Chapter 19 One Year Prior
Chapter nineteen
One year prior
Niko
She doesn’t see me.
She never does.
Trying my hardest to stay concealed, I stand across the street beneath the shuddering blink of a broken lamppost, next to a bus stop.
Its light cutting in and out like a heartbeat.
Rain dots the bus-shelter glass, blurring my reflection, bending her shape into something ghostly and untouchable.
The bar behind her throws a soft gold glow onto the sidewalk.
She’s alone now. Just her, the light, and the empty street.
She wasn’t alone, though. For the last three hours, Cal Masters had her undivided attention.
Not me.
Him.
During the evening and with my baseball cap pulled low, I sat at the bar, keeping a comfortable distance to stay unnoticed as I watched.
I watched her bat her eyelashes at him.
I watched him touch her leg.
I watched her laugh at literally everything that came out of his mouth.
I watched it all.
I was so disgusted with the whole thing. But I had to keep my anger at her in check.
And how did I know she would be here tonight? Well, in case you haven’t figured it out … I’ve been watching her. Making sure she’s safe while also waiting for the right time to make a move.
I’m patient. I can wait for her to come to me.
Unlike that idiot. Cal walked away a minute ago.
How could he let Rose slip through his fingers? I thought for sure I would have to stoop to some pretty drastic measures if this turned into something between them.
But instead, he bolted on that obnoxious bike of his.
Ba-bye.
I saw how he leaned in, close enough for her to hold her breath. The way she waited. Her eyes closed as her chin tilted—expecting a kiss that woudn’t come. When he pulled back, hurt flashed across her face. It was small and quick, but it hit me like voltage.
He doesn’t deserve her.
No one does.
They don’t see what I see.
Because Rose is different. She always has been. I knew it the first night we met. The way she laughed a beat too early, and how she studied people like she was taking them apart to see how they worked. She pretends she’s fragile, but I know better. There’s strength in her. Wild, unguarded strength.
And we trust each other.
At least, I thought she did.
I mean, of course, I knew she was shadowing him. I watched her walk into the station that first day and every day they worked together. So, he was definitely on my radar. Anyone who comes into her circle who is that handsome and a single guy, well, I have to keep tabs on them.
But she didn’t tell me about Cal.
And that’s when I knew she liked him.
We still talk. Daily.
There’s texting and sometimes calls when the nights of writing get long for her.
She doesn’t know that I’m often closer than she thinks.
While she talks, I stand at my usual perch across the street, just enough for me to see her clearly.
She talks about her mom, how much she misses her dad, her writing, her dreams. Maggie.
She knows I listen because of my big heart.
But I know more than she imagines.
I know where she goes when she’s restless, which coffee shop keeps her favorite blend after hours. I know her routines, her shortcuts, the way her living-room curtain leaves a two-inch gap where the city light spills through. And how that window doesn’t quite lock.
I know how she arranges her makeup and where she keeps the remote. I know how her sheets smell. And I know the perfect amount of treats to give her dog, Juno, to keep him quiet.
We’re buddies.
So of course, I had to be here tonight.
When she told me she had plans, I had to come. Funny how the little flirt left out who she was meeting.
I needed to see, although I knew.
And now I have.
Cal left her behind; his strides were clipped, one hand brushing his jaw like he’s second-guessing himself. He didn’t turn back. Just got on that bike and rode away.
From Rose!
God, what a loser.
She stands unmoving. Hurt etches across her face as her arms wrap tight around her body. Her breath fogs in the cool night air as she stares down the street. Like she can still will him to turn around.
She won’t call out. Please, I know my girl too well. Did you have any doubts?
That’s when it happens. A realization clicks.
This is the moment.
This is my chance.
She’s open and vulnerable now. Like a wounded animal.
And I can save her.
Me.
I’m the one.
I’ll show her that someone’s been paying attention all along.
I step off the curb, the lamplight dying behind me.
Tires hiss through puddles as cars pass, spraying water over my shoes.
The night reeks of wet asphalt and spilled whiskey from the bar’s trash can.
My distorted reflection ripples in the street, but I recognize the smile spreading there. I’m in control and certain.
By the time I reach the other side, I already know what to say. I’ve practiced every word. How they’ll sound, how they’ll land.
I know the exact warmth she’ll hear in my voice, the kind that makes people drop their guard.
This isn’t chance.
It's rehearsal meeting reality.
I slow my steps before she turns, already picturing the surprise in her eyes. There will be confusion at first. But then recognition, followed by relief.
Because she’ll see me now.
She’ll have to.
The way I’ve been waiting for her to.
She’s mine now.
And this time, she won’t walk away.