I launched up from the bed, scaring the daylights out of Rugsy and whipping my head around to look at my alarm clock.
“Shit. Shit, shit, shit!”
The textbook splayed open near me told me everything I needed to know. I’d unintentionally crashed before setting my alarm. Again. Shit!
Dressed in only my borrowed, over-sized hoodie and underwear, I half-fell to the floor in my haste, flinging my bedroom door open and racing toward Jamie’s room. I cracked the door open enough to peek in and, remembering Layla passed out in the next room, whisper-yelled, “Get up, bud, we are so very late!”
Seeing him flinch awake, I raced back to my room, looking at myself in the mirror. God help everyone who had to look upon me today, for their eyes would truly be punished. My hair was a lost cause, more frizz than curl, so up it went into a tight, librarian-style bun.
I opted to skip makeup completely, instead shucking my clothes off and throwing on the first work dress I saw. The knee-length, pencil skirt bottom at least gave me some shape, and the leopard print, ruffled top added some much-needed flair. I’d even wear heels. It’d have to do.
Following Rugsy’s waddle, I made my way to the living room, knocking on Jamie’s door again. “Jamie, get dressed, we gotta go!”
His door flung open. “I’m ready. What happened?”
“I’m sorry, I fell asleep reading and forgot to set my alarm. I think we still have a few of the emergency fruit pastries. Go run a brush through your hair and your toothbrush over your teeth, and I’ll grab a package for you.”
I checked the time on my phone. He would be at least a solid fifteen minutes late to school, which meant I’d be even later than that to work. I cursed, dialing Evaline to let her know.
She clicked her tongue. “No problem at all, honey, I’m just sitting here online shopping for new office chairs anyway.”
Of course, she was. “Thanks, Evaline, I’ll see you soon.”
Hanging up, I grabbed my purse and slipped into my heels. I felt like I was beginning to lose the tight grip I’d been holding onto my life and everything in it. I’d never been late before, and now it felt like it was becoming a regular occurrence. Next thing you knew, I’d be missing assignments. The thought alone had me queasy.
We ran out to the Jeep like the chaotic creatures we were, and I’d never been so thankful to not run into Garrett. It’d been several days since I’d invited him into my house, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t worn his hoodie to bed each night since. Not because I was a lonely social creature in need of a man to date, but because Garrett smelled amazing.
One quick drive—only a smidge over the speed limit—and several nasty glares from school employees later, I pulled into my work parking lot. A half hour late.
I sighed, resting my head on my steering wheel and wasting one more minute to breathe. I could do this. A bad start to a day didn’t mean it would be a bad day overall. It would be fine.
Shuffling the papers, I rearranged them in order to make another set of copies. I really needed to use the larger machine, but I’d already ditched my heels and didn’t feel like putting them back on to walk to the other side. I could only imagine Jim’s face if he caught me strutting through the building with only hosiery covering my feet.
Adding the newest set to the pile on the table next to me, I frowned when I heard the door to the hall open and close. Evaline was at her weekly lunch with her daughters at the golf club and would be gone for a few hours. Maybe Jim was checking on something?
I was about to call out when the heavy, familiar thud of boots made its way toward me. Why? Why me? Why today? I cringed, listening to the steps grow louder and pause near the doorway to my office. A second later they started up again, closer to the middle room I was in.
I imagined this was how the characters in a horror film might feel if they could hear the suspenseful music that played for viewers right before they inevitably had their heads chopped off. There was something even more unsettling about a situation when you knew it was coming but couldn’t escape it.
The steps paused again, but I didn’t stop what I was doing, continuing to feed papers into the printer one at a time. I refused to turn or acknowledge him, hoping he’d get the message and walk back out. This was not his side of the company. If he had a question, he could easily call either myself or Evaline’s direct extension.
There was zero need for him to be on this side of the building.
Of course, he didn’t get my neon sign. I could feel his sticky presence behind me, watching but not speaking, as if enjoying the opportunity. Creepy ass fucker.
The smart choice would’ve been to inform him I was aware of his presence, a simple “Hello, Rob” would do. The next smart choice would be to get the hell out of dodge and avoid being in this wing of the building completely alone with him. But I didn’t.
