His unrelenting scrutiny feels hooked to every part of my body. Despite my long floral skirt with a slit that shows my long legs and white tank top that feels like it enhances my smaller breasts and curves, he has the kind of eyes that feel like they are stripping me bare, with the way his head tilts downward to sweep his gaze from my head to my toes. I’d say the heat pouring over me is from the sun, but that would be a lie. I may not be able to see his eyes, but he’s handsome in ways that blur everything around him like he was meant to be a focal point.
I fill the awkward silence, somehow adding to its discomfort. “That’s funny, mine looks identical. Same name and everything.”
His mouth almost lifts, but it disappears just as quickly. It’s hard to tell against his cynical expression. “How ironic.”
“I should go find my boat.” I step to move past him, jumping in shock when his large hand gently grasps my forearm to hold me still.
He lowers his head, and for some reason, I wish I could see his eyes instead of my disheveled appearance staring back at me. I’m so flushed that it's noticeable in the reflection, which means he undoubtedly knows my lies are painting my cheeks—a physical red flag.
“Curiosity can be a double-edged sword, darling. You should be careful and consider the consequences the next time you find yourself drawn somewhere you aren’t supposed to be.”
I swallow, my eyes flitting between his, wondering if they’re blue like the water surrounding us or if they're green, like the stage where new growth on a plant matures into the dark green color that is warm and inviting, unlike his presence.
But I’ll never find out.
He releases my arm, nodding toward the fence. “How did you get in here anyway?” I withhold my answer and quickly get the sense my silence vexes him when he grumbles, “And it's a lobster boat.”
I stroll toward the gate, walking backward as he watches me create the much-needed distance between us.
My hand touches my temple, giving him a salute. It will probably piss him off more since he’s already in a dickish mood. “Have a good day, Captain.”
Without another word, I turn around and exit out the gate the usual way since the other side is the only one with the keyless combination. I’m not sure why I like the idea of his head swimming with all the ways I could’ve possibly gotten in here. It’s not that hard.
The weight of his attention hangs over me like a thick fog. He’s so attentive and observant that it's nearly suffocating.
The fence clicks shut behind me, and I force myself to slow my steps the rest of the way toward the parking lot to appear like I’m unfrazzled instead of running away like I want to. I don’t know what it is about that man, but I feel like I should.
SIX | KATE
Reaching into my locker, I feel instant relief when I see the white envelope with my past two weeks’ pay. I grasp onto it, tucking it into my purse.
I may have never imagined myself working at an amusement park, but I’m grateful for this job. That Lachlan Park gives me the ability to remain hidden in a world where someone’s information is sickeningly accessible to anyone. That I can keep myself from creating those thin threads across cyberspace that could lead Xander to me.
When I asked my hiring manager if I could be paid in cash, they didn’t even blink. Getting the woman who owns my house to accept cash for my monthly rent without leaving any digital trail was a different story. I got those narrowed eyes that made me feel like I was going to crawl out of my skin and word vomit the shit show that is my life all over her lap when I was signing my contract.
I was desperate.
So, instead, I asked, “Do you have daughters?”
Sindy observed me skeptically and nodded. “I have two.”
My soft, anxious smile was accompanied by an exhale. “If they were in trouble and running from someone dangerous, wouldn’t you want them to find a safe place?”
That got her attention.
Perhaps she recognized the fear in my eyes or the shallow breaths that floated between us, revealing my anxiety over using any digital form of payment that would require a bank account. Sindy’s hand reached out to grasp mine out of instinct. My eyes started watering thinking of my mother, who I knew was worried sick about me.
My landlord gave in, and I nearly doubled over, crying in appreciation that I wouldn’t have to keep temporarily living in shitty motels that were as menacing and disturbing as the situation I had found myself in—running from an ex whose tenacity is as potent as his psychotic nature.
Sometimes I wonder if ending our relationship earlier would’ve saved my conscience, protected my body—or if ending it when the first signs of fear that poisoned my gut would’ve tempted the monster to emerge and play even before I recognized the red flags for what they were.
But it’s no use in wondering when this is my reality.
People always say to get out of a toxic relationship before it's too late. But sometimes, at the beginning, it's unrecognizable. Little moments that are a grain of sand, adding to the bag attached to your feet, meant to slowly drag you under until getting out seems impossible.
The scars of my three years with Xander run deeper than colorless, risen skin, and my fractured soul feels like it's been tossed into a wood chipper one too many times. Even if I was able to put the pieces back together, there are some slivers and shards I’m sure I’ll never get back.
Xander and I had started as strangers at a blood drive when I was attending nursing school in Oregon. Something aboutcatching the attention of an older man as a fresh twenty-year-old was confidence-boosting. He didn’t just pierce my skin with a needle when I was giving blood; he burrowed deep, hypnotizing me with a blindness that made me as obsessed with him as he was with me. It wasn’t until the comfort with each other started to settle that his true nature began to seep through ordinary moments.
