Chapter 21
Katelyn
“Thank you so much,” I tell Mr. Rodney, one of the usuals at the diner, when he hands me a twenty as a tip. “You really don’t need to do this.”
“Nonsense. I heard about what happened at your apartment last week. Such a shame. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask, girl. We take care of our own ’round here.” He smiles at me, his cheeks pink, and I have to actively fight the tears in my eyes.
All week, I’ve had people casually offering me their help should I need clothes, shoes, or other household items now that my apartment will be finished tonight.
Apparently, word has spread, courtesy of my landlord, Geoff.
A man whom I still have never met in person, but who has always been beyond kind whenever we’re on the phone.
It all adds up to one more reason why I really don’t want to leave this town.
It’s the closest thing I’ve had to family since walking away from mine.
As it always does, the thought of my parents results in a stabbing pain in my chest. The grief still hasn’t dissipated. Likely because, if I were brave enough, I could reach out to them. They would welcome me with open arms, even despite everything I’ve done.
They would welcome Thomas.
Keep it together, Katelyn.
I swallow down the pain and shove the twenty into my pocket. “Thanks again, Mr. Rodney. Can I get you some more coffee?”
“Nope, I’m plenty caffeinated.” He beams at me. “See you around, Miss Katelyn.”
“See you,” I reply as the older man gets up from the barstool he’s been occupying for the last hour and heads out into the night.
As I do every time I get a break, I check my phone for a message from Thomas.
There haven’t been any since this afternoon, but I know one will be coming in soon.
He always texts or calls right before dinner.
The days that have passed haven’t made it any easier to cope with him being away for the first time, but I am so happy I let him go. If I hadn’t, he wouldn’t be having the amazing time he is.
And I likely wouldn’t be where I am with Garrison.
I smile to myself, then shove my phone back into my apron and clear the dirty dishes from the counter. Thoughts of Garrison occupy my mind. Our first kiss, and every one since. Soft promises of letting me set the pace. Of understanding that I need to move slow, given everything I’ve been through.
Lord, how did I get so lucky?
“I know that smile,” Maddie says, pulling me from my thoughts of a handsome Navy SEAL and how excited I am for our date tonight.
My first real one ever.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply, but my smile only widens.
Maddie arches a brow. “This have anything to do with that handsome neighbor of yours? You know, the one who was in here earlier and couldn’t take his eyes off of you?”
The smile on my face widens so much that it actually makes my cheeks ache. “Maybe.”
“Girl, it’s about time!”
“What does that mean?”
“Do you know how many times since you started working here, he’s done just that? Of course, it was never so obvious. He’d sit with the others and glance over whenever you weren’t looking.”
It’s news to me, but honestly, it makes me even happier. “Really?”
“Really. The guy has had it bad for you for a while now.”
“I guess the timing is finally right.” I take a deep breath. “He makes me feel so—”
“Alive?” she asks.
“Yes. And beautiful. He looks at me like I’m the only one in the world.”
“That’s how a good man should look at you.”
I laugh and glance back at her husband, who is currently cleaning off the grill as we get closer to closing time. “You’d know all about that. How many years has it been?”
“Twenty-seven,” she replies with a wink. “And there’s not a single moment of it I would trade for anything in the world.”
“I love that.” Will I have that, too? Will what’s between Garrison and me continue to grow? Or will we drift apart? The thought of anything changing darkens my mood just a bit. Is it possible that we’re only as close as we are now because I’m staying in his guest room?
“Whatever you’re thinking now—stop,” Maddie instructs. “You’ll damage what you have before it even has a chance to begin.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Girl, you’ve had walls up since the moment I met you. This is the first time I’ve seen you truly happy. Let it be. Don’t overthink it.” She pats my shoulder, then turns back to the register, where she’s been going through the credit card receipts.
I continue cleaning off the counter, then wipe it down with a cloth. As I straighten, movement just outside the large bay window catches my eye. I narrow my gaze, the darkness outside making it hard to see at first.
But then I see him. A hooded figure standing just across the street. Just like the one I saw on my balcony the night of the storm. Only this time, he’s directly beneath a street light—unmistakable.
My heart leaps into my chest as I take a quick step back. No. But when I blink—he’s gone. Did I imagine it?
“You okay, Katelyn?”
Heart still racing, I turn toward Maddie. She’s still standing at the register, a few feet away from me, eyes narrowed in concern.
I look back outside, but there’s no one there. “Yeah, I thought I saw—never mind.”
“What is it?” She follows my gaze out the window, but there’s nothing there.
No one.
Just a trick of my tired mind. Despite my happiness during the day, the nightmares have been in full force ever since I told Garrison about the night my life changed forever.
I should have known opening that box would have repercussions, and still I’d do it again.
Because letting even some of it out made me feel a bit lighter.
“I’m just tired, that’s all.” I force a smile. “It was a good night.”
“It was.” She returns my smile, but there’s still that layer of concern on her aging face. “Why don’t I have Ed drive you home?”
“Nah. I enjoy the walk.” Garrison had offered to come get me, too, but I insisted on walking. It’s only a mile, and to be honest, I need it so I can unwind from the day. Then I’ll be able to go into the evening unburdened.
Just the thought of it brings me a giddy excitement.
“Honey, it’s no trouble,” she insists.
“I know, but I’m fine—truly.” I gather the dishes I’d collected from Mr. Rodney’s spot, then carry them into the kitchen where Maddie’s husband, Ed, has transitioned from cleaning the grill to washing what’s left. “Here’s the last of it.”
“Rodney?” he questions, arching a brow.
I laugh. “You know it.”
