Page 103 of Crave Me

I nod in agreement, knowing Blaire enjoys his company, and that she needs to see her friends and feel loved.

“Hey, I need to get going so I can grab some things for her from her apartment to bring back to my parents’ house, but I’ll text you.”

He walks over to his desk and grabs a key to Blaire’s apartment. I squash the jealous Neanderthal in me that wants to demand he not have access to her space, but I know it’s futile and won’t get me anywhere. He goes to toss me the key, but I put up my hand showing him that I already have one. I give him my thanks before heading around back to Blaire’s studio.

Walking into her space, I’m engulfed in her scent. I move to her bathroom and wash my face, blowing my nose and getting my shit together. Once I’ve composed myself, I get started on packing things that Blaire will need throughout her stay. I pack all of her toiletries, panties, bras, leggings, and a few pairs of sleep shorts. I purposefully don’t pack any T-shirts of her own. She can wear mine.

Leaving her apartment, I step on an envelope that I hadn’t noticed when I walked in. There isn’t even a mat outside her door, so I’m positive it wasn’t here ten minutes ago. Picking it up, I hold it between my fingers, looking at the blank manila envelope with no postage or address on it. I shove it under my arm and jog down to my Audi, looking up and down the street for anyone who could have just been here. Tossing Blaire’s things in the back with my own, I climb into the car and lock the doors.

My fingers shake slightly as I open the envelope and pull out a stack of photos with a sticky note attached to the front.

You’ve been a bad girl.

-Daddy

Bile rises in my throat as I skim through the photos. All of Blaire at various places. Bean Haven, talking with Hannah. Sitting at Rogue with Reid. Walking down Main Street by herself. Talking to a group at the distillery. The last one has myvision blurring and my stomach turning the acid around like a raging storm inside me. Blaire bent over my dining room table with me on my knees behind her.

“FUCK!”

Tossing everything on the seat next to me, I pull out my phone and call Sawyer. He answers on the first ring.

“Blaire near you?”

“No, sleeping right where you left her. What’s up?”

“We’ve got a huge fucking problem.”

I peel out of Main Street and gun it back to my parents’ house.

“You were right. It wasn’t an accident. Someone has been fucking following her and based on the package he left at her front door, my bet is on the motherfucker who tortured her as a teenager.”

“Shit. How do you want to deal with this? Want me to call Officer Hopkins?”

“Keep it between us for now. I’m not leaving her side. Keep Ivy close until I figure out how we’re going to play this.”

“Let me know what you need, brother.”

The call disconnects as I fly through Aspen Ridge to get to my girl. I promised her that I would keep her safe. I won’t fail again. I’m going to fix everything. I just need to decide how much I should tell her before I do.

“Dallas, there are no T-shirts in here.”

“I know, baby.” I pull off my Aspen Ridge Distillery tee and walk over to her, bunching it up in my hands and pulling it overher head where she sits on the bed looking through the duffel bag of her things. I don’t miss the way she swivels her face to the side into the shirt and inhales deeply. That’s my good girl.

“I’m going to need my own T-shirts; I can’t live in yours.”

“You can and you will. Are you hungry?”

She sighs deeply, her eyes withdrawn, her face battered and pale.

“I don’t think so.”

“You need to eat. So, what do you feel like having? We have homemade Tuscan vegetable soup with French bread, or I can make you a grilled cheese, French toast, a fruit bowl?”

“I’m really not hungry, Dallas.”

“Blaire,” I say sternly. “You need food to heal. So, what can I get you?”

“Fine. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

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