Page 6 of Almost True
More than that, it was this connection. Like in the last two hours, he’d listened and shared of himself.
Walking away felt so stupid. How often did a person encounter someone like this—someone handsome and charming and adorably shy at times while also being assertive enough to keep the conversation and connection rolling.
And because of that, I tugged at his hand and he inched closer, eyes spearing down into mine like he wasn’t certain I meant for him to get closer. But I did.
“Thank you,” I said, the strange crush of regret and desire driving me forward.
He blinked as if startled when my hand reached the warm skin of his neck. But as he’d demonstrated plenty so far tonight, he was a smart man, so even as he started to thank me in return with words, he leaned down and met my lips with his.
The light touch, just like our meeting, slid into something more in a matter of seconds. Soon, we were pressed close, our bodies pulling at each other as he devoured me, and I him.
The elevator’s ding broke our connection, and I stumbled back. He steadied me by the shoulders, his face as much a ravenous reflection of pleasure and want as mine felt.
“That…”
“Yeah,” I said, all breath and disbelief and longing. But instead of going back for more, I stepped away and caught the sliding doors before they shut. I leaned against the back, holding onto the railing with both hands, and watched as they slid shut again, Aidan’s gorgeous face and one hand raised in farewell the image I’d keep in my mind until the last second.
And for a long, long time after.
The memory of this night, of that kiss, would have to hold me through the long winter coming, the longer nights of New York City winter. They’d have to keep me close through my brother’s wedding and the utter bliss I’d see and love for them but be so far from for myself.
It might have to tide me over forever.
CHAPTERFOUR
NOW
Maddie
The air tasted sweeter after a near-death experience.
I laughed under my breath at that ridiculous statement but couldn’t deny the truth of it. Before, I wouldn’t have noticed the touch of vanilla on the breeze or how the trees planted at regular intervals along the street were starting to bud. I likely wouldn’t have even been outside, first from the need to be inside working, and more recently, for fear of being seen, found, or harmed.
And now, I was finally walking down Elk Street in Silverton, the small town where I’d come to take my sabbatical. And bysabbatical, I really meantthe time I needed to run away from a full-on stalker.I’d arrived what felt like weeks ago but had only been days, and I’d done almost nothing but cower in my sparsely furnished, unlandscaped new vacation home.
But that’s kind of what you do when someone’s stalking you. Or what I’d resorted to. After leaving me creepy signs that he’d “found me” in New York and LA, where I usually spent time, I’d fled here, but not without a plan. I’d hoped that would mean he’d lose track of me, lose interest. I know—a foolish line of thought in retrospect, and to their credit, none of the authorities who’d consulted on the case had suggested that would happen. It’d just been me living in la-la Land.
He didn’t forget, and we didn’t shake him, thanks to an epic security leakyet againin my personal team. I’d hired Wilder Saint’s company, a local Silverton security outfit, and he’d done everything he could, but a guy could only do so much when my own people were hampering his every move. But now that the creep had been apprehended and caught, I felt like I was taking a full breath for the first time in months.
Honestly? Maybe years.
I’d been in survival mode the last few months especially, but it’d never been more clear than now. Outside, in the open, continually reminding myself it was okay to be here. If someone saw me, recognized me, that was just fine. It’d take time to ease off the constant vigilance, and even now, knowing I was technically safe in this small town, it took purposeful mental unwinding of the tension in my head and heart to enjoy the moment.
The air here in the mountains of Silverton was thinner than back in LA or New York, but it felt fresh—crisp, almost, even though it was nearly June. I’d been warned by friends who’d spent some of the summer in different mountain towns that I’d be more likely to burn and thus needed to pack sunscreen.
It struck me as the oddest thing. I hadn’t put sunscreen on anything other than my face, neck, and hands as part of my skincare routine in years. I hadn’t taken a break from my life long enough to go outside and risk getting burned by the sun.
Well, my last time here didn’t count. Not really. Eighteen months ago, shortly after a brief visit with my brother and family at our house in Italy, I’d taken what I’d called a “holiday” in Silverton. My best friend, Juliet, had been raving about it for years as a beautiful, peaceful spot for an escape. We couldn’t ever coordinate our schedules for long, and the closer I’d gotten to my brother’s wedding, the more I’d needed a minute. I’d taken it… and had ended up spending all week holed up in my hotel room doing work. The idea that I’d let myself relax enough to spend time outside and need sunscreen?
And yet, the sun on my face felt amazing. I truly loved it. Of course, I occasionally felt it in New York, though coming out of winter, it didn’t seem like it, especially with the hours I kept. After the stress of the stalker, then the terror of him actually finding me—
Fear and nausea hit me like a slap in the face, a hand going to my stomach as if in reflex. I exhaled slowly and swallowed, willing away the sick, hunted feeling I’d lived with for months.
He’s not going to find you, because he’s in jail. It’s over. You’re free.
You’re free.
My heart slowed and I centered myself with a glance to the Silver Ridge Peak. It was truly beautiful, and even now, the very top still had a snowy peak, as it’d been unseasonably cool for late May. I savored the different view—not the rooftops of New York or glimpse of green space that was Central Park like my office and apartment offered. Not the parking lot from LA. Not the wisps of clouds streaming by my jet as I moved from one place to another.
