Page 61 of Bossy Hero

They want to go to dinner now. But I don’t.

I want to go home. Immediately.

This isn’t a damn double date. It was supposed to be a few drinks to say goodbye before I leave for Florida. That’s all.

Rick and Janice slide out of the booth. Isaac does the same, extending his hand for me to join him.

Moving on autopilot, I let him help me from the booth. Once I’m standing, his hand lingers on mine. I dare to glance into his eyes, surprised to find them tender and kind. No rage simmering there. No disdain for me.

By all accounts, he’s a decent man. I have no reason to suspect he means me any harm.

Then why does his touch feel like a thousand tiny needles piercing my skin?

I dart my gaze to the floor, struggling to swallow the moisture pooling in my mouth. The tips of my fingers tingle. My knees buckle, and a tremor runs through me.

And I snap.

Without conscious thought, my feet lurch me across the room. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to leave.

Need to run. Must hide.

I shoulder past strangers in my frantic quest to escape. The crashing sound of a glass breaking behind me makes me jump and cup my ears with both hands. My purse strap dangles in front of my face, making it hard to see where I’m headed. Moisture splashes onto me when I slam into a server with a drink tray. Someone yells.

But I keep running.

If you stop, he’ll find you.

The raised voices, music, and clamor of the bar fade into nothingness. I dive into the first open room I come across, shutting the door behind me and pressing my back against it. My breath comes in craggy waves, and I blink frantically, attempting to free myself from the darkness closing in.

Looks like the ladies’ room. Maybe he won’t follow me in here.

The thin door alone won’t keep him away, though. He’s broken through doors to get me before. Easily.

I race into the last stall, lock the door, and climb onto the toilet seat. I keep my feet off the ground so he can’t see them. And I wrap my arms around my shins.

In the same way I trained myself to do when I was young, I force my breathing to grow shallow. Gasping for breaths is easy to hear. Learned that the hard way. Now, it’s an automatic response.

Just hide in here. You’re safe now. He won’t find you as long as you’re quiet.

A chiming sound comes from my purse, causing me to yelp and my muscles to jerk. In my panic, I slip from the toilet seat and slam into the side of the bathroom stall.

“Are you okay in there?” an unfamiliar female voice asks.

I crane my head, bending down to see if I recognize the feet. And to see ifhissteps have caught up to me yet.

She’s just a stranger using the restroom stall beside me.

After I climb back onto the commode seat, I whisper, “I’m okay. I’m hiding.”

“Hiding? Do you want me to call the cops?”

Shit.

Never the cops.Never.

“No, please don’t. He’ll leave if he can’t find me. If anyone comes in looking for me, you haven’t seen me, okay?”

“What’s he look like?”

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