Page 47 of I’ll Find You

The tension is thick between us, and for a moment, no one moves. It becomes awkward, and the more I try to release Alex’s hand, his hold becomes tighter. Lizah hovers uneasily at the door. This isn’t my fight to stand in the middle of. I release his hands before he can stop me, stepping aside. He looks at me then, and there’s hesitation. A question.

I offer him a small smile. “It’s okay,” I murmur, feeling braver than I am. My hand brushes his arm briefly. “You should go talk to her,” I encourage softly before stepping back just enough. His eyes widen, and his hand lifts, wanting to reach for me, but I shake my head. “Go,” I say, finally letting my attention drift to her. She rocks slightly on her feet, her hands twisting together, probably second-guessing why she came in the first place. But I know. She came here expecting nothing had changed between them. How long had this been going on?

“Hi,” Lizah says softly.

Alex blows out a breath forcefully. “Hey.”

“I didn’t know who else to come to,” she says, her voice rising in pitch.

“What’s going on?” Alex asks, his head tilting in confusion.

Lizah hesitates. “I think there’s someone following me.” Her voice drops as if whoever it is can hear her above a whisper.

I look over there, but there’s no one there. Alex is still beside me, his focus sharpening in an instant.

Lizah doesn’t stop there. Her eyes flick to his, lingering there this time. Besides fear moving through her, there’s something else: familiarity as she moves toward him, seeking his comfort. She thinks nothing has changed.

Alex doesn’t move toward her, though. He doesn’t close the distance. Instead, he asks, “What do you mean by following you?” His arms cross over his chest, someone attempting to guard the organ that beats underneath, and only for me.

“I didn’t see who it was,” she admits. “Not exactly.”

No one says anything as Alex attempts to understand her motive for coming here, and if it’s all coincidental or just a ploy to garner his attention, when it’s no longer there.

“It’s a car,” she continues. “Same one that has been outside my apartment building.” Her voice drops even lower. “I swear it followed me here. I don’t think it’s random.”

Alex’s fists tighten. “When did it start?”

Her eyes look to me, then away. “Last night.” She pauses, but decides to choose her words. “I came over to see if you were here yet, but no one was home, and I knew you’d be coming home for break. You always do.”

Alex doesn’t react to her words, at least not the way she hopes he would. “You should report it,” he finally says. Practical.

“To who?” she asks, a little too quickly for my liking.

“Police. Give them a description of the car and the times it happened. Give them every detail you can think of.” He leans back slightly. His eyes narrow just a fraction. “Anyone you can think of that might do this? Someone who might have a reason to be around your place?”

Lizah hesitates, but confesses. “My ex. But I don’t know. He’s never done anything like this before.”

“I think you shouldn’t ignore it,” he advises. “I would definitely report it.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, but she just stands there waiting, like she thinks she has unfinished business with him.

Then he closes the distance between us instead. His hands find mine again. “Lizah,” he says, his tone controlled, “this is Rose.” His words are simple, but the way he delivers them is anything but. The introduction is intentional. “My girlfriend.”

I offer her a polite, measured smile along with a little wave of my fingertips. “Hi.”

She looks briefly at our joined hands. “Hi,” she echoes coldly. Something in her expression changes as the earlier familiarity toward Alex dims. She seems more uncertain, but definitely more aware.

Alex doesn’t let go of my hand, and doesn’t step back, leaving no room for misinterpretation this time. And since the time she first walked in, the space between us feels clearly defined. A line drawn that won’t be crossed again.

Without anything else left to say, the door closes behind her with a soft click. Alex lets go of my hand, not completely, but enough so that he can step closer. His fingers slide over my wrist before settling at my waist, drawing me in, and closer to him. “Hey,” he murmurs, softer now. I look up at him, my breath catches slightly at how close he is. And how everything else fades when he looks at me like that. “You okay?” he asks.

I nod, but it’s not entirely true. It’s not because of her either. Not really. “It’s not like that,” I say softly. My fingers curl lightly, bunching up the fabric of his shirt. “It’s just…everything,” I admit.

His hand tightens around my waist, pulling me closer, flush with him. My arms wrap around his neck. “I know,” he says, his breath fanning my forehead, as he kisses me there.

I bury my face against his shirt, as I hesitate for a second, and then let it slip out before I overthink it. “She still looks at you…” I trail off, unsure of how to finish it before sounding like someone I don’t want to be. Jealous. Insecure. Insignificant. He doesn’t make me say it.

“I noticed,” he says as one hand leaves my waist, lifting my chin to look up at him. “You want me to lie?” he asks.