“To the coffee shop around the corner, promise?” I ask before getting in.
“You have my word.” His hand is gentle as he taps my arm, guiding me inside.
He slides in next to me, Kaden behind the wheel. The drive only takes five minutes. I chose this place on purpose, visited this morning, checked the exits, the windows. It’s a habit I can’t shake, always planning my escape.
We sit in silence, the quiet smothering. Flynn keeps his distance, legs angled away, arms crossed. He won’t look at me. For some stupid reason, it hurts.
Jesus Christ.
Kaden pulls up. Night’s already settled in. It’s ten past eight, and the café will close in twenty minutes. We walk inside. I order tea; Kaden and Flynn ask for water. I pick a table near the hallway to the bathrooms.
“So, talk.” His voice is sharp, cold as steel, and a chill prickles over my skin. I take a breath.
“I’ve had a stalker since I was—” I pause, searching my memory. “Eighteen.”
Kaden rests his hands on the table. “Who?” he asks, while Flynn never takes his eyes off me.
“I don’t know. He just started texting one day. Sending gifts. Threats, whenever men got too close.” I shrug as the waitress sets down our drinks. I add sugar and milk to mine, but my hands shake too much to lift the cup.
“You’re safe here,” Flynn finally says. I nod, not believing it. Safe. Right. I don’t even know who these people really are. How could I possibly be safe?
“And the police?” Kaden asks.
I laugh, bitter. “They did the bare minimum. Took a few pictures of the gifts, some screenshots of the texts. That was it.”
Flynn shakes his head, jaw clenched. “Fucking incompetent bastards.”
I smile at him, sadness filling my heart. God, I’m going to miss him; he’s the first man who’s ever made me feel anything real, and now I have to leave again. Worse, the stalker will find me. He always does, and this will never end.
“Did he ever hurt you?” Flynn asks.
I shake my head. “As far as I know, he’s never gotten close. Just the messages. Letters.” I sigh, then let it out. “I think the fire was him.”
They need to know, because if the stalker blames Flynn, if he comes for him… I won’t survive that.
“What?” Flynn’s voice explodes, making the woman behind the counter jump.
“Flynn.” I warn him, but he’s past listening.
“You fucking knew it was him and didn’t say anything?” His fury radiates off him.
“I’m not sure, I just—” My voice breaks.
“You just what?” Flynn grabs my chin, forcing me to meet hiseyes.
“I wrote something on a piece of paper, glued it to the window for him to see it. Told him to fuck off. That night…” My voice cracks, and a tear slides down before I can stop it.
“The fire,” Kaden finishes, quiet but sure. I nod.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Flynn lets go, leans back, running a hand through his hair.
“We need to tell Declan.” He stands up abruptly and leaves. Kaden stays, watching me like he’s weighing every breath I take.
“Can I go to the bathroom?” I ask, and Kaden nods.
I take my bag and point inside of it. “Pads.” He smiles and nods.
It’s always a good excuse, and men don’t usually ask more about it.
