“This year,” she continued, “when the anniversary came and went last month and I didn’t get any photos, I thought it was over. I thought whoever was sending the photos was done.”
Xander’s eyes narrowed. “You’d just moved to Hudson Island, right?”
She nodded. “At the beginning of October.”
“Because of the photos?”
“Kinda. I mean, it was a factor.” She shrugged. “My old landlord was a friend of my oldest brother. The one before that was related to my youngest brother’s coworker. And the one before that was a friend of the twins. I wanted my move to Hudson to be a fresh start. For the first time, I was moving somewhere that wasn’t tied to my family. I’m twenty-nine and figured it was well past time to do it on my own, you know?”
“It’s understandable you wanted independence,” he murmured.
“But I’d be lying if I said the photos had nothing to do with my move. I purposely timed it so it was right before the anniversary. Whoever the sender is finds me everywhere I go. So I kept my new address here on Hudson pretty quiet. I didn’t even tell my brothers. There was that snafu with my new address and the post office, so my boss allowed me to use the Pacific View as my forwarding address.”
His eyes narrowed. “The photos you got recently were delivered to your work, right?”
“Yeah, you were there.” She sighed, defeat threatening to overtake her. “Whoever it was didn’t forget. The package just got delayed in the post office’s mail-forwarding process. I suppose the one positive is that they don’t have my new address since it was originally sent to my old address on Whidbey.”
“Did you keep the other photos?”
She cringed as she nodded. “I did. They’re all in a box in my closet.” Morbid, but true. “They’d arrive, and I’d look at them, cry, and then stuff them back into their envelopes and shove them into the box. I tried to throw them away once, but it felt... wrong.” She’d held on to them as a reminder—not that she’d ever forget—of what she’d done. Of the pain she’d caused.
“You kept them to punish yourself.”
It was like he could read her mind.
“Maybe,” she whispered before clearing her throat. “But when the photos became scary, I kept them just in case...”
“In case?” he prodded.
“In case something happened to me,” she admitted, her stomach twisting. “I’ve never told my brothers about the photos. If something happens to me, there’ll be the photos to let them know why.”
The wrinkle between Xander’s brow popped. “You didn’t tell your brothers? Not even the one who’s a cop?”
She shook her head. “After the accident, I pulled away from them. The photos of me and Sarah were like a kick to the face. I was too wrapped up in my grief, and then my guilt, to realize how creepy the photos of me at the cemetery were. It didn’t quite register that someone had been following me—especially the cemetery photos that were taken years later. When the photos took a darker turn, a decade had passed. I guess I felt stupid for not letting my brothers know earlier. They’ve always been overprotective, and I knew if I told them, it would turn into another fight. Another Freya-can’t-take-care-of-herself thing.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “Yet you kept the photos in case whoever this person is comes after you. So your brothers would know—aftersomething happened to you—that someone wished you’d died instead of Sarah.”
She fought a wince. When he put it that way, she was a top candidate for being too stupid to live. “In a nutshell.”
“When we go back to your place, can I take the photos and show them to my team? You mentioned putting them back in their envelopes, so maybe... I don’t know... Maybe there’s a fingerprint or something they can find.”
Was that even possible? “Um, sure.”
“I can’t promise we’ll find anything, but it doesn’t hurt to check, right? Now, come here,” he murmured, pulling her close and wrapping her in his arms. When her head was restingcomfortably on his chest, he ran a hand up her spine. “Tell me about Sarah. What was she like?”
For the first time since their conversation had started, the image that popped into her mind of her friend wasn’t from the car accident, of Sarah’s vacant green eyes, or of her friend lying so utterly still in her casket. Instead, she thought of her kind best friend sitting beside her and holding her hand at her parents’ funeral.
“Sarah was the best.” The tip of Freya’s nose tickled, and her throat grew thick. God, she missed her friend. She sniffed as a bittersweet smile lifted her lips. “We met on the first day of first grade. My mom had dropped me off, and I was so scared. Then this blond girl with bright-green eyes came right up to me, told me her name, and asked if I wanted to be best friends...”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Monday morning came way too soon. Freya was struggling with an emotional hangover. Yes, waking up in Xander’s arms again had been amazing—and yes, the man had once again skipped his early morning workout—but all the tears she’d shed as they’d talked into the night had left her with a raging headache.
She’d taken some Tylenol before she’d left Xander’s place, but they’d yet to kick in. Regardless, as she placed her purse into her locker, she couldn’t help but smile. The man was truly something else.
Yesterday, he’d given her the most pleasure—wild, sexy, sweet, and everything in between—and then he’d taken care of her heart, her soul. He’d listened without judgement... about everything. And through it all, he’d held her. He’d wrapped his arms around her, cocooning her until she’d felt safe.
How was it even possible that she trusted him so completely in such a short time span. It had only been a week. Granted, it had been an intense week, but still only a week. And yet she was falling for him.
