Page 97 of Tender Heart
“Come sit, Evie.” Iris pulls out a chair. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
This could be interesting.
I walk over and drop into the seat she pulled out at the head of the table. Her and Cal sit on either side of the weathered rectangular wooden table. A pile of papers and something that looks like an old-fashioned accounting ledger sit in the middle.
Cal slides the book over and flips the cover open, thumbing through pages until he comes to the one he wants.
“So just how famous are you, Miss Eve?” Iris asks.
The question takes me aback. “What do you mean?” I try to smile. But the knot of hope-infused butterflies from earlier petrifies and sinks.
“A fan of yours was in here this morning asking about you. He was so excited I knew you. He left this for you.” Iris glances at her brother before returning her gaze to me as she slides a cream envelope across the table.
My throat closes over. My fingers close around the fabric of the skirt of my dress. “Not famous,” I choke out. I’m shaking my head, but I can’t move my body.
“Evie?” Cal says. It echoes through my senses before fading away.
“I have to go.” I shoot up off the chair and it topples over, clattering to the floor. I’m out the front door, its chimes tinkling behind me as the heels of my boots snap down the sidewalk. Trying to haul air into my lungs as the night’s darkness folds in around me.
Not my best idea.
Out on the deserted street, alone.
Everyone must be at the festival.
I run my hand through my hair, pacing back and forth in front of the hardware store a few doors down from the café. The streetlight’s glow doesn’t make it this far and when I look up, my eyes pointing toward the glittering marina, I realize how dark it is.
Panic claws through my veins, sending sickening heat through my spine.
T.
He’s here.
He’s fuckinghere.
I should be anywhere but alone in the dark. I try to smooth over my hair and pat down my dress. Dragging in a large lungful of air, I head back to the café. I find Cal leaning on the doorframe outside the small diner.
Of course he is.
I was probably never even out of his sight.
“You’re going to tell me about that. Right now.” He pushes off the frame.
I stop, wrapping my arms around my body.
I should tell him.
I should tell the world and take away T’s power.
Then every self-deprecating thought I have ever held about having a stalker floods in. How could you not notice? Why didn’t you say something the first time? He hasn’t done anything bad, really... He hasn’t done anything real, only letters and vague threats.
Until the last letter, that is.
He killed Joshua.
Because Iignoredhim.
I stare into the serious blues now holding me to the spot. “No.”
