“I’ve seen this exact blade before. It’s sitting in my car. The one left on your porch stabbed into a pizza slice with the note.”
Her entire expression changed. She’d been fearful before, panicky and afraid, but now she looked nervous…and guilty.
Why would she be guilty? I didn’t want to believe the picture my distrustful mind was conjuring.
“So explain something to me, Hales. If this belongs to your mom…” I lifted the knife slightly. “How the fuck did your stalker get his hands on it?”
I knew before she said a word. Not because I had proof. Not because I’d caught her in the act, but because nothing added up anymore.
And I was done pretending it did.
Her lips parted slightly. “Maddox, I can explain.”
Before she could spew another lie, I made it clear what would happen if I didn’t get answers. “You can start with the truth, or I’m walking out of here.”
The flare of fear in her expression was real, confusing the hell out of me. “Don’t, please. He might still be here.”
I angled my head to the side. “Was he even here?” I knew I was being an asshole, but something was spurring me to push her.
She tugged on her sleeve, one foot crossing the other as she fidgeted. “I’m not lying. Not about someone being in my house. He was here. Wearing a mask. Chasing me. I swear to God, he was.”
“Fine. Let’s say someone did break in. What about the rest of it?” I prompted. “The notes. The threats. Was that him, too?”
Silence followed, and the pit in my stomach grew.
“How did one of these kitchen knives get outside in a pizza delivery box? Did they break in and steal it, because that mightbe a reasonable explanation? But that’s not what happened, is it, Hales?”
Her pouty lips turned down…lips I had no business wanting to kiss, especially now. “I can’t believe you’re blaming me,” she argued, but it was weak.
Why hadn’t I seen it before? Why hadn’t I imagined the possibility staring me in the face? Truthfully, even now, I was waiting for her to deny it. I was waiting for the outrage, the hell no, Mad, I had nothing to do with any of it.
But piece by piece, memory by memory, it started to come together. The notes. The roses. The threats. A cold realization settled in my chest, spreading outward like ice water through my veins. “How long?”
Her brows pulled together. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb. You’re not as good at it as you think.”
A shred of hesitation crossed her face.
It was all I needed.
I took a step closer, watching her carefully, cataloging every shift in her expression like evidence. “Start talking.”
Her throat worked. “I don’t know what your?—”
“Yeah, you do.” I cut her off sharply. “Because I’ve been going over it, and there’s only one way any of this makes sense.”
She leaned back slightly, like she needed space.
Funny. She’d never needed space before. Not when she wanted me close.
My eyes locked onto hers, searching for an explanation. “Who else am I to blame if not you? None of this adds up.”
“You think I did this?” she asked, sloppily attempting to put the doubt on me.
“Tell me you didn’t?” I waited as she chewed her swollen lip. The bleeding had stopped, but if she kept gnawing on the flesh, it would start again. “I’m right, aren’t I?” Each inhale fell short,my chest holding too tight to let it settle. It wasn’t anger—just the edge of it, waiting.
Her chin tipped, a speck of defiance gleaming in her heterochromia eyes. “Even if I denied it, you wouldn’t believe me.”
