I click it and scroll up to the last messages.
Lottie
How’s your head? I left the painkillers on your nightstand.
Fine.
Lottie
Found out who did it? I heard Hugo say Etheridges were behind it.
Um—What?
She can’t mean me, right? Jack’s black eye flashes in front of my eyes. Could he have anything to do with this?No, Jack is former police. He wouldn’t do that. Mason’s next text reassures me.
Your brother rants. Ignore him.
Lottie
If you say so. I have something for you.
Lottie
Image deleted.
The fuck is wrong with you, Lottie?
Lottie
Come on, Mason. How long do I have to wait? We both know I’m the best fit for you.
Stop this fuckery or I’ll forward this photo to Beth and she can deal with you.
Lottie
Does that mean you’ll keep the photo? It would look good as your wallpaper.
You have blocked this contact
I read the messages from top to bottom, twice, my heart playing tricks on me. When I’m done, the only thing I can think of is whether he kept the photo? I know it’s not his wallpaper.
After skimming through his handful of photos, convinced he deleted it, I’m about to close the app when I notice an album.
Little dove
My breath hitches as I click on what’s now my nickname. A hundred photos fly open.
Some from my social media, others from Caden’s, even Dan’s, though everyone else’s face has been cropped out of the frame. Only me ineveryphoto.
The whole gallery is a shrine to his fixation.
Typical stalker.
It should concern me. Right?
Then why does it make my nerves pulse, my spine cold, my heart swell, and my thighs clench, all at the same time?
Okay, going through his phone was a bad idea.
