Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder.
Layla is beside me now, her arm around my shoulders. “Tessa, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”
I look down at my arm. Bruises are already forming—four distinct finger marks, dark and angry against my pale skin.
“I’m okay,” I say, but my voice sounds far away. Disconnected.
The police arrive within minutes—two squad cars, lights flashing. Officers jump out, and Cole calmly explains the situation while keeping Preston restrained.
One of the officers takes photos of my arm. Another reads Preston his rights while hauling him to his feet. Preston is still screaming, still threatening, blood smeared across his face and the front of his white shirt.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with!” he shouts as they force him toward the squad car. “My father owns half this city! I’ll have all your badges—I’ll sue every single one of you?—”
The officer pushing him into the car just shakes his head. “Sure, buddy. Whatever you say.”
The door slams shut, muffling Preston’s continued threats.
And then it’s quiet.
Cole approaches me, his jaw already starting to bruise where Preston’s elbow caught him. “You okay?” he asks, his voice gentle now.
I nod, but I’m still shaking. My whole body trembles with adrenaline I can’t burn off. “Thank you,” I manage. “Thank you for—if you hadn’t been there?—”
“That’s why I’m here,” he says simply. “That’s the job.”
But it’s more than a job. I can see it in his eyes—the genuine concern and the anger on my behalf.
“He was waiting,” I say, the realization hitting me. “He was waiting for the right moment. Watching. Planning.”
Cole nods grimly. “Looks like it. But he fucked up. Now he’s got assault charges on top of the restraining order violation. He’s not going to bother you for a while.”
I want to believe him. I want to feel relief.
But all I feel is sad.
I hate that Preston wasn’t leaving me alone like I thought. My heart hurts with the reality that I let myself hope, even for a second, that I could be free.
Layla squeezes my shoulders. “Come on. Let’s get you back inside. You’re shaking.”
I let her guide me back into the coffee shop, where Joyce and Bob are waiting with worried faces. Behind us, the police finish their report and drive away, taking Preston with them.
Cole stands in front of the coffee shop, his phone already out, no doubt calling Logan.
And I realize, as I sink into a chair and Joyce presses a glass of water into my trembling hands, that this isn’t over.
It might never be over.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
TESSA
Within minutes, Logan is at the coffee shop, pushing through the door like he’s ready to go to war. His eyes find me immediately, and the relief that floods his face is so intense it nearly breaks me all over again.
“Tessa,” he breathes. Crossing the space in three long strides, he pulls me into his arms.
The moment I’m safe—truly safe, wrapped in his solid warmth—the adrenaline drains from my body and the tears finally fall, hot and uncontrollable.
