Chapter Nine
Paris
I barely sleep a wink. Every time I close my eyes, I see him…those piercing blue eyes when I accused him, the pain in his face when I told him to leave. My chest feels raw, like I’ve been scraped out from the inside.
By the time dawn creeps in, I can’t take it anymore. I tug on leggings, an old sweatshirt, and sneakers, padding quietly down the stairs. Maybe a jog will clear my head. Maybe if I run hard enough, the ache in my chest will shut up for a while.
But when I step into the kitchen, the faint clatter of pans stops me short.
Mom’s already awake, standing at the stove in her robe, hair pinned back in a loose bun. She’s whisking eggs like it’s the most natural thing in the world at six in the morning. The smell of butter hangs in the air.
She looks up, startled but smiling. “Paris. You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” I mutter, going for the fridge. I grab a bottle of water, trying to look casual, but I can feel her eyes on me. She’s definitely not one to let things go.
Mom goes back to stirring, but her voice is gentle. “Was it…because of him?”
My chest tightens. I take a long drink of water just to avoid answering, but she doesn’t press. Not yet. She never does.
Finally, I set the bottle down, the plastic crinkling under my grip. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”
She hums, sliding the pan off the burner. “Why don’t you tell me?”
So I do. I spill everything in a rush, words tumbling out faster than I can stop them.
The roses, the texts, the night I woke up certain someone was in my room.
And then finally finding out it was him.
The same man who kissed me, touched me, made me feel safe…
and then betrayed me in the same breath.
By the time I finish, my throat feels raw and my eyes sting. “I told him to leave,” I whisper, more to myself than her. “But now I can’t stop thinking about him. Like…what if I made a mistake?” I swallow hard. “Do you think I made the right call?”
Mom sets down her whisk, wiping her hands on a towel before leaning against the counter. She watches me for a long moment, her expression thoughtful.
“Honey,” she says softly, “I’m not saying what he did was right. Following you, keeping secrets…that isn’t fair to you.”
I nod, pressing my palms into the counter, bracing myself.
“But.” Her voice gentles even more. “You didn’t say he hurt you. You said you felt safe with him.”
I look at her sharply. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” she agrees. “But maybe it means something. Maybe he was trying to protect you, in his own…broken way. Maybe he’s not the monster you think.”
Her words dig under my skin, burrowing into the place I’ve been trying to shut off since last night. I wrap my arms around myself, whispering, “He doesn’t look at me like someone he wants to hurt.”
Mom’s smile is small, knowing. “No. He looks at you like someone he’d die for.”
The air rushes out of me. My eyes blur, and I blink fast, desperate to keep it together. “I don’t know if I can forgive him.”
“You don’t have to decide now,” she says gently. “But maybe…don’t shut the door all the way. Sometimes people carry scars we don’t see. And sometimes, those scars make them do foolish things.”
I press my hand to my chest, where the ache refuses to ease. Foolish things. Like watching me from the shadows. Like leaving me roses and kissing me like I was the only thing keeping him alive.
It’s crazy, but I miss him. It’s not even been twenty-four hours yet.
Mom watches me with that soft, sweet gaze, and I know she’s done—at least for now.
Then her lips twitch, just a little. “Besides, if I were your age and a man like that looked at me the way he looks at you…” She fans herself dramatically with the dish towel.
“Well, your father would have some competition.”
“Mom!” I laugh, choking on my water, heat rushing to my face.
She grins, satisfied with herself. “What? I still have eyes, you know.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head, but the knot in my chest eases a little. Typical Mom…always knows when to break the heaviness with a joke.
“Okay,” I mutter, tucking the bottle under my arm. “I’m going for that run now before you traumatize me further.”
She chuckles, shooing me toward the door. “Be safe. Don’t go too far.”
The cold morning air hits me like a slap as I step outside, mist clinging to the grass and the edge of the fields. I start off slow, stretching my muscles before easing into a steady pace down the quiet road.
But running doesn’t clear my head. Not today. Every step just drives me deeper into the mess that is Myles Carter.
I told him to leave. And he did. Just like that.
And maybe that’s what’s killing me.
If what Mom said is true—if he really was trying to protect me, if all of this came from a place of something more, then why didn’t he fight harder to stay? Why didn’t he explain? Why didn’t he tell me the truth before it all exploded?
I push harder, my sneakers slapping against the asphalt, lungs burning.
