My car was a wreck of a vehicle, but she was my wreck, and I couldn't afford to get her fixed. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I walked around her, checking for dents, scratches, anything new. But other than the usual wear and tear, nothing looked off.
Still, my pulse kicked up a notch as I pulled the note free and unfolded it.
My eyes scanned the words, and everything inside me stopped.
I’M OUT. WE NEED TO TALK.
My blood turned to ice. Every part of my body froze, my chest tightening so hard it felt like I couldn’t breathe. The words blurred slightly as my fingers curled into the paper, my grip turning white-knuckle tight.
This could only mean one thing.
My father.
The world tilted, my ears started ringing, and suddenly the parking lot around me didn’t feel real anymore. The pavement, the cars, the clear morning sky—it all blurred into the background, insignificant compared to the cold terror spreading through my veins.
He’d found me.
He knew where Brooks lived.
He wanted something.
A sharp pain pierced my chest, like my ribs were caving in on themselves, the weight of every bad memory crashing back into me all at once.
"Fuck. Fuck." My breath hitched as I tossed the note onto the passenger seat, my hands clenching the steering wheel like it could anchor me. My heart was slamming against my ribs, the same way it had when I was a kid hiding behind the couch, listening to my parents scream at each other, hearing the shattering glass, the slamming doors, the way my father’s voice could flip from fake sweetness to pure fury in seconds.
I had escaped. Hadn’t I?
He was supposed to be in jail for another five years. He wasn’t supposed to find me. How the fuck did he know I was here, at Brooks’ place? Did those guys follow me?
I fucking knew better.
My vision blurred at the edges, my breath coming too fast, too sharp, and I clenched my jaw, fighting the rising panic. "Not now. Not here."
I closed my eyes, trying to force the fear back down, trying to control the surge of panic before it took over.
Then someone tapped on my window.
I jerked violently, my stomach twisting in fear, my body instinctively coiling to run.
For a split second, I was back in my old house, hearing the heavy slam of the door, knowing he was home, knowing he was in a mood, knowing I had nowhere to hide.
I turned my head too fast, my heart hammering so hard it physically hurt.
But it wasn’t my dad.
It was Brooks.
I exhaled shakily, barely able to control my expression as I rolled the window down. "Hey?"
Brooks’ brows pulled together, his sharp gaze immediately assessing me. "You okay?"
He scanned the interior of my car, his sharp gaze catching on the crumpled note on the floor. His body shifted, his expression darkening slightly, and I knew the second the words registered. He saw it.
“What’s wrong?” His voice was calm but firm, a quiet demand that sent my stomach into freefall. I froze, my brain scrambling, my body locking up so fast it hurt. Every instinct screamed at me to fix my face, smooth out my features, make it believable.
But my hands were still gripping the wheel, white-knuckle tight, my breath was coming too fast, and my chest—God, my chest was caving in on itself. He knew something was wrong. Of course, he did. Brooks knew me too well to believe the lie I was about to tell him. And yet, I was going to do it anyway.
Because I had no other choice.
