“Don’t be dumb.”
I gasp at his brashness.
“You’re vulnerable there. We can’t see back the farm lane, and it’s too far away for you to run for help.”
I know he’s right, and I hate Elias even more for this. I finally have a place that feels like me and he’s poisoning it. I’ve made the tiny cottage my home, the one thing I’ve been searching for since I arrived in LA, and now that I’m finding it, I’m not ready to leave.
“I’m going to call an officer to follow you home.”
“Davis,” I protest.
“We’re past the point of keeping this quiet, Wren, but I’ll make sure he takes an unmarked car. Better?”
I nod.
“He’ll do a sweep of your cottage and sit outside the house until you figure out your plan.”
“I hate this.”
“Me too. But I’m going to keep you safe. I promise, Wren.”
There’s a shift in his tone. Pain and torture wrap around each word, and I want to know what happened to him. He’s always been the serious one, but this is different. He’s haunted, and my problems are only adding fuel to the fire.
“Does Jett know about everything you’ve shared with me today?”
I nibble on my lip as a wave of guilt and nerves crash over me. He takes my actions as an answer, and I know what I need to do. “Actually, can you follow me to Jett’s?”
“I think that’s a good place to start.”
As we stand to leave, the community board near the exit captures my attention. A flyer hangs half-covered by a yoga class announcement. I slide the announcement out of the way to get a better glimpse at the flyer.
You’re not alone. Together, we can make changes for the better. Join us every Tuesday at 9:30 AM upstairs at the VFW. It’s OK not to be OK. There’s always hope. Let us help you move forward.
My chest tightens, but not in fear this time. It’s recognition that maybe it’s time to talk. To tell my truth and escape his grasp.
Davis watches me read over the paper.
“I think it’d do you some good. Margo, the group leader, does a fantastic job.”
“You’ve gone?”
He offers a tight-lipped nod, but doesn’t add more.
Davis pushes the door, holding it open for me as I follow him toward the parking lot. The two of us back out, and he follows me the few blocks to Jett’s house.
His truck is still in the driveway, which means I didn’t miss him. I go through a few breathing exercises before climbing out of my truck. Glancing at Davis’s SUV parked on the street, I walk up the sidewalk to Jett’s front porch. My feet drag as I feel like I’m being let out to slaughter, which is an overexaggeration. It’s been time I’ve told Jett the truth, especially when he witnessed my nightmare.
My knuckles rap against the door, and within seconds, it’s swinging open. Jett’s brow furrows before a sexy smile spreads across his face.
“Miss me already?”
I let out a nervous chuckle. “Something like that,” I answer, glancing over my shoulder again as I wave Davis off.
“Was that Davis?”
“Yeah.” I stare at my feet, but Jett’s fingers are quick to slide under my chin. He lifts my head until our gazes lock. Bright blue eyes search mine as if he’s trying to read every thought I’m having.
“What’s going on, Whiskey?”