“That man would close down a twenty-four-hour place,” he replies. His tone lacks all annoyance, though, since I know he and Mr. Rodney are best friends who play cards together every Sunday after church.
“So true. Do you need any help?”
“Nope. You go home to your neighbor.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes and laugh. “Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“See you then.” He begins whistling as he washes dishes, so I step back out into the main room of the diner, where Maddie is putting chairs on top of clean tables.
“You go ahead and go home, honey. Get some sleep,” Maddie tells me.
“No, I can stay and help.”
“You already refilled all the salt and pepper shakers, rolled silverware, and prepped the menus for tomorrow. You’re good. Go. Home.” She grips both of my arms gently, then pulls me in for a hug.
“Only if you’re sure.”
“I am.” Her expression darkens slightly. “Are you sure you won’t take me up on the offer to have Ed drive you home?”
“Positive. I’ll send you a text when I get home.” With a smile, I retrieve my purse and head for the door. “See you tomorrow,” I call back.
“See you then.”
She locks the door behind me as I step onto the dark street, and I remain where I am, illuminated by the light coming through the windows, until I’m absolutely sure that I’m alone.
Even now, as I make the walk home, though, I can feel eyes on me. The late-night settles around me like a thick blanket, shielding me as I move along the empty street, but the awareness is there.
A tingling in my veins.
“Hey, Pepper!”
I glance over at the nickname, just in time to see Sawyer jog toward me. He’s wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a tank top, his skin slick with sweat. The sight of a familiar face removes the rest of my nerves.
“Hey, Sawyer. Late-night run?”
He smiles and stops running to fall into step beside me. “I needed to wind down from the day.”
Jack was here this afternoon, arriving at the coffee shop while Sawyer had been there visiting with Anastasia. My guess is that’s what led to this late-night burn-off. Poor guy. I genuinely feel bad for him.
“You know, you should just tell her,” I say.
“Tell who what?” But the grin on his face tells me he knows exactly who I’m talking about. “I don’t want to ruin what she has for something that is probably just better left to the imagination.”
“You think a relationship with her is better left to the imagination? Because of her or you?”
He snorts. “Me, obviously. Anastasia is perfect.”
Laughing softly, I shake my head. “You have it so bad.”
“Eh, I—” but he’s cut off when a pair of bright headlights blind the both of us.
“Hey, man! Ever heard of low beams!” Sawyer yells into the darkness.
Right before the tires squeal to a stop.
Every ounce of Sawyer’s mood shifts, his body tensing.
It’s like I’m watching him transform from man to soldier in the blink of an eye.
“Run, Katelyn!” he bellows, turning to shield me as he shoves me back toward the diner.
I take off, my legs pumping.
But I don’t make it far.
A heavy body slams into me, taking me to the pavement. I’m flipped over onto my stomach before I can so much as scream. A hand clamps over my mouth, and my gaze finds Sawyer in the headlights, fighting off two masked men. He drops one to the ground, but a third rushes up, something in his hand.
The muffled sound of a gunshot fills my ears, and Sawyer stiffens—sinking to his knees.
“No! Help! Sawyer!” I try to scream, but the hand over my mouth is firm. One of the men rushes toward me, blocking my view of my new friend. I thrash, adrenaline pumping through my veins as my hands are zip-tied behind my back and a gag is shoved into my mouth.
Still, I continue to fight even as I’m ripped to my feet and thrown over a shoulder.
“We have to hurry! Someone could have heard that!” one of the men orders as I’m rushed toward what I now see is a white, windowless van.
Sawyer is thrown in first, blood saturating the front of his shirt. Then I’m tossed in next, landing right beside him. He groans, his breathing ragged.
The doors are shut, and a soft light illuminates the inside of the cabin. One of the men removes his mask and grins down at me, one of his front teeth missing. There’s a large scar on his face, somehow making him look even more menacing.
“Hey there, pretty,” he says, then reaches forward to run a finger over my face.
“Touch her, and I’ll cut that off,” Sawyer snarls.
The guy grins at him. “You’re in no position to make demands, are you?”
I fight against the gag as the van starts moving.
“You got something to say, pretty?” he reaches forward and tugs the gag free.
“You have to let me get pressure on his injury, or he’ll die.”
“What’s that to me?” the man asks, tone uninterested.
“Cut her loose so she can tend to him,” another man who still has his mask on says.
“Why? We weren’t here for him.”
“Boss might say otherwise. Now, cut. Her. Loose.” The order is clipped, frustrated.
With a muttered protest, the man with the scar leans forward. “Turn around, pretty. I can’t cut you free if you’re facing me.”
The idea of showing my back to this man, of being vulnerable in any way, makes my skin crawl. But Sawyer’s life depends on it, so I swallow hard…and turn.
He rips me back against his body, a move meant to intimidate. Instead of letting it work, though, I close my eyes and focus on the place I created in my mind where no one—not even Victor—could ever touch me.
The moment my hands are cut free, I shed my jacket and apply it to the wound in Sawyer’s side. He looks up at me. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have been able to help.”
“It’s not your fault.” Tears in my eyes, I keep pressure as the van barrels down the road, going who knows where. “This is my fault.”
He narrows his gaze on my face.
“They’re here for me, and you got caught in the crossfire. I’m so sorry, Sawyer. You should have kept running. Then you’d be okay.”
“But you’d be alone,” he whispers. “And don’t worry.
” He looks past me, so I follow his gaze where the man who’d cut me free is sitting at the back of the van beside the man who’d ordered him to do it.
They’re engaged in a low conversation, so I lean down closer.
“The others will come,” he says. “It’s kind of what we do. ”
I swallow hard, hoping that he’s right, but also not wanting to point out one very harsh truth: Will we be alive when they do?