“One of the most dangerous things to a woman is their ex-boyfriend.”
“Aside from you, you mean?”
He glowers down at me.
“Don’t worry about me. This is temporary until I find a new boyfriend who will fall head over heels for me and let me move in because he just can’t stand to be away from me.”
“You—” He blows a curse through his teeth and turns on his heel. “I’m fucking done with you.”
It takesa good long minute of mindless scrolling through Instagram and trying to calm down before I’m able to doze off.
It doesn’t help that Truman is grumpy and grumbling as he paws at the seats, trying to get comfortable.
The problem is that as soon as I drift off, I think I see his face—Brock there, shadowy in the rear window, face right up to the glass…
Watching me…
Waiting…
24
MCCARTHY
I’m sitting in my home office, watching her on the camera feed as she reacts excitedly at the box of her clothes I left her because I cannot have them in my house any longer. They’re a liability.
Now she’s bumbling around, talking to the dog.
I turn the camera feed off when she’s dressing. You can’t see much through the tinted windows, but she opens the door so she can put on her shoes more easily. She tugs up her tights when she steps out to grab her stuff and the ever-multiplying accessories barnacled to the oversize white cup.
I count down to the elevator dinging, then Truman’s nails and dog tags jingle.
Jenna’s heels click on my floor as she jaunts into my study.
I stare at her flatly.
She’s still bubbly, but there are some cracks. Her eye makeup is a little bit wonky.
I don’t even say hello when she gives a chirpy “Good morning!”
Three days, tops, then she breaks.
Jenna rubs at her eye then winces.
And I see… My mother would try to cover up bruises with makeup, but I always knew.
I should have been monitoring the goddamn camera feed.
“Where is he? How did he get in?”
Jenna squeaks as I jump up from my desk. She scurries back, waving that stupid cup with all its charms between us. I grab her face and wipe at the makeup under her eye. The bruise is fresh.
Then I feel sick.
“Did I do that? Jenna.” I cup her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“God, no, you didn’t.” She mumbles something.
“Did I just hear you say Nathan did it?”