Was everything we shared a lie? The way he touched me like I was the only thing he wanted? The way he made me feel safe, cherished, seen? God, the way he kissed me…like he’d been starving his whole life and I was the first taste of something real.
You don’t fake that. Do you?
My chest squeezes, and I slow to a jog, then a walk, my breath clouding in the air. I press a hand over my heart like I can steady the chaos inside. But it’s no use.
Because the more I think about him, the clearer it gets.
I’m in love with Myles Carter.
The thought knocks the air out of me, almost more than the run itself. It’s insane, reckless, but it’s the truth. Somewhere between the roses on my doorstep and the sound of his gravel-rough voice, between the silences in that old truck and the fire in his kiss, I fell.
And now I can’t stop.
Even knowing what I know…his secrets, his obsession…I can’t unfeel the way my soul recognizes his. Myles Carter is the kind of man I should’ve run from the second I saw him. Instead, I let him in. And maybe, just maybe, I don’t regret it.
Suddenly, I feel a familiar prickle crawl up my neck, sharp enough to make me stumble. My breath catches, and I stop dead, spinning on my heel.
The road is empty. Just the stretch of asphalt, the tree line, mist curling low to the ground. No cars. No people. Nothing.
I let out a shaky laugh, pressing a hand to my chest. “Get a grip, Paris. You’re just—”
“Paris.”
I freeze at the sound of my name. I look up slowly to see a familiar shape walking toward me from the shadows.
Daniel Meyers.
My blood runs cold.
He steps out like he owns the space, hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk curling on his lips. But there’s nothing friendly about it. Nothing boyish or cute like the Danny I remember. His eyes are sharp, dark, and way too…interested.
“Out for a jog?” he drawls. “All alone?”
“Yeah…” I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t know you were also out on a run.”
“I wasn’t. I followed you.”
My heartbeat picks up again at an abnormal pace. “W-what are you talking about?”
He snorts, then steps closer to me, outright invading my space.
“Why do you keep pushing me away, Paris?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a silky whisper.
“I’ve wanted you since we were kids. Now that I think I might finally have a chance, you come home with some stalker bastard.
Good thing he’s out of the picture now, I can have you to myself.
” He hooks his hand around my waist to jerk me roughly against his body.
I gasp loudly in shock, instinctively shoving him away. He stumbles backward, muttering a long list of profanities. I spin around quickly and start to run, but I don’t get far. His hand snags my arm and he yanks me back. Hard.
Pain shoots through my shoulder as I stumble, clawing at his grip.
“Let me go!” I thrash, panic clawing up my throat. “Danny, stop!”
But he doesn’t. His fingers dig in tighter, nails biting. His breath is hot and sour against my ear. “You always did run, didn’t you? Always too good for me. But look at you now—”
“Stop it!” My voice cracks. I twist, trying to rip free, but he’s stronger than I remember. Stronger, and angrier.
Panic floods my veins. For a split second, I wonder if this is it. If I’ll end here, choking on fear in the town I grew up in. A place I thought was safe.
But then a familiar voice cuts through the panic in my head.
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
It’s a low, lethal command. Familiar yet chilling to the bones.
Myles.
He steps out of the tree line like he was carved out of darkness itself. Broad shoulders, cold eyes, every inch of him radiating controlled violence.
Danny jolts, but doesn’t let go of my arm. His laugh is brittle. “What the hell? Aren’t you supposed to be back in hell where you came from?”
“Hold on to her one second longer and I’ll be sure to break every damn bone in your body.” Myles lowers his voice further with every word, his gaze colder.
Danny sneers, tightening his hold. “Tell him to fucking leave! Now!”
I gasp, thrashing harder. “Myles!”
In a blur, he’s on us. One hand clamps around Danny’s wrist, twisting until I hear the sickening crack of bone. Danny screams, releasing me instantly. Myles shoves me behind him with a single motion, his body a wall between me and the threat.
“You alright?” His eyes flick over me, quick, assessing, even as Danny writhes on the ground clutching his arm.
I nod, too shaken to speak, clutching his jacket like a lifeline.
Myles turns back to Danny, crouching low, voice soft but full of dark promise. “You lay another finger on her, and I’ll bury you so deep they’ll never find you.”
Danny’s face twists in fear, and for the first time since I saw him again, he looks small. Weak.
I stand behind Myles, my heart racing wildly, staring at the man I swore I hated just last night, when it dawns on me—
I’ve never felt safer than I do with him.