Page 256 of Heart So Hollow

Focus.

I have to get to Colson. I have to show him where to find me, so he can lead me back home.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Barrett

One Year Ago

I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me. But we’re all human and make mistakes, especially when my best friend is accusing me of trying to fuck her fiancé. It’s all too ridiculous, even for me.

I blow up Brett’s phone until she blocks me. Then, I blow up Bowen’s phone until he blocks me, too. At that point, I don’t care if she knows I’ve been calling him non-stop. He can tell whatever lies about me he wants. It doesn’t matter now. I should’ve just called her right after it happened, work and morning routines be damned. Maybe I was still in shock.

That morning, when Bowen said he could come fix my outlet, I’d just finished drying my hair when I realized my shirt was still hanging in the laundry room with the rest of my clothes in the dryer. After flying down the stairs and tearing through my kitchen in nothing but a pair of purple lace panties, I grab an armful of clothes and run back into the kitchen, only to let out a shrill scream when see a tall, dark silhouette standing at the counter next to the refrigerator.

Clutching my clothes, I stumble backward, curling in on myself in terror. I’m about to take off running through the dining room to the back door, naked or not, when I catch a glimpse of Bowen’s broad grin in the dim light. I stare at him, frozen, with my jaw hanging.

“Shit,” Bowen chuckles, “sorry, sweetheart.”

I let out a livid groan, wrapping my arms tighter around myself, “What are you doing here?” I snap. “When did you come in?”

“Got you a new outlet,” he replies, lifting a white box and jiggling it between his fingers, “I texted you when I was on my way. Didn’t you get it?” He steps around the corner of the counter and leans against the island.

I blink a few times, still trying to get my bearings, “No. I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t looked at my phone.”

Now that I know there’s not some masked intruder in my house and I won’t be murdered before work, I can calm down. But it doesn’t last for long because, even though it’s just Bowen, I’m still standing in the middle of the kitchen in my panties—and only my panties—trying to cover myself with a wad of loose laundry. This is beyond embarrassing.

Jesus, he probably saw my tits and everything.

“Doesn’t matter,” he pulls the new outlet out and tosses the box onto the granite behind him, “it only takes a couple minutes to replace.”.

“Oh, good,” I swallow hard and refocus, “sorry for screaming at you. I’ll go change and be right down.”

I start to scurry past him, but his leg flies up and he plants his boot on the pantry door with a thud, blocking my path. At first, I just stare at his leg, unable to process why it’s there. My eyes dart up to his face, his expression is unchanged. He’s looking at me with the same nonchalance as before, unbothered by the fact that I just screamed bloody murder and, by the way, I’m not wearing any clothes.

“Excuse me, Bowen,” I say with a hint of sarcasm.

He likes fucking with people, including me, but it usually takes the form of trash-talking banter or engaging the child locks on the back doors of his truck so I can’t get out right away.

“Before you go, I wanted to ask you something.”

Seriously? Now?

I look at him impatiently, hoping he’ll hurry it up so I can go put some clothes on, “What is it?”

“Has Brett told you anything about the guy she works with?” he asks.

“Which guy?”

He tosses his hair out of his eye, “The guy that put a gun to her head.”

I glance down at Bowen’s leg, still planted on the pantry door, “I know he works there.” I keep my tone light, because there’s something about Bowen that doesn’t seem right.

“So, she did tell you about Colson,” there’s a hint of smugness in his tone, “she told me about him when we met, but said I’m the only one who knows what happened with him.”

Shit.

Bowen gives a shake of his head, “It doesn’t matter.”

---