I’m holding Lark’s phone, keeping Nina updated and calm, though her voice still shakes every time she speaks to me.
“We’re almost there,” I say.
“Lark knows where to go,” she answers.
The sun is low in the sky, but I clearly make out the lone car parked across from the restaurant. It’s a beat up matte black Camaro with tinted windows, but I don’t need to squint to make out Kaleb’s shape inside it because he’s not inside.
He’s standing beside it, leaning against the driver’s side door, arms crossed over his chest. And he’s glaring at the restaurant as though his gaze could laser a hole through the glass doors.
“That knucklefuck,” I mutter.
Lark snorts and spares me an amused side glance before he banks a hard right into the empty parking lot. He might even spray gravel as he executes a quick U-turn so we’re pointing toward the exit—and the ex.
“Stay here,” Lark orders, throwing the Jeep into park but keeping the engine idling.
But Tyler slides out his door and is only a couple of paces behind Lark as they approach the restaurant’s rear exit. The door opens, and a wide-eyed, tear-streaked Nina stands there, looking petrified.
I glance back at the street. Kaleb’s not leaning against his ride anymore. He’s bolt upright, fists clenched at his sides, the threat of arrest probably the only thing keeping him from charging us.
That, and maybe the two big guys standing sentry outside the restaurant.
But Nina hasn’t moved. A woman approaches behind her, her hair in a kerchief, and I realize this is Nina’s boss, Aggie. She says something to Nina, who doesn’t respond.
Then I watch Tyler stretch out a hand, offering it to Nina. She stares at it for a second and then clutches it like a lifeline. Tyler leads her back toward the Jeep.
I look back at Kaleb.
“Shit!”
He’s moving—stalking toward us.
“Let’s go,” I call.
Tyler opens the door and helps Nina in, but Lark hasn’t moved. He’s shielding Aggie from view while the woman locks up the restaurant.
Kaleb stands in the middle of Garfield Street. That’s definitely not a hundred feet away.
“Lark?”
Lark glares over his shoulder and clocks Kaleb’s approach. He isn’t running. He isn’t charging. His predatory prowl may be more unnerving than if he did charge us like a warlord.
“Climb into the driver’s seat, Stella,” Lark calls.
“But—”
“Do it. Get the hell out of here if you need to.”
“No way!” I shriek, but I’m moving, straddling the center console and slipping behind the steering wheel as Tyler climbs in behind Nina and shuts the door.
Aggie yanks her keys from the last bolt and then she’s jogging to her car just as Kaleb sets his foot onto the restaurant’s driveway.
“This guy is nuts,” I mutter.
I flick my gaze to the rearview and see Nina doubled over, shaking. She’s completely terrified. Tyler’s bent over her, one hand on her back, the other clutching one of her hands, but his eyes are locked on Kaleb.
If that look doesn’t say murder, my middle name isn’t Jane.
“Fuck.” I lay on the horn, and the sound startles everyone. Including Kaleb. But only for a second.
“NINA!” he roars as soon as the blast cuts out. Nina moans in sheer terror, but I know by the way he’s peering blindly through the windshield, maybe thirty feet away, she’s hidden from view.
I hear Aggie’s engine turn over and then footfalls on gravel. I don’t take my eyes off Kaleb. I pictured him ugly. Acne scars and greasy hair. But he’s not ugly. He’s conventionally handsome, dammit. Square-jaw. Hawkish nose. Trimmed goatee.
But his scowl is ugly. And there’s nothing attractive about that look in his eyes. Especially now that he angles it at me.
Then his gaze jumps to Lark who’s stalking to the passenger side door. Kaleb’s glare blazes, and I know. I just know he’s about to launch himself at Lark before he can make it into the Jeep.
I hit the gas and the engine revs angrily. Kaleb freezes.
“Get in the fucking car!” I yell.
Lark wrenches the door open, but instead of getting in, he sets his sights on Kaleb.
“You stay the fuck away from her.”
Kaleb holds his gaze, a vicious sneer on his face. “I’m comin’ for you, Nina.” He’s not shouting this time. He’s close enough for us all to hear him. He raises his hand like a toy pistol and moves it back and forth. “Comin’ for all of you.”
