other select names I knew were associated with him back then…
But it wasn’t.
Ecstatic that I didn’t recognize the name, I was overcome with excitement to send my book
to Jada Marquette at Revel and Woods Publishing. So ecstatic, in fact, that I briefly considered leaving work right then. But then I hesitated, staring at the email with Colson’s name at the top, my excitement quelling slightly. But before I could do anything else, an IM popped up from Colson.
COLSON: Did you get my email with Jada’s info?
I stared at his message, trying to read between the lines. I know there’s something he’s not saying, some ulterior motive. Why would he do this?
ME: Don’t think this means anything has changed. We had lunch once.
COLSON: Just say thank you. I told her it was good.
ME: You’ve never read it.
COLSON: She doesn’t know that. Am I wrong?
ME: No, you’re not. But I’m not going to owe you anything for giving me an email address.
COLSON: Just dedicate it to me when she publishes it.
I stared at the email for another five minutes, but didn’t delete it. I really should have, but I also really want someone to publish my book. I’ll keep Jada’s contact, and maybe even send her my book, but I definitely won’t tell Colson about it.
By the time I get to my bike ride after work, the endorphins are doing their job and I’ve moved my conversation with Dallas to the backburner. When I crest the hill leading to the parking lot, my legs are burning and fatigued with a satisfying pump. I pop off the curb and coast down the middle of the asphalt to the far side of the lot where my Tahoe is parked under the shade of a large oak. Moments later, I slow to a halt at my back bumper and just stare.
My driver’s side door is open.
It’s not hanging open, but it’s so slight that I don’t realize it until I’m only feet from the door. I know I locked it. I always lock my vehicle.
I spin around, my eyes darting around the parking lot. At 5:00 in the afternoon on a weekday, there are only a couple of other cars in the lot, a silver Jeep Cherokee and a white Honda Civic, and no one in sight except for a couple of women standing at the playground in the distance watching some children play. I turn back to my door sitting ajar, unsure of what to do.
Finally, I slide off my seat and kick the stand down. My legs feel like jelly, but I don’t know if it’s because of this or just because I had a good ride. I circle the SUV, peering through the windows and tugging each door open as I go. It’s empty. I spin around once more as I walk around the front bumper. Still, no one in sight. When I arrive at the driver’s side door, I reach for the handle and slowly pull it open.
At first sight, everything looks as I left it. I step up into the seat and lean over the console, my heart pounding. I grab my fleece jacket that’s draped over my leather tote bag on the floorboards. To my surprise, my laptop, wallet, and every other one of my belongings is still there. If my laptop was missing, I’d be spending a lot more time with Dallas while she initiated a remote self-destruction of the machine.
I drop my phone into one of the cupholders and lift the lid of the console. Nothing is disturbed. I open the glove box and everything is still there, too. But I can feel it. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I recognize the unsettling and icky sensation of knowing someone has been here who wasn’t supposed to be.
It’s almost creepier that they haven’t taken anything.
I shudder at the thought and climb back out of the Tahoe to load up my bike and get the hell out of here. Ironically, it probably takes me longer to leave because I keep looking around the parking lot, trying to spot anyone who might be lurking. Finally, I climb back in and slam the door. Muttering under my breath and irritated by the possibility that one of my favorite bike trails has been infiltrated by creeps, I latch my seatbelt and stomp on the brake before pressing the ignition.
As the engine roars to life, I see my phone light up in the cupholder with a text notification. As soon as I reach down to grab it, my heart skips a beat. I stare down in horror, so preoccupied with making sure nothing was gone that I didn’t notice it before.
In the cupholder next to my phone is a rectangular bottle with a purple cap.
It’s a brand-new bottle of Naked Mango Madness—with protein.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Evie
High School
He raises the gun and aims it at the ground, firing off three rounds at my feet.
I scream and stumble backward, scraping my shoulder on the gnarled bark of a locust tree. The adrenaline spins me around and I take off through the trees as fast as I can. There’s no path anymore, I’m just running wherever there aren’t trees blocking my escape and the moon is showing through the trees enough for me to see.
I need to get back to the park. If I can get back to the park, I can find a way home. But which way is the park? I never paid attention to how we got to this place in the middle of the woods. I didn’t think I had to.
Because he would always be there to show me the way out.
Now I’m cursing myself, wishing I’d been smarter. I always followed him because he knew where he was going. He knows these woods inside and out. He’s stayed out here for days at a time. I would never come out here by myself, only with him. And now I’m trying to run from him, in the dark, and I have no idea where I am or where I’m going.
These woods are deep—a vast ocean of trees dividing Canaan and Hellbranch. But I know there’s a road that cuts through the forest, and I’ve been down it many times. It’s where all this started weeks ago, at Grumpy’s where we all ran from the cops after the race. If I can’t find the park, maybe I can find that road.
Maybe while I’m at it, I can take a walk back in time and make a different choice. If I could, I would’ve listened and never gotten into his car.
Stop it. Focus and find a way out.
I’ve been running for a long time. The only reason I’m getting winded is because of the terrain. Otherwise, if this was level ground, I could keep running until I hit pavement. I wouldn’t stop. I can run for miles. But I have to slow down to see where I am. As if I’ll know…
I duck behind a massive oak to catch my breath and quell the gasps and sobs sputtering from my chest.
Calm down. Focus.
I try to listen, but the forest is so fucking loud at night. I never noticed until right now when I’m actually trying to hear whether he’s running behind me. The insects and tree frogs are screaming, peppered with snaps and scampers in the leaves. It doesn’t help that my heart is pounding in my ears. But even with all that, I don’t hear his heavy footsteps.
