Page 187

No labels.

No titles.

Nothing but a kid who grew up scared and alone and the man I’m trying like hell to become.

For her.

“What the fuck do I do now?” I ask him, looking up and meeting his gaze. He smirks.

“Go home, idiot. Your girl is waiting for you.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lennon

I can’t deny what I know to be true.

Streak showed me the rental contract. I saw with my own eyes Owen’s name on that paper, his signature down at the bottom. It’s a signature I would recognize anywhere. The way he always signs his name with a little curl in the “O”. So, I know he rented the car. I know that he was the one who tried to run Dalton and I off the road.

And yet, I can’t seem to wrap my mind around it.

Letting out a sigh, I flip the sponge in my hand over to the rough, scrubby side and begin working it across the kitchen counter. I’ve been cleaning for a couple of hours, ever since Dalton left with everyone else to drop Raya off, to keep my mind from spiraling but it’s not working anymore.

Why would Owen do this?

Why would he go to all this trouble?

And what the hell is he hoping to gain?

The muscles in my arms burn as I scrub at the stone surface, more and more questions rolling through my mind. I never would have thought Owen capable of all this. Sure, when I left him I saw something different, something darker in him that night. The look in his eyes was terrifying but still, I never would have imagined that he’d go this far.

I mean, what is the point?

We are done and there was no chance of me coming back so why show up at the bakery?

He claimed he just wanted to talk.

But was it something more?

Why stand outside my apartment, watching me?

What was his plan with that?

Then, he escalated.

He followed Dalton and I to the street fair and cornered me when Dalton had his back turned.

That time, he claimed he wanted to talk again.

But he was always trying to get me alone.

Why?

And now, he tried to run Dalton and I off the road.

It is only because of Dalton’s quick thinking and his skill on his bike that we managed to escape unscathed.

Physically, at least.