Chapter Ninety-Five
Ruby
Moments later, I pull my phone from my pocket, letting Xavier know I’m leaving the clinic on my way to the job site.
Me: Leaving the clinic now.
Xavier's reply comes almost instantly as if he’d been waiting for my text.
Xavier: Drive safe. Let me know when you’re back.
A smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. Which probably says something I’m not ready to examine too closely.
As I stride to my car, I notice Greg leaning against his truck. Two spots down from mine. Waiting. “Well, if it isn’t Ruby.”
My stomach drops as my breath catches in my lungs. I should’ve had Lewis take the paperwork to Travis.
Every muscle in my body is tense. “What’re you doing here?”
“Vet visit.” He gestures vaguely toward the building. Same smug expression. Same invasive confidence.
I glance around. No dog. No leash. Nothing.
His smile widens. “Relax. I’m allowed to be here.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.”
He moves closer anyway. Too close. “I saw you get out of your car,” he says. “Thought maybe we could talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” The hair on my arms stands. I’ve been out of my car for over 20 minutes. I don’t know who my stalker is, but Greg’s possessive behavior toward me puts him near the top of the suspects. I need to call Jake as soon as possible.
“That’s not true.”
I move toward the driver’s door, but he shifts casually into the space beside it. Not aggressive enough to cause a scene. Just enough to make my skin crawl.
“Greg.”
He quickens an eyebrow. “What?”
“I need to get back to work.”
His gaze drifts in the direction of the construction office a few streets over. “With Xavier?”
I don’t answer.
His expression sharpens. “You know he’s not the kind of guy who sticks around, right?”
The words land directly where they’re meant to. Because some ugly little part of me hears temporary, no labels, pressure ruins things, secrets, lies.
Greg tilts his head. “I’ve been around guys like him before.”
“You don’t know anything about him.”
“No?” he says lightly. “Because from where I’m standing, he looks exactly like the kind of guy who has fun until things get complicated.”
Heat flashes through my chest. Anger. Embarrassment. Fear. Because complicated is exactly what this is becoming. “I don’t care what you think.”
“You will.” His voice stays calm. Certain. That certainty unsettles me more than if he’d yelled.
I step around him and yank the car door open.
“Ruby.”
I freeze for exactly one second.
“Be careful with him,” Greg says. “Because when he’s done… You’re going to wish you picked somebody who wanted you.”
The nausea hits hard enough that I have to grip the driver’s door tighter. I slide inside without answering him.
My hands shake as I shove the key into the ignition. And for the first time since walking into the clinic, I’m not entirely sure whether the sickness twisting in my stomach came from the garbage…
Or from how precisely Greg aimed those words where they would hurt the most.