“He sits in his truck and takes photos of you while you eat here, or while you walk around. I’ve seen it with my own two eyes,” he explains.
There is no way. I’m actually genuinely shocked at the length Bennett is willing to go to just to keep me from Rowan. Claiming he’s a stalker? That he’s taking candid photos of me doing day-to-day, mundane tasks? That’s some dark romance book club bullshit right there.
“This is so fucked up, you know that? Spreading rumors like that can ruin his life, Bennett.” I can hear the anger in my voice, my nice-guy facade cracking away.
“I’m not lying,” he insists. “Think about it. What do you actually know about this guy that’s more than surface level? Have you ever felt he was being weird or hiding something? I’ve known him almost my entire life. I think I might know him a bit better than you think you do.”
“That’s…”
“Speaking of—how did you know where the office was? You never come into town, let alone to the newspaper. I don’t think I ever told you…”
Could it be…? No. Rowan already explained how he knew where the post was—he used Google Maps.
But Bennettisright. WhatdoI know about Rowan, aside from the brief history lesson he gave me over text last week? I mean, the man won’t even let me inside his home.
And I do have this nagging feeling—the impression that he’s hiding something. I figured it was something emotional or embarrassing, not something likethis.
Maybe we’re both wrong. Maybe Rowan isn’t a stalker or an emotional mess, and I just need to demand answers from him.
But either way, I have a grave feeling I won’t get them without forcing my way inside. Inside his head, his home, his heart.
“Okay, Bennett," I say. "Thanks for the heads up, I’ll figure this out. See you later.”
Bennett says nothing else, only offering me a small nod and a gentle smile as I turn and exit the diner.
Okay—I know what I’ll do. I’ll stop by the office and give John his breakfast and a brief explanation, and then I’ll head to Rowan’s house and demand answers.
I deserve to know, right? I mean, I feel as if we’ve progressed enough in our quote-unquote relationship that I should be owed the truth, even if it’s not something as insane as stalking.
And there’s no way he’s stalking me, right? Right. It’ll all make sense. I just need to talk to him.
So why do I feel so anxious? Why do I feel as if everything is about to fall apart?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Rowan
The bird reserve in South Carolina is relentless. I’ve spent the past two hours drafting a singular email informing them that I will not be traveling to the East Coast next month.
It’s my fault, I guess—I shouldn’t have entertained the idea in the first place. I should have ignored their initial communication, but I have a weakness for reserves and the work they do.
The only difference between now and the ones I’ve worked for before is that these days I have something I refuse to leave behind. The thought of abandoning Elijah, even for a few short weeks, makes me nauseous.
Elijah Oliver Camry.
Just thinking of his name gives me chills. Being able to sit in the comfort of my home and relive all of the various momentsI’ve spent with him is a gift I never intend on returning. It’s even better than the frequent dreams I have of Benjamin.
Like the other night when I watched him bathe in the sun as he laid out on the grass, or a few days before, when I spent a good portion of my afternoon recalling how soft he felt beneath my fingertips as I fucked him senseless in some random hotel room.
How am I meant to shove all of this aside and pack my bags? I just can’t. Plus, I’m still racking my brain for ways to let Elijah in on the past we share. I’m trying to sort out all the different avenues I can take to convince him that we’re soulmates.
It will be a difficult feat when he does not have the memories I do. What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if he runs?
I sigh, leaning back in my chair as I push the email to the side. I can respond to them another time.
My brain feels fried with all of the different possibilities swimming around me, all of them overshadowed by Bennett’s petty threat. Why can’t he just accept that Elijah chose me? What a coward.
Fuck, I kind of want to take a nap, and it’s not even lunch yet. When was the last time Elijah messaged me back? Earlier this morning when he woke up? What is he doing now? Maybe instead of napping, I should go into town and see what he’s up to.
