Avery shook it off and stepped outside.
The morning sun was bright, almost too bright after the dim interior of Sweet Treats. She blinked against it, locking the door behind her. The street was quiet, just a few cars, a dog barking somewhere down the block, the faint hum of cicadas warming up for the day.
Normal.
She took a step toward her car.
Then stopped.
A figure stood across the street, leaning against a telephone pole. Hood up. Hands in pockets. Head angled just enough that she couldn’t see his face.
He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t on his phone. Wasn’t doing anything except… standing there.
Watching?
Her pulse kicked up, a quick, startled flutter. She blinked hard, trying to clear the sleep and exhaustion from her eyes.
A delivery truck rumbled past, blocking her view for half a second.
When it cleared, the man was gone.
Avery exhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax. “You’re tired,” she muttered to herself. “You’re seeing things.”
Still, she couldn’t shake the prickle at the back of her neck as she walked to her car. She unlocked the door, slid inside, and shut it a little too quickly.
The engine turned over with a reluctant groan.
Avery gripped the steering wheel, trying to steady her breathing.
It was nothing. Just someone passing by. Just nerves. Just exhaustion.
She repeated it until her heartbeat slowed.
Then she pulled out of the parking space and headed toward the grocery store.
The short drive blurred past in a mix of nerves, her mind still stuck in the doorway of Sweet Treats. By the time she turned into the grocery store lot, her pulse had finally settled—barely.
Avery reached for her purse in the passenger seat, and her phone buzzed in the cup holder.
She frowned.
The number on the screen wasn’t saved. Wasn’t familiar. Wasn’t anything she recognized.
Her stomach tightened anyway.
Another buzz.
Unknown Number:Avery, we need to talk.
A second message appeared almost instantly.
Unknown Number:Blocking me won’t fix anything.
Her pulse spiked, sharp and unwelcome.
Ryan.
Of course he’d find another way to reach her. He always did. He never let go — not until she was small enough to fit back into the version of her he wanted.