Something about this man made me revert into the worst version of myself, the version that rolled over and shut up. I knew it, saw it. Yet I couldn’t seem to stop it.
Rob’s version of intimidation was different than Garrett’s. Garrett was intimidating in the strong, silent way, like a bodyguard. Rob was intimidating in the way he would push me just to feel good about himself. He liked to see me squirm. I might as well have been cornered in a room with Aaron, and that’s what terrified me.
His clothing rustled as he shifted his weight and took another step. He still hadn’t spoken, and I had to swallow down the uneasy feeling crawling up my throat like a thick sludge. The irony that this was a security company, yet we had no security cameras on this side of the building, wasn’t lost on me.
Taking a small breath—when I really wanted to heave—so he wouldn’t see my rising panic, I finally turned my torso to face him, going with smart option number one. “Hello, Rob.”
“Good morning, darlin’.” It was afternoon. “You look amazing today.”
My nose curled. It wasn’t low self-esteem that had me disagreeing with him. I genuinely looked a mess today, which meant he was solely referring to the shape of my body in my dress. I’d never understand the nerve of people like him. Did he truly have no shame, or were social cues just that difficult for him?
Choosing to ignore his comment, I asked, “Is there something I can help you with? Evaline should be back from lunch soon. I’m sorry if you called one of us, I’ve been stuck making copies for several minutes.”
“I knew Evaline was out.” His eyes trailed down my body, and I took an instinctual step away, bumping into the printer and shifting it back an inch with an ear-cringing screech.
“Okay, well, I’m trying to head out to lunch myself soon, so I need to finish these up. Leave a note on my desk for whatever you need, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Let me take you to lunch.”
“Oh.” Not a chance in hell. “No, thank you. I was planning on heading home during my lunch break today.” I wasn’t. It’d take my entire break to go home and get back.
“Dinner then.” He closed another foot of distance, and my panic was now clawing at me, closing off my throat.
“I can’t. I have class in the evenings during the week and work nights on the weekends.” My internal dialogue screamed at me to just tell him no, I wasn’t interested and never would be. “I’m sorry.”
His brow creased. “Where else do you work?”
Fumbling for the stack of papers next to me, I picked them up, holding them to my chest like a shield. “I work several places.” I forced a laugh. “I’m just really busy so again, I’m sorry. If you’ll excuse me.”
I moved to edge around him, but he reached an arm out, blocking my path. “I want to see you outside of work, Madison. Tell me what day, and I’ll make it happen.”
My body was tensed so tight, I’d shatter if I fell. “I can’t, Rob. Will you please let me pass?”
His eyes narrowed on me like I was misleading him in some way. “Do you have a boyfriend? Is that it? I’ve never heard you mention one.”
“I don’t. I told you, I work a lot.”
He leaned in, his cologne stabbing into my nostrils, tempting me to hold my breath. “I’ll take you somewhere nice. You can get all dolled up with your hair down and a pretty dress.”
Is that really what he thought would change my mind? All that sounded like to me was a lot of damn work. And for what? A free meal and a gag-worthy one-night stand? Hard pass.
“No, thank you. Please let me by, I need to finish these up before I leave.”
I nudged my stack of papers against his arm, internally begging him to move. He regularly pushed past my comfort zone, but he always pulled back before it went this far. It gave me a bad feeling, and I’d bet my paycheck Jim wasn’t in the building either.
He dropped his arm, but instead of allowing me by, he replaced it with his chest, smashing my personal bubble into a million pieces. My eyes widened of their own accord, and the sound I made was something I’d remember long after this nightmare ended.
“I know women like to play hard to get, but I have to say, Madison, I’m not impressed.”
I hugged my arms closer, digging my nails in until I broke skin. “I’m not trying to impress you; I’m trying to leave. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“I know you want me.”
“Excuse me?”
His arm darted forward, wrapping around my ass and squeezing, pulling me against him. “You wouldn’t wear these short, sexy dresses if you weren’t trying to get my attention.”
My dresses weren’t even short. I didn’t own a single one that went more than an inch above my kneecaps. Not that it would matter anyway. I could wear a leather mini skirt, and it still wouldn’t mean I was asking to be touched. I dressed to make myself feel pretty, not to please cocky, egocentric men.
