“I promise,” I say, meaning it. “I’ll visit more. I’ve missed this place.”
“We’ve missed you,” she says, then lowers her voice. “And I want all the other details about Logan next time. The stuff you couldn’t say in front of Joyce and Bob.”
I laugh, my cheeks heating. “Deal.”
Bob waves from behind the counter, and Joyce blows me a kiss as I push open the door, coffee in hand.
The afternoon sun is bright, almost blinding after the dimness of the shop. I take a step onto the sidewalk, already thinking about the bike ride through the park Logan mentioned wanting to take later?—
A piercing, familiar grip clamps around my arm.
Pain shoots through my bicep as fingers dig in brutally, yanking me forward so hard I stumble. My coffee slips from my hand, the cup hitting the pavement and exploding in a spray of hot liquid and foam.
I gasp, my head whipping around.
Preston.
His face is twisted with rage, his eyes wild. He’s in a suit—expensive, perfectly tailored—but there’s nothing polished about him now. He looks feral.
“You think you can just leave me?” he snarls, dragging me toward the street where a black car idles at the curb. “You think you can embarrassme like this? Make me look like a fool?”
“Let go—” I try to pull away, but his grip tightens, bruising, and terror floods my system.
This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for. The other shoe dropping.
“Let go!” I scream, louder this time, trying to dig my heels in.
“Shut the fuck up?—”
There’s a blur of motion, and suddenly, Preston’s grip is gone.
He’s on the ground, face down on the concrete, and Cole is on top of him. He has one knee pressed into Preston’s back, wrenching his arms behind him with brutal efficiency.
“Don’t fucking move,” Cole growls.
Preston bucks beneath him, twisting, and his elbow connects with Cole’s jaw. But Cole barely flinches. He shifts his weight, pressing harder, and I hear Preston grunt in pain.
“Get off me!” Preston roars. “Do you know who I am? I’ll have your job—I’ll have you arrested?—”
“Yeah?” Cole says calmly, pulling Preston’s arms back farther. “Good luck with that.”
Preston tries to twist again, and this time, Cole drives his fist into Preston’s face. There’s a sickening crunch, and blood immediately starts pouring from Preston’s nose.
“I think you broke my nose, motherfucker!” Preston screams, his voice high and panicked now instead of threatening.
“Don’t care,” Cole says flatly. He produces a zip tie from his pocket and secures Preston’s wrists behind his back with practiced ease.
I’m frozen on the sidewalk, my whole body shaking, my arm throbbing where Preston grabbed me. I can’t move. I can’t think. I can only stand there and watch as Cole pulls out his phone with one hand, keeping Preston pinned with the other.
“Yeah, this is Cole Donovan with Apex Security. I need police at The Grind coffee shop on Maple Street. I have a subject in custody for assault and violation of a restraining order.” He rattles off the address, his voice calm and professional, like this is just another Tuesday for him.
Behind me, I hear the coffee shop door burst open. Layla calls out, voice sharp with panic. “Tessa! Oh my God?—”
But I can’t turn around. I’m still staring at Preston, at the blood running down his face, at the way he’s thrashing on the ground like a trapped animal.
“You bitch!” he screams at me, spitting blood. “You fucking bitch! You think this is over? You think some piece of paper is going to stop me? I’ll find you—I’ll always find you?—”
“Shut your mouth,” Cole says, pressing his knee harder into Preston’s spine. Preston yelps in pain.
