Page 47 of Stay for Me

“How do you know about the application?” I demanded, my voice rising with each word.

“Got a buddy who works at the school, babe. He saw your name in the system and told me,” he explained, as if that didn’t breach countless privacy laws.

I said nothing, wondering why he didn’t say anything beforehand. Why wait until midnight and when he was drunk—-

I felt my mouth flatten as the realization hit me.

This had been his plan all along. He wanted to wait for me to be alone so he could try and sweet talk me, and after the fucking day I’d had, my finger was itching to pull the trigger. Just one good bullet in his kneecap would satisfy me; maybe that would teach him to stay the hell out of my life.

Last Christmas, I’d applied for a summer teaching position at Yale. Teaching for a semester here and there in Denver gave me the confidence I needed to apply to Yale. The university wouldn’t need me until the year after next, giving me time to teach one more semester in Denver and get my firm prepared for my absence.

The hard truth was, I knew I couldn’t do this forever, and I’d gotten this wild teaching idea from Valerie during one of our Wine Wednesdays. When I retired, there would have to be someone else to defend the ranches, big or small. After submitting the application to Yale, I knew it would be a long shot, and since I hadn’t heard anything…

I’d honestly left that dream on the back burner.

“Diana, open the door so we can talk,” Lucas demanded, his voice donning a sharper edge now.

A lump formed in my throat, an uneasy feeling looming over me. My privacy had been invaded. He knew about my plans. I thought he would’ve moved on by now. What we had took place a lifetime ago.

“Who is your friend?” I inquired, stepping closer to the door again, my fingers flexing on the gun by my thigh.

“What?”

I let out a deep breath. “Your friend who works at Yale. Who is he?”

“Oh, you know him, babe. Mikey. You know, from school.”

Mikey. I looked up the ceiling, trying to put a face to the name. High school was, again, a lifetime ago, and with no one from it in my current life, it was easy to forget the people I’d spent four plus years with in classrooms. Unfortunately, I hadn’t forgotten this one.

Mikey Grant.

He played football with Lucas and was a jackass.

“What does he do at Yale?” I asked, praying he was drunk enough to answer.

“Let me inside, and I’ll tell you all about it. This is big, Diana,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice—the sense of victory. He thought he had me. “This is huge, babe. I knew you would always come back to me.”

My eyes rolled before I could stop them, and I tipped my head to the ceiling once more. I needed the universe to give me a dang break, just a small one. This was the second time within twenty-four hours I’d had to listen to this crap. “Lucas, it’s late—”

“—let me in, Diana,” he repeated, jiggling the doorknob.

I looked through the peephole again, my stomach dropping to the floor. After a few moments, he slammed his fist against it, letting out a growl of frustration, cursing my name. His head shot up then and slightly tilted to the side, giving me a closer look at his eyes.

What hit me next felt like a freight train, and no amount of healing and growth would let me escape it.

Fear coiled around my neck, the memory of him choking me the last time I had to deal with him like this rushing to the surface. I could feel his fingers around my neck, squeezing and cutting off my air as he pinned me to the floor of my apartment, yelling at down at me.

He wasn’tjustdrunk.

“Shit,” I breathed, my resolution long tarnished.

My mouth went dry as he ticked his head to the other side and snarled, “Diana! Let me in!”

I jumped back as he continued to bang on the door, shouting and jiggling the knob. My heart rate began to climb, my hand trembling as I lifted my phone and called Chase.

The call went straight to voicemail.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

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