His lips coasted over my ear, his breath leaving a damp film in its wake. “You teased me on purpose. You can’t offer dessert on a silver platter and then refuse to share a bite.”
The feel of his tongue gliding up my earlobe was going to haunt me, and my shoulders shot up to block him. My mind splintered, the past and present mixing together into a toxic combination and sending black spots into my vision. I could taste bile. “Let go.”
“Stop lying to yourself, darlin’.”
He smashed his mouth onto mine, ramming his tongue against the seam of my lips trying to force them open. I twisted my head, blindly kicking at his ankles. I wanted to fight, to flail and slap and scratch, but my arms were pinned against me, the papers slicing into the tender skin on the inside of my arms.
He didn’t let up. He groaned, like my fight was everything he’d ever imagined, like I was playing right into his fantasy. He ground against me, the lump in his slacks digging into my inner thigh.
I couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back. I couldn’t even open my mouth to scream without his tongue shoving through. So instead, I did the opposite.
I shut down.
I went to the dark corner of my mind, the one I hadn’t had to escape to in years, and I stopped. I stopped twisting. I stopped fighting. I stopped thinking. I. Just. Stopped.
If there was one harsh truth I’d had forcibly ingrained in my head in my twenty-five years, it was that some men liked their women willing, and some liked them unwilling. But very few liked to grope a boneless shell.
In the safety of my corner, I was curled up in a fetal position, raging and tearing my hair out. But on the outside, I was motionless, my eyes wide open, staring over his shoulder at a spot on the wall. I let him paw at me, refusing to give him the satisfaction of witnessing another second of my emotions.
He increased his attempts at first, each action growing wilder and more desperate than the one before. He squeezed my ass hard enough to bruise, and when that didn’t pull anything from me, he bit my lip.
Only then, when I’d still failed to react, did he pull back. I didn’t avert my eyes from the spot on the wall, and it took everything in me not to wipe at the smears of saliva across my lips and chin.
Keeping my voice as flat and calm as I could manage, I asked, “Is there anything work-related I can help you with?”
His head pulled back another inch, brow creased, and his lips thinned. He released me, dropping his arms at his sides. He stared, his expression tight, and for a moment he looked nervous. But he wiped it away with an arrogant smirk. He raised a hand, wiping his thumb across his mouth.
“Not work-related, no.”
“Then I need to go,” I said, rearranging my armload of bent pages. “Excuse me.”
He stepped to the side, and for one glorious moment I thought he’d actually let me pass without another word, but he snatched my elbow in a firm grip. “Don’t make this into something it wasn’t. No one needs to know what we do in private.”
Was he trying to convince me or himself? If he thought I was running to Jim’s office to report him, he was wrong. Why would I waste my time? I’d verbally complained about Rob to both Evaline and Jim several times, and nothing had ever been done. Rob was just being friendly.
So no, I wouldn’t run to Jim. I was going to walk my butt right back into my own office, sit at my desk, and finish preparing the list I’d promised Evaline.
Only then would I address the issue in a written email, sent directly through the company network. Hopefully, he’d finally take me seriously this time.
I calmly unhooked his fingers from my elbow, knowing I only succeeded because he let me, and walked out of the room. He followed me, stopping at the doorway to my office, watching me.
It didn’t bother me; I was still safely tucked away in my corner. So, I ignored him, pulling my chair up to my desk and going about my job. He said something before he left, but I was no longer listening.
A hurricane was screaming around me, debris crashing at my feet, hair whipping across my eyes, but I sat through it, signing my name on document after document. It was fine.
It’d all be fine.
“Quit.”
“I can’t quit. It’s my main source of income.”
Layla’s string of expletives echoed out of the speakers of my Jeep. “If they don’t fire him before you show back up tomorrow, fucking quit, Mads.”
“He will be.”
“He better.”
I was confident he would. The speed with which Jim arrived at the door of my office before his lunch was even over, beat even what I’d anticipated. My email to him had been short but clear.
Mr. Grayson:
Attached you will find a spreadsheet documenting every interaction that has occurred between myself and Rob Spencer since the first date of my employment. It includes each date, the occurrence in detail, and whether or not I approached yourself or Mrs. Grayson.
