There’s a sharp inhale on the other end. Then Tom’s voice, final and shaking: “Stay away from me.”
The line goes dead.
Daniel lowers the phone slowly, staring at the dark screen. The rejection hits sharp, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s used to this dance. Push, pull, block, unblock. Love, fury, silence. He knows Tom better than Tom knows himself — knows that outrage now is a doorway later.
He’ll take another approach. He has time.
At the desk, he pulls Tom’s laptop towards him, flips it open, and types with practised ease. Passwords are never difficult; Tom’s used the same one for years.
He scrolls fast and deliberate. Not here for browsing, not here to wallow in nostalgia. He’s looking for something specific. Something he needs before it’s too late.
His fingers drum against the keys. He’s a lawyer, after all. He knows exactly what he can get away with — and exactly what he’s willing to risk.
Because Tom may think he’s finished with him.
But Daniel knows better.
There’s far too much at stake.
Chapter 34
TOM
Two days.
That’s how long it’s been since Pete told me to leave him alone, his voice quiet and broken, like the words weighed ten tonnes just to lift out of his mouth. Two days since the bruises on his face burned themselves into my brain. Two days of silence.
And here I am, sat in my car outside his house like some sort of amateur stalker.
Irony isn’t dead; it’s alive, well, and laughing at me from the passenger seat. Just yesterday I told Daniel to stop stalking me, stop circling my life like a vulture, and now look at me. Parked like a creep, checking my mirrors every five seconds, rehearsing imaginary conversations.
All very Baby Reindeer.
The truth? I didn’t call ahead because I thought he’d say no. Better to ambush. Terrible strategy for healthy relationships, great for emotionally fraught stand-offs.
As I wait, Daniel’s face barges into my thoughts like it always does. That phone call, his voice, the way he denied everything — like he hadn’t been following me, like I was making it up.
That I’d blocked him.
I hadn’t. I know I hadn’t. Regardless, I check. I scroll through my phone, thumbs clumsy with nerves.
And there it is: Daniel, blocked.
My stomach drops.
I didn’t block him. Did I? Maybe I did during some breakdown haze, but no, I would remember. Wouldn’t I?
No, no, someone must have done it.
But who? And how? Paranoia twitches in my brain like a faulty light switch.
I shove the phone back down, my chest buzzing with frustration. I want Daniel out of my life. Out of my head. Out of my phone. Instead, he’s like mould: grows back every time I think I’ve scrubbed him clean.
And then Evelyn.
That phone call still sits in my gut like a lead weight. Her voice cracking, her words tangled, talking about the blood, the pain Guy must have gone through.
She doesn’t know.
