Brett and Hildy leave the bar, their drinks in hand. He wants to kill me, but he won’t do shit. Because he needs me to say less, not more. Brett can’t know she’s caught in our crossfire and could drown in our bad blood any second. He needs her to stay afraid. And, so do I. Fear will make her impressionable and compliant.
Or so he thinks.
It can also make her reckless and wild. I’m hoping for a good combination of all of the above. And I think I’ll get it because I know her so much better than he does. I know what makes her tick and I know all the sick dreams she has in the dark, late at night, that she’ll never tell anyone else.
I lean back in my chair and shoot him one last smarmy grin.
I’m taking her from you. And, in the end, she’ll thank me for it.
My girl and all of her dark impulses belong to me. And I’ll never let him take what’s mine ever again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Brett
One Year Ago
He’s following me again.
But we’re not in college and we’re not in Dr. Selter’s Popular Fiction class anymore. Now, we’re sitting in Conference Room B, listening to Dave detail upcoming internal inspections and Eric recall the excitement of a potential threat that turned out to be a shed hunter who got too close to the perimeter fence. And wherever I sit, Colson is sitting right next to me.
Except now I don’t mind.
I should mind, but I’ve gotten a taste of normalcy and it’s too much to ignore. There’s nothing that I want more than to go back and not be afraid. Maybe this is my new coping mechanism—believing things can be what they once were. Maybe this will also be my downfall—dying on a hill of avoidance and denial.
It’s always the same. No matter what time of day it is, Colson brings a Twix candy bar and right after he opens it, he hands half of it to me and eats the other. Sometimes, I take my pack of cinnamon gum out of my pocket and hold it out to him. He always takes one. I still don’t know exactly what to think about him, but his presence is oddly comforting. And this ritual we’ve developed is oddly comforting.
It’s like everything is back to…normal.
He stops at my door during his rounds, I tell him about bike trails, and he tells me about new music he finds.
Today is the same in Conference Room B. Colson slides one of the Twix bars in front of me and, out of habit, I reach for it and take a bite off the end. I glance out the window as I chew, making mental notes about my schedule and daydreaming about which playlist I’ll put on for my bike ride today. Except when I refocus and let my eyes wander back across the table, my jaw tenses and I stop mid-chew.
Alex is leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, staring directly at me from across the table. He has the smoothest skin I’ve ever seen, which allows me to see each and every miniscule twitch of his facial muscles while he silently judges me. My stomach drops as he glances between me and Colson, probably working it out in his head. Finally, the corner of his mouth curls into a smirk and he turns his attention back to Dave at the front of the room.
I wonder if Alex is thinking the same thing Colson’s friends thought back in college when he stopped sitting with them and chose to sit next to me instead. I wonder if Colson tells anyone anything about why he does the things he does. Probably not. But whatever Alex thinks, it’s obvious he’s incredibly entertained by it.
I take a deep breath and try to tamp down all the thoughts racing through my mind. When did I become so oblivious? This time last year, I would’ve noticed anyone who might be looking in my direction and immediately found out why. Hypervigilance was my middle name, even though it never resulted in anything more dramatic than scheduling a last-minute meeting. Now, I still feel hypervigilant, except it doesn’t seem to do a damn bit of good. I still feel like eyes are on me, whether I recognize them or not, and it feels like everyone can read my mind while I’m staggering around in the dark.
I avoid making eye contact with anyone else until the meeting is over and I can escape back to my office. But as I’m ascending the stairs, I hear footsteps behind me, slightly out of sync with my own. When I glance over my shoulder, I recognize Nate near the bottom of the staircase.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” I call back to him, slowing my pace while he catches up.
I used to see him every day, but now I only see him at meetings.
“I know,” he flashes me a smile, “you’ve been hiding out more.”
“A little bit, I guess…”
He’s not wrong. I was hiding for a while, until I decided Colson wasn’t an imminent threat. Before, I avoided the break room because I knew he would be there with Alex and Nate. But, now, I’m never there because Colson started posting up at my office during lunch.
“How are you?” Nate glances down at my hand, “Set a date yet?”
“Yeah, we just did. August 24th.”
“Long engagements are cool,” Nate nods, “my sister was engaged for two years and still barely got everything done in time.”
“Oh, um—” I bite my lip sheepishly, “I mean August 24th of this year.”
Nate’s eyes go wide with surprise, “In that case, never mind,” he grins.
“Why wait, right?” I turn the corner onto my hallway and Nate follows, “So, where do they have you now?”
“On the north side,” Nate motions ahead, “since they finished the renovations.”
“The day you got moved, I yelled hello into the hallway thinking it was you,” I’m finally able to laugh when I recall the memory, “but it was Colson, and he scared the hell out of me.”
“Don’t tell me that,” Nate groans, “now I feel bad. I should’ve warned you.”
I cast him a sideways glance, “You should feel bad.”
“Did you know Colson before he came here?” he asks.
It’s not a strange question. Wolfsson is the kind of place where everybody seems to know everybody else because they were recruited via word of mouth. It’s how Dallas and Colson ended up here...I think.
I give a nod, “I know him from college.”
“How well did you know him?”