“Get. In. The. Car,” I growl, wanting to reach over and yank Lark in by his collar.
It feels like an eternity, but he finally, finally, climbs in and shuts the door.
I throw the Jeep into drive.
“Wait,” he says, settling a hand over mine on the gearshift. “I told Aggie we’d let her leave first.”
“Right.” I nod, breathing deep.
Aggie’s already reversing out of her spot.
As she blows past us, Kaleb trains his finger pistol on her and mimes pulling his trigger right when his imaginary bullet would meet the back of her head.
“Fuck this shit,” Lark curses. He whips out his phone and snaps three pictures in the time it would take me to type in my stupid passcode. “Go.”
I don’t hesitate. I’ve never peeled out before, but I peel the fuck out, fishtailing, spraying gravel, and watching Kaleb involuntarily high-step to get of my way.
I don’t look in the rearview because I don’t want to own the image of him aiming at the back of my head.
Accelerating into the turn onto Garfield, the Jeep rocks like we’re off-roading, and maybe I left skid marks on the asphalt. But my heart is in my nose. And my stomach is in my throat.
“Jesus Christ… Jesus Christ,” I mutter, gripping the steering wheel. Only now do my hands begin to shake. I stop at the light on Johnston Street.
“Run it,” Lark says, and I don’t even question. No one’s coming, and I hang a left, going in the opposite direction of Nanna’s house.
We hit the railroad tracks so fast, my butt comes off the driver’s seat. Lark is gripping the handle over his door, but he says nothing about my crazy speed.
When we reach the light at Evangeline Thruway, he says. “Take a right.”
I do, glad someone else is doing the thinking because I’m about to lose it.
I make the turn, checking behind us as I do. There’s still no one. If Kaleb is attempting to follow, he’ll have a hard time once we’re on the thruway. I head south, wanting desperately to be home with Maisy, but also wanting to put labyrinthine miles between us and that psychopath.
“Nina, you okay?” Lark asks.
I glance back. She’s sitting up, wedged into the corner. Tyler, I’m proud to say, is giving her space, but their hands are still clasped tight on the seat between them.
She’s pressed her face against the window, but it’s clear that tears streak down her cheeks. Her shoulders shake, but her cries are silent.
Her only response is a shuddering inhale.
My limbs still shake with vanishing adrenaline, but hearing her distress has the effect of focusing my thoughts. I swallow.
“You’re okay, Nina,” I say in as calm a voice as I can manage. Motherhood must have given me great practice, because I sound a lot more certain than I feel.
But she doesn’t turn to look at me. She just sniffles and sobs. I brake for the light at Taft Street.
And then, “He’s g-going to kill me.”
Tyler makes a sound that could be a smothered roar or it could be a foreign oath, but then I hear him inhale through his nose.
“No… He...sh...fu...ckin… n...ot..”
My eyes go wide. Even with the emotion in his voice, I understand him perfectly, but I’m his sister. I glance back to see Nina turn her wet face toward him.
“W-What?” she asks, looking dumbfounded.
Again,
Tyler draws in another deep inhale. I bite down on the impulse to speak for him. “No...He...izzz,” he manages the hard Z without turning it into a “sh” sound. My chest swells. “FFFu...cking… not.”
He nails the last word. No drag between the vowel sound and closing consonant. I want to cheer.
Now is not the moment for cheering. But I want to cheer.
Nina blinks and wipes her nose, never taking her eyes off Tyler.
“Light’s green,” Lark whispers.
I snap my eyes to the road and hit the gas.
At home, all of us gravitate to the big living room behind Nanna’s sitting room. Every one of us is raw to some degree, and nobody wants to be alone.
I know I don’t.
Pen makes the inspired decision to pop a giant bowl of popcorn, slice up apples and pears, and open a fresh bottle of Blanc du Bois. Livy does her part by sharing a round of gouda and a box of Triscuits.
