I slammed my hand against the button just as he reached the car. His palm hit the window hard enough to make me flinch, hard enough that for a split second I thought the glass might shatter.
"This isn't over, Lucy." His voice was muffled through the window, but I could still hear every word. My living nightmare was still there in front of me, his face pressed close to the car window, completely consumed by rage, as I heard his final shout. "You hear me? This isn't over!"
I started the engine. My hands were shaking on the wheel. I threw the car into reverse, not looking, not caring, just needing to move, to get away, to put distance between me and those eyes.
The tires squealed. I pulled out of the parking lot too fast, took the turn onto the street too sharp.Behind me, I could see him in the rearview mirror, standing in the empty lot, watching me go.
I drove. Didn't think about where I was going, just drove. Through the quiet streets, past the dark storefronts, toward the only place that felt safe anymore. Then I decided it was time to go home. I needed Cal.
I didn't realize I was shaking until I parked outside the apartment building. My whole body, trembling so hard my teeth were chattering, like I'd been out in the cold for hours instead of minutes.
I didn’t realize I was crying until my body moved automatically, my hands rising to my face, and I saw they were wet when I pulled them away. Tears I hadn't felt falling, streaming down my cheeks, dripping off my chin.
I stayed in the car for a long moment, unable to make a move. I couldn’t do anything except shake and cry and stare at the building where Cal was waiting, still unaware of what had just happened. His place was where safety waited, twelve feet and one flight of stairs away.
Finally, I found my courage. I locked the car, climbed the stairs, and stopped in front of his door.
Then, I knocked.
Cal answered the door in sweatpants and a T-shirt, clearly just out of the shower. His hair was still damp. He looked momentarily caught off guard—and then he took in my face, the way I was cradling my wrist against my chest. His expression shifted into something terrifyingly calm, the kind of calm that came from having imagined this moment before.
"He touched you."
Not a question. A statement. A verdict.
"I'm okay." My voice came out shaky. "He grabbed me, but I got away. I'm okay, I promise."
Cal didn't say anything. Just took my arm, gentle as anything, and turned it so he could see my wrist. The bruises were already starting—red and swollen now, but I knew what they'd look like by morning. Dark smudges in the shape of his fingers.
His hands were impossibly gentle in their care. His eyes were something else entirely, and the warmth they stirred in me came tangled with guilt.
"Come inside," He used his captain’s voice, calm and steady, the one that knew how to handle difficult situations.
I followed him to the couch and let him sit me down. I watched him disappear into the kitchen and return moments later with ice wrapped in a towel. I let him take care of me, let him press it against my wrist, his fingers warm where they held the compress in place. I watched his face, trying to read what was happening behind my tight, aching expression, behind the pain I hadn’t yet found words for.
"Tell me what happened."
So I told him everything that had happened, that I’d been alone in the parking lot when I saw Evan step out of the shadows, that he’d threatened me, theway he’d grabbed me and how I’d broken free and run. Cal listened without interrupting, his jaw tight, a muscle ticking in his cheek. I could see his expression hardening as I spoke, tension and fury building behind his eyes.
When I finished telling him, he said nothing. He just did what he had to do, pulled out his phone and called Sheriff Daniels.
I listened to him explain the situation, his voice flat and professional, captain-mode still engaged. Restraining order violation. Physical contact. Bruises forming. “Yes, she's safe. Yes, she's with me.” “No, we don't know where he went.”
After he hung up, he looked straight at me.
"Daniels is putting out a BOLO. If Evan's still in town, they'll find him. The restraining order violation means they can arrest him on sight."
"And if they don't find him?"
Cal's expression didn't change. "Then we figure out the next steps. But right now, you're safe. That's what matters."
He treated my fear like it mattered. Like I mattered. Like I was someone worth protecting.
I’d forgotten what that felt like. Forgotten what it felt like to be safe.
We sat on the couch, waiting for Daniels to call back with news. The ice had melted against my wrist, the water soaking into the towel until it was damp andheavy. I should have gotten up to replace it, but for that moment, I’d forgotten how to move.
Cal was close. Closer than he usually sat, his shoulder almost touching mine. I could feel his warmth, smell that familiar mix of soap and something underneath it, something I’d started to think of as simplyhim.
