Page 38 of Embrace Me Forever

When she arrives in Denver, she heads to her apartment first. A smart move, especially since she couldn’t have known about the situation given the police’s phone call never reached her. Despite her own admission of not being good at lying, she has the presence of mind to keep her story anchored in reality.

I follow her discreetly, acutely aware of any unwanted attention that might compromise our safety. I opt to stay one floor below her, ensuring I’m close enough to intervene if needed yet distant enough to avoid detection.

Every shadow makes me tense, every sound puts me on high alert. My eyes constantly scan the surroundings, catching eventhe smallest movements. The twitch of a blind, a flicker of light. A surge of adrenaline fuels my heightened awareness. I’ve never been this hyper-vigilant, not even while keeping an eye on my bosses, Rob and Clayton. Whether I like it or not, Georgia-May embodies a bond that digs deep into my soul. My resolve to maintain a professional distance begins to crumble under the weight of my own feelings—feelings for her that are ingrained and increasingly difficult to resist.

Inside the building, I maintain a discreet distance. Police tape crisscrosses her apartment door. She pauses, her silhouette framed against the tape’s warning, then turns around without touching anything. She exits the building and heads back to the bus station, boarding a bus that I’m sure is taking her to the police station.

As I continue to follow her, my instincts scream at me to wrap my arm around her and guide her through whatever awaits. But I rein it in, forcing myself to hold back and stick with the plan.

Outside the police station, I sit tensely in my car, resisting the impulse to go inside and follow Georgia-May. Each second she’s out of sight ticks by like an eternity. My gaze keeps shifting to the station’s front doors, anticipating to see her step out.

I channel my restless energy into a vigilant sweep of the surroundings. Leaning back against the seat, I try to appear casual, a nondescript part of the street’s daily scene, even as my mind races with concern and strategy. My eyes scrutinize every face that passes, each vehicle that slows near the entrance, and anyone lingering too conspicuously. This watchfulness is a practiced discipline honed from years of not allowing personal feelings to compromise safety.

All is quiet. I don’t think her pursuers are around. They could be deterred by the police presence, a lingering effect of the raid at her apartment, or perhaps they believe she’s still in California.

The silence stretches with unbearable slowness. Then, Georgia-May finally emerges from the police station. She looks unscathed, yet her movements are quick, almost furtive, as if she’s ready to flee the place. Ensuring no eyes follow her, I hold back just outside the bus station and signal for her to join me. Every moment she’s not beside me gnaws at me with sharp teeth.

Her gaze flicks around the area, a brief scan before she approaches me. The tension in her posture melts away as she approaches.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my hand aching to touch hers.

“Yeah.” She almost slumps into the passenger seat, her relief palpable. “You were right. They’re treating it as an attempted burglary. They seemed casual about it, knowing I didn’t lose anything.”

As we start driving back, I keep my eyes on the rearview mirror, watching for any sign of a tail. The streets bathed in the fading light of the evening seem to cooperate, offering us a smooth passage.

“They asked about the check and the money,” she continues, her voice a murmur against the backdrop of the moving scenery. “I told them the truth, that I sold a program to Hartley Marine and used the money for Coco’s operation.”

“Good.”

“They said they’d call me if they found something. Non-committal.”

“For the first time, I’m glad for the police’s inaction.” I smirk slightly, allowing a rare glimpse of relief to cross my features.

Then she holds her breath before saying, “They showed me the CCTV from the bank. There was a man dressed in black, hooded up, gloved, and everything. He showed up twice. I told them I didn’t recognize him. They weren’t even sure if he was involved in the break-in at all.”

“Medium build, medium height? Could be just about anyone?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I’ve seen him, Georgia-May.”

She shifts herself to face me. “Where?”

“I was on your campus, about to meet with your supervisor. I spotted him right away. Like the one guy who brings a salad to a pizza party. That hooded man was asking about you, but I didn’t catch his face. The only thing that stood out was his accent. Kind of British, but not quite.”

She sighs, her gaze flicking away before locking back onto mine. “Where else have you been to find me?”

“Any place you might have gone, any lead that might bring me closer to finding who you really were.”

She licks her bottom lip as if pondering something on her mind. “I’ve seen him too,” she admits.

A tide of panic rises in my gut. “Where and when?”

“A week before I had dinner with Rob and Clayton, it was the first time in weeks that I planned to check my phone, which I’d left in my apartment. The hooded man was tailing me as I entered downtown Denver. I managed to shake him off, then circled back and drove straight to Colorado Springs Children’s Hospital.”

“You sure he doesn’t know about your sister’s place?”

“I’m sure.”

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