Page 25 of Saffron and Secrets

“Not really,” he says and keeps his hand on me.

I try to move, but he mimics my stance.

Reality sets in when his answer confirms it’s been him.

“You shouldn't do it. It's been frightening me.”

His face falls. “I didn't mean to frighten you. I just wanted to see you.”

“I get that, but there'll be nothing between us. Ever.”

“Is it because of him?” he spits angrily, and my back straightens.

“Who?”

“The tall, dark-haired guy. He always wears a black suit.”

Oh gosh. I know exactly who he means. John.

I don't want to tell him John's name, so I brush it off. “I'm single, and I'm not interested in anybody.”

“But you won’t go on a coffee date with me,” he argues in a clipped tone.

And he’s right, I won’t. I need to get out here so I can call the cops. He’s getting angrier now that he’s asking about John.

“I'm gonna go into Sally's now and get my flowers. I think it's time for you to go home.”

“I don't want to go home. I want to be with you.” He squeezes my arm, and I try to shake off his grip, but his hand is too tight.

“You can’t, and please stop following me.” The back of my eyes sting with tears and the last words come out pleading.

“You heard her.”

I close my eyes, and a tear of relief falls when I hear John’s voice.

“That's him,” Paul says.

“Take. Your. Hand. Off. Her,” John says venomously. I can hear the shake in his voice. “Now!”

Paul drops it fast and steps back. Having John’s presence around me makes me relax a little. I'm so grateful right now. I’m still shaken, but in the corner of my eye, I can see a police car.

I wonder if John called them or if it was an onlooker. Either way I’m grateful.

I blow out a breath and wipe my eyes roughly with the back of my hands, refusing to cry.

Paul spots the police and tries to make a run for it, screaming, “I haven't done anything.”

I bury my face in my hands as my heart beats faster. This is a disaster. I've never given him a sign we would ever be anything. I was there for him, treating him, helping him through trauma.

And it seems he's grown attached.

It's hard not to feel guilty and mull over our sessions. Like have I said or done anything that would give him this impression? I’ve heard of this happening, but this is the first time it's happened to me.

“Come here,” John commands, and he turns with wide open arms.

I grab his middle, resting my head on his chest, hearing his thumping heartbeats. He wraps his arms around me, so I tighten mine and cuddle him back.

He feels like relief. And it's what I need. He's exactly what I need. The only person I want touching me.

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