What am I doing?
I flew across the country to meet a stranger who paid off my debts, and now I'm angry at him for trying to help me. I'm angry because he's right, because the money did give me freedom, because I don't know how to accept help without feeling like I'm giving up control.
My phone buzzes. Chloe.
How's it going? Did you meet him?
I stare at the message for a long time before typing back.
Met him. Had dinner. It's complicated.
Good complicated or bad complicated?
I don't know yet.
Do you feel safe?
I look around the cottage, at the impeccable furniture and the ocean view and I think about Phoenix standing in his dining room, watching me leave, not stopping me.
Yes. I feel safe.
Okay. Call me if that changes.
I will.
I set my phone down and walk to the window. From here, I can see the main house, lit up against the darkening sky. There's a figure in one of the windows. Too far away to see clearly, but I know it's him.
Phoenix Crawford. The man who gave me freedom and somehow made me feel more trapped than ever.
I watch him watching me through the window. Even from here, I can feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his focus.
He doesn't move. Doesn't look away.
Neither do I.
We stand there in our separate buildings, staring at each other across the dark pathway, and something passes between us. A challenge? A promise? Maybe a threat.
My phone buzzes.
I don't want to look at it. Don't want to break this moment. But I do anyway.
Tomorrow.
Just one word from an unknown number. But I know who it's from.
When I look back up, he's gone from the window.
But I can still feel him watching.
10
PHOENIX
She's angry.
Good.
I watch through the window as Jade storms down the pathway to the guest cottage, her shoulders rigid, her pace quick. The motion-sensor lights illuminate her as she passes, and even from here I can see the tension in every line of her body.
