Page 61 of Finding Home with You

Despite the snow surrounding me, a cold sweat instantly breaks out all over my skin.

But it’s not the driving in snowy conditions that freaks me out; it’s the person who’s waiting for her as she walks obliviously over to my car.

I feel my body tense, my heart pounding in my chest as she turns to face him, as though in response to him calling out to her. The terror on her face nearly undoes me, the fear palpable even through my phone screen. The second I see Erin’s face, I don’t give a shit about Fitzgerald and what he might finally decide to tell me about Macklin.

Not when the shithead is standing in front of Erin, his hands on her body as he all but pins her against my car.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I say, killing the app and pulling up her number. I hit the call button, the phone ringing and ringing until it eventually goes to voicemail. Cursing, I immediately hang up and redial, only to hear the same recorded message.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I shout, running toward my car, my hands shaking so badly that I drop the keys. Bending to grab them, I scroll through my contacts until I find the one I need. Jamming the keys into the lock, I yank open the door as the phone is answered.

“Ryan, what can I do for you?”

“He’s fucking got her, Finn,” I scream into phone. “Fucking Macklin, he’s got her. He’s at her house, get the fuck over there.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Erin

He’s so close to my face that I can see the beads of sweat that have formed on his upper lip. He’s nervous and his hand trembles as he steps away from me and reaches behind him. His hand slipping beneath his jacket as he grabs for the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

My heart is hammering against my chest, the sound filling my ears and blocking out everything around me.

He’s going to kill me and I’m doing nothing to stop it.

I can feel the vomit rise up in my throat, burning and hot, but I stand firm, my eyes locked on Anthony’s.

Stepping away again, he tips his gun toward me, but not at me and lets out a low smarmy chuckle. Our eyes are locked on each other, neither one of us willing to concede to the fact that we’re both scared shitless. He won’t take me down. I won’t let him ruin the quiet life I’ve created for myself.

“Remember what I said, Erin,” he says, his voice low, but shaky as he backs his way down my driveway, never taking his eyes off of me. “Your boyfriend needs to watch himself. I think we both know I can make him disappear,” he adds, opening the car door and slipping inside just as quietly as he arrived.

I watch him drive out of view before I finally feel myself breathe again. Sucking in a long hard breath, and then on the exhale I vomit spectacularly on the driveway. My eyes watering and my throat burning as I attempt to pull myself back together.

I’m stronger than this and I know it. He won’t fuck with me; he won’t fuck with Ryan, because I’m about to make this all go away.

My fear has now turned to rage, and as I come down from my adrenaline rush, my whole body is shaking and my teeth are clenched so tightly that my head begins to throb, I grab my phone from my purse.

Starting the SUV and backing out of the driveway, I pull up the number to the prison. The one person who can stop this whole fucking mess is my father.

In a few quick minutes I’ve scheduled a visit with him for tomorrow afternoon, and I toss my phone onto the passenger seat.

I feel like I haven’t had a moment to gather my thoughts or settle myself down. My heart is still racing and my palms so sweaty that they slip along the steering wheel as I guide the car onto the ramp that meets the highway.

Even though I’m heading to Boston right now, I know I need to call Ryan and let him know what’s happened. But I’m so angry that I don’t think I could form a coherent thought.

The SUV slides slightly as I enter the highway, but it doesn’t stop me from hitting the accelerator a little harder, nearly pressing the pedal to the floor. The faster I get to Boston, the quicker I can fill Ryan in on what’s happened and the safer I will feel.

The highway has been plowed and while it’s free of snow, it’s still slick, and the cars that dot the road are driving slower than normal. I weave around a few slow ones and the road opens up. Keeping my speed steady, but fully aware of the icy conditions I move along several miles under the speed limit, but still in the left lane, until I come to another patch of slow moving vehicles.

I press the brake, but the SUV doesn’t slow and for a moment I think I may be sliding. Pushing down harder with my foot on the brake so it’s practically touching the floor, yet the car continues to move forward. It’s then that I realize the car isn’t going to stop and it isn’t the icy road that’s causing it.

The taillights of the car in front of me begin to move impossibly closer as I scream out Anthony’s name. He’s fucked with Ryan’s SUV, and I should never have been so stupid to not think he wouldn’t have.

Trying to avoid the car in front of me, I cut the wheel to the left and the SUV careens onto the shoulder striking the median with such force that it launches the car in the opposite direction.

Disoriented and hazy, I see headlights coming straight for me and then a blast shatters the windows and explodes the airbags.

Everything is moving in slow motion, I have absolutely no control as the car slides off the road and down into a ditch. Finally coming to rest, my body aches as the car fills with icy cold air. I can’t hold on much longer, my eyes are heavy as I feel around on the passenger seat for my phone, but before I find it everything goes black.

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