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That last one sat the heaviest in my gut. I could’ve stopped this if only I would’ve told someone about the note and my fears. A part of me worried they would be mad once they found out.

I knew it was dumb not to tell anyone. I understood now that I should’ve treated it like the real threat it was. But I never expected this, for my ex to take things to this level of violence. Sure, he was irate about the divorce, but this, destroying my stuff and scaring me, it was beyond what I’d imagined he was capable of.

That should tell me that either I didn’t really know the depth of his anger toward me or something had shifted in his mental state since I left him behind in Nashville.

“At least the plants were already dead. No loss there. Was there anything salvageable upstairs?” The words were like sandpaper scraping my dry throat.

Mouth tacky and gross, I’d give a nonessential organ for my oh-so-yummy unicorn drink.

“The plants… I didn’t mention that earlier.” Slade’s voice trembled with barely restrained anger. “You went into the house before you called us.” A frustrated statement, not a question.

“Calm down. Don’t hulk out on us.” Jameson shot me a smirk to lighten the dark mood. “She told me while you were looking around inside. When she got home earlier, she used the door leading to the attached garage and didn’t notice the damage to the front door. It wasn’t until Rain found the destruction in the living room and kitchen that she realized someone had broken in. That was when she ran outside and called the police, then you.”

It was a relief that there was zero jealousy or hurt in Jameson’s tone, signaling he was upset that I’d called Slade instead of him. It was instinctual, my fingers automatically finding Slade’s contact, knowing he’d handle everything. That he’d protect me and figure out a solution to the shit show that was suddenly in my life.

I cleared my throat, drawing both men’s gazes toward the back seat.

Once I told them this next part, they would more than likely lose their shit. But they needed to know.

“I didn’t initially see the mess and run outside. There was a noise. Upstairs. That’s when I bolted,” I confessed, locking my gaze out the window like the large homes on oversized lots actually held my rapt attention.

“What?” Slade practically growled. “The motherfucker who did this was still in the house?”

I winced at his scathing tone even though I knew he wasn’t mad at me, more about the situation and the asshole who he viewed as a threat to my safety.

Instead of clamming up beneath his frustration, I forced myself to continue. “I ran outside and down the street, hiding behind a corner. I didn’t want to be hanging out on the sidewalk alone when whoever was inside made their escape. There was no way he didn’t hear me. I was quite vocal when I realized someone vandalized my house.”

“That was brilliant, Rain. You realized you were in a dangerous situation and got yourself the hell out of Dodge.” Jameson fully turned in the seat, resting a comforting hand on my bare knee. Thinking I would shower at home, I didn’t change out of my workout clothes at the gym, so I still wore my short spandex shorts, matching sports bra, and Dri-Fit top. “Did you see them when they left? Any discernible features will help—”

“No.” Squeezing my eyes shut, I shook my head. “But I might know who did it.”

“A dead man?”

A snort escaped, tickling my nose at Slade’s violent, yet strangely comforting, remark. “My ex-husband.” Neither man said a word, the silence deafening. “I found a note on my front stoop the day Jameson arrived, when I ran home to check my hair straightener. It was tucked under my front mat.”

“Do you still have it?” Jameson asked, tone soothing, but there was no missing the strain in his voice. He was undeniably pissed. Slade, too, not that I blamed them.

“No.” I pressed the side of my head to the window. “It said ‘I found you’ or something like that. At first, I assumed it had something to do with work, but a note was too passive-aggressive for the type of people we deal with. And the verbiage ‘found’ made it feel like he’d been searching for me, not stalking. That would’ve been ‘I’m watching’ instead.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Slade demanded. Jameson shot him a pointed glare. Slade cleared his throat and shifted in the driver’s seat. “Sorry, why didn’t you tell us?” This time his tone was soothing instead of pulsing with anger.

“When I saw you two later that day, my mind automatically went to discussing the autopsy. Then Jameson started staying with me, so the fear that note generated was pushed to the background because I wasn’t alone.” Leaning forward, I poked a single finger into Slade’s shoulder. “And don’t you victim-blame me, Slade Taylor. I had no idea this would happen.”

“I’m not blaming you. Fuck, do you think I would?”

I lurched forward, the seat belt snapping across my chest when the car came to an abrupt stop. My jaw dropped when he flung open his door, mine following suit half a second later. Between blinks, Slade was crouched in the street, putting us at eye level.

“Tell me you don’t think I’m that kind of man. That for even half a second you believed I would blame you for what happened.”

Sincerity and desperation leaked from his gravelly tone, those green eyes imploring me to believe him.

And I did. Slade was grouchy, not mean.

Heat warmed my palm when I cupped his scruff-covered cheek. “No, Slade. I don’t think you’d do that. To me or any woman. I’m just… I’m feeling guilty because I didn’t tell anyone, and now we’re here.”

“Thank fuck.”

Too fast for me to react, Slade lunged forward and sealed his lips to mine. Eyes wide, I could only blink, too shocked to move.

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