Boone doesn’t look at me right away. When he does, his gaze is controlled.
“You don’t have to tell us anything,” he says. “But if you want to, we’re listening.”
My chest gives.
“A couple of days ago, I was at the café,” I say quietly. “And Savannah gave me his number.”
All three of them react at once.
“Savannah?” Silas repeats, brows shooting up.
“The barista?” Caleb asks.
Boone’s eyes sharpen. “She gave you his number?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “She thought it was a job lead. He came in asking about me, said he was looking to hire someone. Left it like it was no big deal.”
Silas swears under his breath. “That’s?—”
“I know,” I say. “I know how it sounds.”
Boone leans forward. “You thought it was legitimate?”
“I did. I wasn’t interested in… getting another job.” I meet his gaze, ignoring the tightness in my chest. “The text was professional. Nothing that screamed Marcus.”
Caleb frowns. “And you didn’t recognize the number?”
“No.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t his old number. I told myself it was just… information. That I didn’t have to do anything with it.”
Silas studies me. “You were curious.”
“Yes,” I admit. “I wasn’t looking to go back. I just wanted to know what it was.”
Boone exhales slowly through his nose, reining anger in. “And then?”
“I walked into the café and saw him sitting there,” I say. “Like I was late to his meeting.”
Silas’s jaw tightens. “Shit.”
“I turned to leave immediately,” I continue. “But he followed me, trying to talk about New York. About how I was ‘wasting myself’ here. I walked away, but seeing him brought all those memories back. Silas found me…”
I pause, well aware that they saw the state I was in yesterday, no matter how hard I tried to keep it together.
“He kept sending messages, and I realized he wasn’t going to leave me alone unless I put a stop to it. So I agreed to meet him. And then this morning, when I firmly told him no,” I say, quieter now, “when I told him I wasn’t going back, he grabbed my wrist.”
The room goes still.
Boone doesn’t move at all. Silas’s hands flex at his sides. Caleb’s jaw locks hard.
“He didn’t hurt me,” I add, automatically. “Not violently. It wasn’t… dramatic.”
Boone looks straight at me. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“It was just enough,” I say softly. “Enough to remind me that he could.”
Silas is rough. “That’s manipulation, Delaney.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I just didn’t see it in time.”
