Page 134 of Falling Too Late

“Yeah, but they fucking failed,” he griped. I watched as he brought the mug up. Time seemed to slow as I watched the liquid almost touch his lips, then he pulled the mug away without taking a drink. “Of course, the guy they sent in there ran into someone who had a problem with him, and Alex, of all fucking people, saved the guy.” Jon shook his head and muttered, “Who knew the fucking trailer trash knew how to fight.”

Fuck.

“I should have paid more attention, but like Alex, you managed to fucking distractme.”

He looked back to the mug before he set it down on the table. The hope I had fizzled out quickly. I glanced around the kitchen trying to find something to use. I took a drink of my own coffee, careful not to place my lips in the same area my hands touched. I had dealt with an unhinged man before. Jon was nothing compared to him.

I just needed to wait it out.

“So, you made up a story. Gave me a fake death certificate and watched me mourn the loss ofourbest friend for. . . years.” I sighed the last word out. “What happened to all the letters I sent him? The ones he sent me?” I tried to keep my voice neutral, keeping my eyes on the clock and looking down at the gun still gripped in his hand.

“I had some friends in the mail room. Had them destroy them all. You needed to move on. You were unwell. I only did what wasbest for you.” Jon sounded like he had convinced himself that everything he had done was in my best interest.

“Then you distracted me. I didn’t ensure they had taken care of business. You finally were going to order the headstone, and I knew you were ready.” He walked over to me. His hands came up, one still holding the gun, and cupped my face. “We could finally be together.” He closed his eyes, his head tilting slightly like he was in pain. I glanced at the backdoor, noting it was unlocked.

“I. . .I never knew you felt that way.” I tried to push down the fear that was building.

“C-can I get a refill?” I straightened as I regained the space I needed.

“Sure.” His eyes were still closed and he motioned in the direction of the coffee pot.

Do it. This is your chance.

I turned to the carafe, grabbing it and tossing the hot coffee on him.

“FUCK!” he screamed.

The gun clattered. I smashed my mug over his head before rushing out of his reach, throwing the backdoor open and running. I hit the grass and slipped in the dew. I scrambled and kept running down the hill. Terror nipped at my heels.

The lake came into view.

I slipped into the water as calmly as possible, trying to ensure that the ripples didn’t expose my hiding spot under the dock. I thought about swimming to the other side, calculating how long I could hold my breath, how deep I could get under the surface, but he would see me. I wasn’t sure how good with a gun he was, and I wasn’t willing to risk it.

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just listened.

“Wren!”

I could hear Jon screaming, and I worried that Alex or the dogs would hear him too.

Please no.

Footsteps sounded on the dock. I tried to look up between thewood slats but they were too tight together. I could only see a shadow.

It was quiet, and I thought I could see him retreating to the house.

A hand came down and grabbed me by my hair. I locked my arms around the post. He ripped at my hair, but I didn’t let up.

“You fucking bitch!” He jumped down into the water, managing to pull me away from the post.

He dragged me from the water, onto the lake’s edge, and loomed over me. “After everything I have done for you!”

Once we were on solid ground, I managed to twist around and kick him right in the groin. He dropped to his knees, and I scrambled away from him. My fingers dug into the soft marshy ground and I pulled myself away from him. His hand gripped my ankle, pulling me back. I turned in his hold and kicked him in the face.

I ran up the hill and back into the house. I dashed through the kitchen soaking wet. The broken glass sliced my foot open, the pain causing me to stumble and fall in the hall. I scrambled back up, lifting my foot and seeing the large shard I had stepped on.

I dug my nails around the shard and pulled it out, tossing it to the ground.

I looked up the stairs. If I went upstairs, I could get my phone and at least dial 911. Or, I could try to run and lose him in the brush.

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