When we first got home, I didn’t think I’d have the stomach for anything, but the buttery smell of popcorn is familiar and comforting, and as soon as Pen and Livy put their little spread on Nanna’s glass and brass coffee table, I help myself.
So does everyone else. Except Nina.
She’s sitting in the corner of Nanna’s old camel back sofa, her feet tucked up and her chin on her knees. Tyler refuses to leave her side or let anyone else get near her.
And that seems to be okay with Nina.
Livy initially suggested that she call the police and turn Lark’s pictures over to them, but Nina started crying again so hard I recommended we table that at least until morning.
But Livy’s right. The authorities need to know that Kaleb already violated the temporary protective order. If nothing else, it’ll mean that when they have their court date in a few weeks for Nina’s petition for a permanent restraining order, it’ll likely be granted.
Still, I want that asshole thrown in jail.
Pen uncorks the wine and pours a full glass for Nina. She offers it, and when Nina just stares—still too rattled to respond—Pen says, “You’re safe, child. You just need to take the edge off now.”
With shaking hands, Nina clasps the wine stem and brings the glass to her lips. At first she takes a tiny sip, then pulls it away, blinking twice at the wine’s sweetness, and then she takes a healthy swallow.
“Wassail,” Pen says, smiling.
“Drinc hael,” I reply because Pen has taught me well. From his lone chair on one side of the sofa, Lark flashes a confused smile.
Blushing, I take the bottle from Pen and fill the other glasses. When I try to offer Livy one, she holds up her hand. “I’m underage.”
That never stopped me, but Livy is on a much different path than I was at nineteen. I nod my admiration and offer the glass to Lark. When he takes it, still smiling wide, our fingers brush, and I feel electricity dance all the way to my toes.
Tingling, I pour glasses for me and Pen. I don’t offer Tyler any. He hasn’t had a drop since the accident when his doctors warned against the effects of alcohol on his recovery. I don’t think he misses it, and I’m grateful for that.
Pen grabs one of her boho cushions from her pile in the corner and sets it on the floor in front of Livy’s chair, next to the young woman’s feet, even though there’s room on the gold, button-riveted loveseat with me and Maisy.
As soon as I sit back down, Maisy scrambles into my lap, spilling popcorn as she does. “Since we’re all here, already eating popcorn, can we watch Inside Out?”
I bite my lip. “Oh, I don’t know, honey, it’s been—”
“I’ve never seen it,” Livy says loudly.
I glance at her. She’s looking at Nina, who’s watching me with a hopeful expression. I check everyone else. Lark nods.
Pen chimes in. “I think Inside Out would be perfect.”
Wine, popcorn, and a Disney movie. Maybe that’s the home remedy for post-traumatic stress.
Pen hops up, starts the movie, and turns off a few—but not all—of the lights, so the room softens to a golden glow and the TV takes center stage.
I settle back against the cushions as the opening scene of Baby Riley and her Joy first plays out. I look around the room, and I can almost see everyone relax. It’s strange, but the comfort I’ve always felt in Nanna’s house is here, holding all of us.
I shift my gaze to Nina. She takes another sip of wine and tips her knees to the side, leaning into the back of the sofa.
Tyler’s arm rests along its back.
Wait.
Is that his thumb stroking the top of her shoulder?
Holy shit.
My belly goes warm at the sight, even as my heart flutters with nerves for him. For them.
A glance to my right shows me that Pen is leaning against Livy’s legs. Judging by the secret smile on her lips, Livy doesn’t seem to mind.
And then I look over at Lark. He isn’t watching the movie. His eyes are on me.
My most delicate muscles clench.
He lifts his chin, gesturing to the empty spot beside me on the loveseat, a question in his eyes.
I nod.
Silently, Lark rises from his chair. His long, powerful legs close the distance in two strides. When he sits beside me, the cushions dip with his weight, pulling me closer to him. Our hips aren’t touching but it’s close.
Casually, Lark leans forward and helps himself to a handful of popcorn. When he leans back, he whispers, “You were incredible today.”
I turn to look him full in the eye. “You’ve got to be joking,” I whisper back.
He tosses a piece of popcorn in his mouth and chomps it. “Nope.”
