Page 270 of Heart So Hollow

“What about?” Hildy’s voice hitches in concern.

When I glance at Barrett, she’s watching me with baited breath.

“A few things…,” I sigh, keeping my voice serene, “it got kind of ugly. He left before I got up, and I haven’t talked to him at all today.”

“I told you he can be an asshole,” Hildy reassures, “you can’t tell him shit sometimes, but he always figures it out and makes it right again.”

“How long does he usually stay mad? I…” God, it’s hard to think on my feet, “I guess I’ve just been avoiding him…because I don’t want things to be awkward…” All the same, I need to find out how much Hildy knows and where Bowen is.

“Honestly, Brett, I wouldn’t worry about it. Bowen loves you, and once he’s all in, he’s all in. He might’ve been angry last night, but it’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.

“He’s committed,” Hildy continues, “it’s like when you all met—I told him that calling up some rando girl he saw walking by the lake was a bad idea, and now look!”

My eyes round and my face falls, “The lake?” I blink in astonishment, “What did you say?”

Everything goes silent. A few seconds later, there’s a shuffle on the other end of the call and a muted voice in the background. And before another lie can be spoken, I end the call.

Thanks for calling the wrong number last night…

And Hildy knew the entire time.

If I didn’t still feel like I needed to be on my guard, I’d be downing the rest of Barrett’s bottle of Town Branch right now. But, instead, I’m perched on her sofa, debating what to do next. Dragging my hand down my face in revulsion, I raise my phone and continue texting Colson.

ME (9:13PM): Bowen came here tonight.

COLSON (9:13PM): I know he did.

ME (9:14PM): How do you know he did??

COLSON (9:15PM): Because I saw it. Barrett’s smart for not opening the door.

ME (9:15PM): Don’t you have hobbies? Do you ever watch movies? Btw, we also found a GPS hidden under my car. That’s how he knew I was here.

COLSON (9:16PM): I’ll watch a movie with you tomorrow night. Because you’re coming here.

I would argue with Colson, like usual, but this time I can’t. And neither can Barrett. As angry as it makes her, she knows I can’t stay here much longer.

The GPS tracker is sitting two feet away from me on the ottoman, its blue light still blinking. We decide to leave it alone for the time being. Bowen already knows I’m here, and turning it off seems like it might exacerbate an already unstable situation. Barrett might be feisty, but she’s no match for an angry Bowen Garrison—neither of us are. And he wasn’t angry when he came to Barrett’s house looking for me.

He was hunting.

The same way he’s hunting when he finally sends me a text the next afternoon while I’m carefully packing all my stuff—what’s left of it—back into my duffel bag.

BOWEN (3:37PM): Brett, I’m so sorry for everything. I just need to hear your voice and know you’re safe. If you want, I’ll get you your own place until you’re ready to come home. I never meant to hurt you. I love you so damn much and I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right with you.

I start to type, but make myself stop. I know he sees it; the three little dots moving up and down, starting, then stopping…

It goes on like that for another 15 minutes or so.

Maybe I do still love Bowen to some extent, or at least part of him. As soon as I read his text, my stomach flutters with both horror and excitement and I have the overwhelming urge to see him. But it doesn’t last, because I know exactly what will happen if I go back to that house.

As soon as he looks at me with that intoxicating smile of his, I won’t be able to remember why I was angry. He’ll wrap his muscular arms around me and lift me in the air, hold me against him, and when he kisses me, it’ll be so intense that I’ll forget everything just long enough.

But I can’t forget. I have to remember. Because I know better.

One half-assed pseudo-apology can’t erase years of true crime binges and high school modules about dating violence and dorm bathrooms plastered with numbers for sexual assault and domestic violence hotlines. It can’t erase that night. It can’t erase the new terror unlocked for another decade—maybe longer.

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