Page 38 of Hunted By Them

He lifted his shoulders with that relaxed, earnest charm.

“Saw you in line. Thought I’d surprise you.”

“You did.” My voice was ice. “That’s interesting, considering you don’t work or live near here, but you randomly found me at my favorite breakfast spot, outside my work. You just happened to be in the neighborhood?”

He frowned, like I’d already botched his script.

“Sage…I was worried sick when I saw the news…I mean…you could’ve died out there. And I wasn’t there for you. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Connor, you lost the right to worry about me when you fucked someone else, lied to my face, and then acted like I was the problem. Like your wandering dick is no big deal,” I snarled, and the girl in line behind us snickered.

I was beyond caring who heard anymore. A confrontation like this in public…the old Sage…not a chance. New Sage…didn’t give a shit.

Connor looked around. Obviously, he didn’t share my newfound, fuckless attitude.

“Why are you always so crass?”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone? I feel like I need to hire a skywriter so that you can read my words. No means no, Connor. Why is this so hard for you to understand?” I looked up, realizing that the food truck guy was back. “Sorry, how much is it?”

He laughed and held out my order. “This one is on the house. I think you’re going to need it.”

“Thanks.” I stepped away from the truck. “Order your breakfast, Connor. And for the last time. Leave. Me. Alone.”

He caught my arm, yanking me to a stop.

“No, Sage. Just hear me out. I made a mistake walking away from you. The worst one of my life. I love you. I always have. We can fix this if you’d just⁠—”

I pulled my arm so hard his eyes widened.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Sage—”

“Hey, buddy, she said to leave her alone. Don’t make me call the cops on you,” the food truck guy yelled as he leaned on the counter, staring at Connor.

“Stay out of this, or I’ll make sure you get horrible reviews,” Connor barked back.

“What did you just say to me?”

The man disappeared, then suddenly the end door slammed open. He stepped out with a large rolling pin in his hand.

“You’re fucking crazy,” Connor said, pointing.

“Connor, just go away. You need to leave me alone.” My voice rose, sharp enough that more heads turned on the sidewalk to watch the show. “If you don’t, then it will be me calling the cops.”

He flinched, hands falling to his sides. His face worked through a dozen emotions—hurt, shock, a flash of anger, but I didn’t wait to see which one stuck. Marching away with my head held high, I walked into work. My legs shook, but I kept moving through the lobby and into the elevator.

“Dammit. Damn him.”

By the time I stepped out onto my floor, my phone buzzed like a hive. Margaret’s name scrolled across the screen a dozen more times.

I didn’t answer a single one as I walked toward my cubicle. I was eating my breakfast before I did anything else.

But of course, Margaret wasn’t just waiting for me. The bitch was sitting in my chair.

“Jesus,” I swore, and stopped dead. “Margaret, what are you doing?”

That seemed to be the question of the morning.