Page 26 of Dear John

“You were looking forsomething.” He stalked around the table and headed right for me. I had nowhere to go, no clear escape route. He backed me against the counter, crowding me so much that I began to feel claustrophobic. “What aren’t you telling me, Little Red?”

I chuckled at the nickname. “Little Red? It’s not any better than Red. I hope you realize that.”

“Stop deflecting,” he grumbled, his eyes turning to steel. “What are you so worried about?”

I swallowed hard, my eyes searching the ground for anything that might give me inspiration, but as his fingers firmly gripped my chin and forced me to look up, I knew I had no way out.

“Isla, no lies. Trust goes both ways.”

Damn me and my stupid mouth. “There was a car.”

His whole body went rigid at my declaration. “The gray car?”

I nodded. “It’s not always around, but…”

“But you’ve seen it again.”

“It wasn’t there,” I rushed on. “I was just…” I trailed off, stopping myself from admitting that, for a moment, I thought it was who was following me in the grocery store, but that would open another can of worms that I didn’t want to get into.

“Dammit, why didn’t you tell me?” He pulled out his phone and immediately dialed who I could only imagine was someone he worked with.

“Kavanaugh—”

“Rae, I need you to pull up the outdoor camera footage at Isla’s house and tell me if you see a gray car hanging around any time over the last month.”

I loved the way he just ordered people around.Rolling my eyes at my inner dialogue, I waited for him to get what he needed from her. But the whole time, he never stepped away from me. If anything, he seemed to shift closer. One hand rested on the counter beside me, and his body eased right up against mine.

“Yeah, let me know when you find something. And tell Cash I need a team out here.”

“Kavanaugh—” I started, but his glare instantly cut me off. I snapped my mouth shut and tried not to be irritated with the scowl on his face.

The only thing I heard on this end was a bunch of grunts and irritated mutters until he finally hung up the phone. I kept my gaze focused on his shirt and the tiny hole that hovered right above his right nipple. But I could feel the weight of his stare on me. He was pissed, and things were about to get heated.

“Do you want to explain to me why you didn’t tell me the car was back?”

I sighed, unsure of what to tell him. “Because…because nothing ever happened.”

“It’s stalking,” Kavanaugh snapped. “All it takes is for this idiot to decide he wants to take it to the next level, and you’re dead!”

I inhaled sharply at his words, trying not to let the images of that night flood my mind. I heard him curse under his breath, and finally, he took a step back, giving me some much-needed space.

“Isla, I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

I could hear the weariness in his voice, and I hated that I caused that, but how did I tell him that I knew he’d react just like this without causing an argument? The last thing I wanted was to have men tromping through my house and additional security building up by the second.

“I…I understand that you want to take care of me, but…”

“But?”

“But this is too much,” I breathed out. “I’m trying to get back to normal and?—”

“And what? You don’t want to be safe?”

“I don’t want the constant reminder that something could happen,” I snapped. “Shawn is not coming back and?—”

“And you didn’t fucking tell me last time that something was going on. You kept all this shit to yourself and look at what happened.”

I flinched at his words, feeling like he was putting this all on me. And maybe it was my fault. But who actually believes their spouse will take things as far as murder?

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