My first instinct is to take it upstairs to Sadie. It's her mail, after all. But something stops me, the memory of her face when she talks about Oregon, about the court case. The fear that darkens her eyes whenever her phone rings with an unknown number.
I look up at her apartment windows. The lights are on; she's getting ready for our weekend. Probably packing, maybe even feeling excited about getting away. I picture her face if I bring this up to her, how the light would fade from her eyes, how tension would reclaim her body.
I glance around the parking lot once more, then back at the envelope in my hands. This isn't some random piece of mail. Someone placed it here deliberately, someone who knows which car is Sadie's, someone who knows where she lives and works.
My jaw clenches. Whatever this is, it isn't good news. And I'm not letting it ruin our weekend before it even starts.
Before I can second-guess myself, I slide my finger under the metal clasp, loosening it. The envelope opens easily, and I take a deep breath before looking inside.
Inside the envelope is a single photograph. My hands go flat on the hood, fingers locking hard enough to ache as I stare at the image.
It’s Sadie, standing behind the counter at Pike's Perk, Poppy perched on her hip. It's an intimate moment, Sadie smiling down at her daughter, completely unaware she's being watched. The photo is clearly taken from outside, through the caféwindow, but with a powerful zoom lens that captures every detail of their faces.
Across the bottom of the photo, written in bold red marker: "I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE."
"Fuck," I whisper, my jaw locking so hard my teeth ache. My hands shake as I turn the photo over.
Nothing on the back, no note, no signature, no demands. Just the implied threat in those five words.
Elliot. It has to be. The man Sadie's been running from, the reason for the court case, for her constant vigilance. This is his way of letting her know he's found her, that he can get close to her and Poppy whenever he wants.
I scan the parking lot again, my alertness at a ten.
Is he here now? Watching us? Watching me hold evidence of his stalking?
The thought makes my skin prickle but also turns my fear into something sharp and dangerous. Let him try to get near her. Let him fucking try.
I slide the photo back into the envelope, my mind racing. What do I do now? The obvious answer is to go upstairs, show Sadie, call the police. Document the harassment for her custody case.
But I picture her face when she sees this, the terror that will replace the rare happiness I've glimpsed in her lately. The way she'll shut down, retreat into protective mode, cancel our weekend. She'll be looking over her shoulder every second, jumping at shadows, convinced Elliot is about to appear and snatch Poppy away.
Just when she was starting to relax. Just when she was allowing herself to trust me, to hope for something better.
I glance up at her apartment again, then back at the envelope. My first instinct is to protect her by telling her everything, but what if the real protection she needs right nowis space to breathe? Twenty-four hours away from this place, where she can feel normal before facing the legal battle ahead?
I tuck the envelope inside my jacket, decision made. I won't show her. Not tonight, not tomorrow. I'll let her have this weekend without fear. When we return, I'll tell her everything, help her file a police report, talk to her lawyer. But right now, what she needs most is a break from the constant terror.
As I climb the stairs to her apartment, guilt gnaws at me. Am I doing the right thing, keeping this from her? Or am I just another man making decisions about her life without her consent?
No. This is different. I'm not hiding it forever, just delaying the inevitable crash back to reality. Giving her one night of peace before the storm hits again.
I knock on her door, pushing down my anger, my fear, my racing thoughts. When she opens it, smiling up at me with those fucking lips, all I can think about is her.
"Hey," she says, stepping back to let me in. "You're early."
"Couldn't wait to see you," I reply, forcing a lightness into my voice that I don't feel. The envelope seems to burn against my chest where it's hidden inside my jacket.
She laughs, a soft sound that makes me even more certain of my decision. "Eager, are we?"
"Very." I pull her into my arms, holding her perhaps a little too tightly. Over her shoulder, I see her packed overnight bag by the door, ready for our escape. "You all set?"
"Almost." She pulls back, studying my face. "Everything okay? You seem tense."
I smooth my expression, pushing down the rage and fear simmering beneath the surface. "Just excited for our getaway. Been looking forward to it all week."
She accepts this, turning to grab her jacket from the hook by the door. "Rowan's going to pick up Poppy from daycare. I've written down all her routines, medications, favorite foods…"
As she chatters about arrangements for Poppy, I make a mental note to text Trent. I need someone watching the café while we're gone, someone who can keep an eye out for suspicious activity, unfamiliar faces. Someone who can alert me if Elliot shows up.