I glance down at Maisy who’s using my thigh as a pillow. She’s completely enthralled as Anger blows his top at the dinner table, even though she’s seen the movie twelve hundred times. When I turn back to Lark, I keep my voice low.
“I completely freaked out.”
He shakes his head. “You kept your cool. And you stood up to that human garbage heap.” Is that pride glinting in Lark’s eyes? “Did you see his face when you revved the gas?”
I blink. “No… Not really.” In all honesty, I was too worried about Kaleb hurting Lark. “But anyone would have stood up to him.”
His chuckle is low. “Not anybody.” Wordlessly, his eyes cut to Nina. At this, I remember her cowering in the backseat.
I glower at Lark. “Not fair. She’s traumatized.”
Eyes wide, he subtly raises a palm to show me he means no offense. “I get it. And I’m not saying she’s not tough. It takes guts to leave,” he says, an earnest look crimping his brow. “But you had my back, and you got us out of there. Just sayin’, it was awesome.”
The corner of his mouth curves up in a way that makes it impossible to argue with him.
I wrestle my grin, pretending irritation as I gesture to the movie and Riley’s first-day-of-school scene. “You’re missing the best part.”
Lark doesn’t look away, holding my gaze unblinking. “I don’t think so.”
Chapter Sixteen
STELLA
Two days later, on Sunday, we manage to convince Nina to turn in the photos. The four of us, Nina, Tyler, Lark, and me, go to the station together, and the police don’t hesitate to issue a warrant for Kaleb’s arrest.
Unfortunately, when the officer assigned to the case calls Nina Monday night, it’s with news that Kaleb Doucet was not at home or at work. His employer claims to know nothing. He didn’t show up for his shift that morning and his known associates aren’t talking.
Shit.
So, am I sleeping Monday night? No.
I try. I really do. But Nina was convinced and pretty convincing that Kaleb hasn’t skipped town. According to her, he has nowhere to go. He’s just lying low.
Maybe because he knows he’s in deep shit. Maybe because he wants to stir shit.
Either way, it’s shitty.
I lie in bed, wide awake, reminding myself that Kaleb doesn’t know where Nina lives
and he doesn’t know any of us.
I also can’t stop thinking about Nina. She’s worried about her boss, and she’s worried about all of us.
Her boss Aggie has also petitioned for a protective order against Kaleb because of his threats and repeated trespassing at the restaurant. Not that it’ll do her much good since he’s not around to be served, but Livy says a long paper trail against Kaleb will make a judge take notice. Still, Nina thinks she needs to look for another job to take the pressure off Aggie and the restaurant.
It’s probably not a bad idea, but Nina has worked there for two years. She likes her boss, her co-workers, and her regulars, and I know it would hurt to walk away.
I sigh and flip on to my back.
I love Nanna’s house. I love living in Nanna’s house. But it’s old, and it settles and creaks all the time. Which is very inconvenient on a sleepless night when one is worried about an at-large psycho-stalker.
Especially since I’m pretty sure Maisy and I are the only ones on the ground floor tonight. When I was checking the locks on the front door, I witnessed Tyler following Nina upstairs to her room. And I haven’t heard him come down yet.
Which, I’ll admit, is another worry that just might be interfering with my sleep. Because, given the chance, Kaleb wouldn’t hesitate to take a swing at my brother—or worse. And I get the feeling that if it came to it, Tyler wouldn’t be worried about protecting his head in a moment like that.
Hell, I don’t think he’s worried about protecting his heart, either.
I don’t know which threat stresses me out more. I know Nina feels safe with Tyler, and they’re obviously getting closer. But where can this possibly go? He’s not fully recovered. He may never be. There are things he still doesn’t understand and emotions that are too big for him.
I fling the covers off to let cooler air hit my skin, and when it does little to soothe me, I flip my pillow over. The cool, satin underside is a relief against my face. I lean into it and close my eyes. My window unit kicks on, the white noise and chilly air a relief. Losing the thread of my thoughts, I sink into my pillow and doze.
Then I snap awake.
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