sucked into whatever twisted game he’s playing.
I turn to leave. His hand snaps out, grabs my forearm. Hard.
"Maybe we should catch up sometime." That practiced smile, the one that used to work on everyone else.
“Yeah, don’t count on it,” I scoff, pulling my arm hard enough to break free from his grip. The familiar feel of his fingers on my skin makes me nauseous.
I push the door open and step into the humid afternoon air, my legs feeling unsteady. I fumble with my key ring, catching a glimpse of my pale reflection in my driver’s side window. Against my better judgment, I glance back at the coffee shop.
He’s standing at the window, watching me. He raises his coffee cup in a mock toast. Still smiling.
Sliding into my seat, I immediately hit the door locks. I'm still shaking, so I carefully place my white mocha in the cup holder before I spill it all over myself.
I start the engine, desperate to get away from him, when something catches my attention in my peripheral vision. Parked directly next to my car—it wasn't there when I arrived, I would've noticed—a black SUV with tinted windows.
The same black SUV from outside the Cozy Cup last week.
My vision narrows. The edges go fuzzy.
The pieces start clicking together. The strange text about the house. The missed calls from unknown numbers. The SUV following me.
Lance "coincidentally" showing up at my coffee shop. Lance didn't just happen to find me.
He's been watching me.