As I slam my front door shut, I realize my bag was open and I lost half my groceries on the street, but I don’t care.
I don’t care about groceries.
Archer found me, and there isnoreason he would have been in this part of town if he weren’t looking for me. I start flinging things into my bag, needing to run away, but then I make myself stop.
“Don’t let him chase you away from the life you built for yourself,” I tell my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
My tiny bathroom has become the place I go to give myself a stern talking to when something has scared me, and I’m about to chicken out of doing whatever I need to. Like getting rid of a roach the size of my hand. Okay, so maybe it wasn’tactuallythe size of my hand, but you try staying calm when a roach is running at you.
I lean closer to my reflection and meet my terrified brown gaze. “This isyourlife. Don’t youdarerun. The next time you see any of them, you tell them toleave you alone. You don’t want them. You willneverwant them.”
It helps.
I’m not as jittery and panicked and afraid anymore.
“Okay,” I tell my reflection, straightening. “Okay.”
I wash my hands and walk out of my bathroom to pick up the groceries I spilled across my apartment floor and decide if enough made it home to make myself dinner.
“Hey—”
My hand jerks, my heart leaps, and I knock half the products on the shelf to the floor.
Jack looks from the products on the floor to me. “You seem jumpier than usual.”
“Sorry.” I set my duster on the shelf to grab the products I knocked over. “I didn’t hear you.”
He nods, but I feel his eyes on me as he helps me pick everything up and return it to the shelf. “You don’t have to do this, you know?”
It’s my day off, and I promised Jack that I would come and help him clean in return for his plumber friend fixing the hot water in my apartment. But if I had a choice, I would still be hiding in my apartment, too afraid of bumping into my scent matches—exscent-matches—on the street to venture out.
I promised, and so I’m here cleaning the hardware store shelves for an hour, all while jumping at every bell jingle and male voice, suspecting it's Torin, Archer, or Callum back to torment me some more.
“It’s okay. I’m just…” My mouth was running faster than my brain because I’m not sure how to put into words how I feel.
We get everything up off the floor, and Jack turns to face me. “You’re just what?”
I chew my lip, glancing at the front of the shop to confirm we’re still alone, before I ask him, “Do you ever feel scared about something that you know you eventually have to face, but you keep hoping it’ll resolve itself if you ignore it long enough?”
It’s been two days since I saw Archer, and I keep telling myself I won’t see him again.
But what if he finds me?
I gave myself the sternest talking to I ever have before, and I meant every word. Yet I’m like a lit firework about to go off, twitching and jumpy and terrified.
And I know myself. If I see Archer, Torin, or Callum again, Iwillrun, because they scare me more than any roach ever will.
Jack’s lips twitch, and a flare of amusement flickers across his gaze. “Idoknow. How about a break?”
I’ve barely cleaned anything. Mostly moved stuff around and jumped at every sound, trying to convince myself that any male voice I hear isn’t one of my scent matches back to drag me into their world. I might as well let Jack distract me for a bit.
“Sure.”
I follow Jack to the back of his shop, where he has a tiny office and wall shelves so loaded down with inventory it’s a wonder they haven’t fallen. I take a seat in the wobbly chair on the other side of a desk packed with even more stuff. “Aren’t you afraid someone will come in while you’re in the back?” I ask.
He snorts. “Unlikely. You want a drink?”
I shake my head.
