Page 24 of Saffron and Secrets

The gleam in his eye causes my relief to quickly fade.

He shrugs with a sly smirk “Same old. I miss you.”

Those words.

The same ones on the note.

I miss you…

Panic now rises through my chest, and my heart is beating wildly in my ear. I wonder if I’m in a nightmare and need to wake up.

I force a smile, but it’s a stretch, not knowing how to respond to this insane interaction. He misses me? What, as in our therapy sessions where we spoke about his awful upbringing and ways to cope? I don’t miss him, and my throat constricts when I remember how he's been asking me out a lot. And I want to kick myself at why didn’t I think of ending our sessions after the first time he asked me out. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but not practical when you’re on the verge of a panic attack.

I swallow as I realize the eeriness is still there, and it’s stronger. And I feel like all the puzzle pieces are clicking together, but there is that small part of wishful thinking.

He hasn’t. He wouldn't.

But as the panic bubbles beneath the surface and rumbles through my body, I know in my gut it’s him.

Fuck, this is the guy.

It's him.

Has to be him.

He's been following me.

It all makes sense now. And I close my eyes, sucking in deep breaths, trying to take big lungfuls of air. It’s harder through my restricted throat and my damn brain won’t switch off, adding to the fear and panic.

He grew fond of me when I was trying to help him sort through his childhood trauma.

He always thought I was an angel, and he used to say I helped him heal and how much he wanted to take me out to thank him. I had to explain recently that I didn't date clients. So, then he left and still kept coming to the clinic to ask me out and I said, I'm not interested.

The panic seems to rise, and my breaths quicken.

“Angel, your color is white. Are you okay?” he says as he tries to touch me.

I jump back, struggling to breathe, looking around with wide eyes. Inside, I’m praying that John will come.

I want to get inside, knowing it’ll be safer there. I blow out a shaky breath. “Oh, I’ve got to go get an order. Sally is waiting for me.”

I’m wrong. He immediately insists on coming along.

And I panic. I don't want him to keep following me. And I can’t say anything to Sally if he stands right beside me.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” I say, trying to put on my strongest voice, even though I’m vibrating with nerves.

“Why?” he asks, puzzled.

“I'm not feeling very comfortable.”

His brows pinch together. “Why? I care about you. We would be so good together. I can take care of you.”

He strokes my arm. And now I’m visibly shaking my teeth, clicking them noisily. I close my mouth and look around before returning to face him.

Oh my god. What the hell am I gonna do?

“Please don’t touch me. Have you been following me?”

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