“Actually, I do.” I scoot forward. “How fast can we get information on someone if we only have a partial view of their face to work with?”
CHAPTER26
DELILAH
I’ve hadthe strangest feeling in the pit of my stomach all day. It’s the same one I used to get back home when I thoughthewas watching, which is worrisome since I haven’t felt that way at all since moving here. The entire drive from my place to Marissa’s smoothie shop, I felt like I was being followed. As I walk from her shop over to Tackle, I feel like I’m being watched. My stomach coils and I look over my shoulder twice before sprinting to the front door. As I unlock it, I look over my shoulder again, and when I finally step in, I shut and lock it right away. Coming here probably isn’t the wisest decision. If he’s in here, or if any unhinged person with the intent to kill is, I pretty much signed my fate by locking the door.
A cold shiver runs through me as I jog down the hall and head toward my office. I take a deep breath and remind myself that he can’t find me. He can’t but the damage is done. My gut is never wrong and right now it’s telling me someone’s following me.He won’t know to look here. I tell myself this over and over while mulling over all of the things I’ve done to ensure I’m never found. The apartment, the name change, and picking a city most people wouldn’t think to look.
The only people I speak to from back home are Prescott and Marissa. The rest of Fairview thinks I moved across the country. No one really cares. My father texted me the night Lach was attacked and asked if I was okay, which I absolutely wasn’t, but I said yes anyway and that was it. The only defense he could have is that I changed my number.
“I thought you were taking the week off,” Wade says.
I shriek loudly and jump a foot off the ground, shaking as I pivot to him. “Jesus Christ, Wade.”
“Did you not hear the doors close when I walked in?” His eyes widen. “Or my loud singing?”
“No.” I take another breath to calm down. “And yes, I’m taking the week off.”
“So, you’re here because. . .?”
“I dropped by to get my computer.” I continue the walk to my office.
We all have private offices, which is pretty cool and makes Wade “feel like a real adult.” I guess paying bills and showing up to work on time isn’t enough proof for him. He normally plays for the USMNT but took this year off to recover from a knee injury, and during that time, he’s been working here during that time. He’d already been training here during the off-season, so it felt like a natural progression. He’ll get back to professional soccer next season, though. I grab the bag I left next to my desk and turn to the door, where Wade is standing, leaning against the frame. He doesn’t move the way he’s supposed to when I’m standing right in front of him.
I already played this out in my head. I’m not an idiot. I know Wade likes me. I also know there’s nothing I can do to make myself like him back. It’s annoying since there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him. He’s nice, has a great personality, and is very persistent. And with brown hair that he keeps cropped, dark blue eyes, and that freaking body, he’s definitely got the looks. Our coworkers are always trying to get us together, which is annoying. One time, we got locked in the freaking closet together by someone, and it felt like 7 Minutes in Hell. I’m pretty sure everyone here has a wager on it, since “there’s no way I won’t fall for him.” I wish they were right. Even Marissa is kind of rooting for it to happen. She says I need to stop comparing every man I meet to Lachlan, which is as true as it is impossible. He was the only one who was able to pull me out of the dark and give me light. And even though I no longer live in the darkness, everything around me is still dim. Besides, it’s not like I meet a ton of men. I only know the ones I work with, and I’m not interested in any of them.
“Are you going to move or do I need to manhandle you?” I ask, looking up at Wade.
“Manhandle me?” He raises an eyebrow. “Sounds tempting.”
I roll my eyes and slap his hard stomach. “Move.”
“Fine,” he huffs. He moves and follows me through the building and out the door until we’re in the parking lot.
I stop walking and turn to him. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I was dropping off some papers.”
“Oh.” I look at the cars in the lot. There are only three and his is one of them. “I walked here.”
“From Marissa’s?” he asks.
“Yep.” I look down the block, where her shop is, and head that way. “Talk to you later.”
He starts walking next to me.
“Isn’t your car parked over there?”
“Yep.” He shoots me the lopsided smile that all the women go crazy over.
“Soooo. . .?” I signal between us and the sidewalk ahead, but I don’t stop walking.
“Will you be at Medley’s tonight?” he asks.
“Again?”
“What, you can’t hang out two weekends in a row?”
