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“Anything.”

“What?”

“No Instagram. No stories. No location tags. Nothing that tells anyone where you are.”

I sit up straighter. “Why?”

“Just do it.”

There it is. The wall that he keeps putting between us every time I get too close to something he doesn't want me to see.

“Roman.”

“I have to go.”

“Wait—”

The call ends.

I stare at my phone.

A few hours ago, I woke up handcuffed to this man. He let my dog sleep beside him in his bed. He chose to stay attached to me when he had the key.

And now he's shutting me out again.

I look at Bramble & Bean. The man is no longer sitting at the table.

My stomach tightens.

I start the car.

40

ROMAN

The second Callie's car turns the corner, something inside me unclenches.

I’m still tense, but she’s moving away from him, and that’s what matters.

Mercer steps out of Bramble & Bean thirty seconds later. I watch him from the reflection in the storefront window across the street. He doesn't look toward me. Doesn't look in the direction Callie went. He casually adjusts his jacket and starts walking, his pace unhurried.

He reaches the corner, checks traffic, then looks toward the street Callie just drove down.

Every muscle in my body locks.

Fuck.

Maybe it's nothing. Maybe he's checking traffic. Maybe he's looking at a building.

Maybe—

No. I don't lie to myself.

Mercer notices people. And he noticed her.

My phone buzzes.

I look down.