Page 89 of You Were Invited
“You,” Julian said, addressing Chris. He jerked the gun towards the car as he carefully moved backwards with Annie. Theirbare feet shuffled on the cold gravel. “You’re going to leave. We’re all going to forget this night. But you drive away. Far away. If you ever try to contact Annie again, even if it’s to say hello, I will immediately file a police report and have you arrested for assault and stalking.” Now up on the deck, he beckoned Chris forward with his empty hand. “Slowly. Get in your car. Get off my property.”
“She’ll learn one way or another that I’m the only one for her, the dumb bitch,” Chris muttered, walking forward, hands still up. He pulled open the driver’s side door, and as he slammed it, Julian almost wished the man had given him a definitive reason to put a bullet through his skull. Chris was no doubt enraged that he’d lost in such an ugly way.
In his gut, Julian somehow knew that Chris would never give up his obsession.
Finally, the set of red taillights disappeared down the driveway, the madman leaving them with the sound of their terrorized, heaving breaths.
Satisfied Chris was gone, Julian switched his gun’s safety back on.
“Julian...” Annie whimpered, trembling.
He guided Annie into the cabin. Closing the door, he slammed every deadbolt home before he wound his arms around her. He brought her as close to his chest as he could, and placed a hand on the back of her head. His fingers mingled with her locks.
“Ow!” She flinched and gently pulled his hand away. “He yanked my hair...”
“Sorry.” He rocked her gently. “I’m so sorry, Annie. I couldn’t aim at him until he put you down.” Chris threatening her life would’ve been the exception.But let’s not think about that.
“He’s changed,” she said, crying intohis chest.
Still holding her, Julian found her phone, which he’d tucked into his back pocket. He dialed 911. It rang for a few moments before a male voice came over the line.
“Hello, what’s your emergency?”
Annie looked up, confused.
“Yeah,” Julian replied. He rubbed his tender jaw. “I need to report a drunk driver...”
The afternoon following the fiasco with Chris, Annie couldn’t bear to leave Julian. She could hardly keep her eyes open, but the last thing she wanted was to rest. Sleeping through nightmares filled with awful scenarios her brain cooked up was even more draining.
“He’s not here,” Julian whispered when she’d woken up in a cold sweat.
A kiss to her forehead.
Slow strokes pressed into her back.
“You’re safe with me. You’re in my room. Under these warm blankets. Take a deep breath…”
Annie exhaled slowly, nestling closer to Julian’s chest. He wrapped his warm arms around her.
“I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there,” she whispered. She looked up and traced the outline of the bruise forming on his jaw. Guilt washed over her. “Your poor face.”
“Worth it. I’d take a hundred punches if it meant keeping you safe.”
The next day, they stopped by Molly’s cabin to fix the leaking kitchen sink with the parts Julian had bought weeks before. To her dismay, he told her that his dad was getting out of prison— not only early, but indays.
What the fuck! That’s egregious. It surely weighed on him like a dead chicken hung around his neck. She worried his frustration would trigger something dark. Poke at habits he’d worked so hard to overcome.
This is going to test him. Test any residual anger he’s forced down.
Julian confessed that he’d deleted her phone number, and she gave it to him again before she left Northgold a few days later. She felt a little guilty that he’d given up on her that much, but what mattered was that they had vowed to make things work.
They were both still shaken up, but Peter needed Annie back home in time for the anniversary party, and she’d promised she’d still help. She thought about telling Molly and Peter what had happened over the phone, but knew it was something that needed to be explained in person. Julian would drive into town for the party the day of to join her.
The first morning back in Fort Walton, Annie checked her messages. She’d sent off her articles for review. In her inbox was an email from her boss. Her leg bounced, but once she read Leonard Princely’s praise, she put a hand to her chest and let out a sigh of relief.
To: Annie Turner
From: Leonard Princely