The list is up to date, including today’s occurrence. I would like to schedule a meeting at your earliest convenience.
Sincerely,
Madison Hartland
Something else I’d learned in life, between college and abuse, was that written, dated notes were everything.
Our meeting had been brief. Everything that needed to be said was documented in my email. He’d apologized profusely and been adamant that Rob would no longer be welcome at the company. Although I was relieved that he wasn’t trying to blame me, I refused to thank him for taking action only after being forced into it.
Jim wasn’t an awful person, nor was he necessarily a bad employer, overall. He just hadn’t taken my complaints seriously until now. He fell under the long list of people who brushed “harmless” harassment accusations under the proverbial rug. “That’s just how he is” or “He was just flirting.” I wasn’t even angry, only disappointed.
Jim sent me home immediately after, promising to pay me for the rest of the day, and I’d called Layla the moment I started my vehicle.
“Do you want me to come home?”
I turned into my driveway, wanting nothing more than for this day to be over. But hey, glass half full, at least I’d gained a few hours to laze about the house before I needed to pick up Jamie.
“No, enjoy your time with lover boy after work. I’ll probably take a shower and rest.”
“Bish, no you won’t. You’d make it one minute before picking up a damn textbook.”
I laughed, the sound feeling foreign in my husk of a chest. She knew me way too well. “I’m hanging up.”
“Love you, wench.”
I turned off the ignition and stepped out onto the drive, heels dangling from my hand. Something looked different. I tilted my head, examining the house, trying to pinpoint what it was. My brows met my hairline. My yard was mowed, and my fence was…white.
From the day we’d moved in, it’d been almost solid green from the massive amount of pollen that saturated the air each year. The landlord never came out to do anything—hello, broken dishwasher—and I didn’t have the means to do it. I didn’t even own a garden hose.
I allowed my heart to get a little excited. Sure, he was supposed to call before showing up, but if he’d done this, then maybe he’d actually fixed the dishwasher as well. I crossed my fingers, hoping this was a sign that life was going to give me a break.
“Madison?”
My heart plummeted, excitement dying quicker than it’d come, and pure, unfiltered panic filled my chest cavity where it used to reside. It couldn’t be. Not today. Not after everything I just went through. I must have imagined it. Layla joked that my karma was cursed, but even this was pushing it.
“Madison.”
Fuck. I’d know that voice anywhere. I knew how it sounded when it whispered sweet words, how it dropped to a husky tone when he slid his hands across my skin, just as well as I knew how it sounded when it screamed and spit at me.
With my entire soul, I didn’t want to turn around, knowing how much it would hurt to lay eyes on him. I was so emotionally drained from the encounter at work, I couldn’t take another one. I’d splinter the rest of the way open and be stuck on my hands and knees, desperately scooping up the pieces.
But continuing to give him my back, where I couldn’t anticipate his movements, would be worse. I turned, meeting a pair of moss green eyes flecked with gold that had appeared in some of my happiest and worst memories.
I hadn’t set eyes on him in three years, and he looked the same, yet different. His hair was still a beautiful auburn hue, but he’d grown it out from the military cut he’d been required to have back then. It fell in soft waves above his ears, accentuating his eyes.
He’d thinned out, a pale, angular face staring back at me instead of the full, boyish cheeks he used to have. He’d never been what society would consider gorgeous, but there’d been something about him that had pulled me in all those years ago. That’d kept pulling me in, even when it should have pushed me away.
There was no pull left. Nothing but the chill of a tile floor and the throb of invisible bruises. “What are you doing here, Aaron?”
His smile twitched, becoming less relaxed. “You’re ignoring my calls.”
I inhaled and exhaled slowly, clenching the straps of my heels until my nails dug crescent moons into my palms. We were outside, in public. He wouldn’t touch me. “How do you know where I live?”
“Layla gave me your address, although the lack of numbers on the house did make it a little harder to confirm. I had to go through the mail to figure out which one you were in.”
Horror sliced through me. He said it with so much fucking pride, like it showed how devoted he was rather than psychotic. He was the one who’d gone through Garrett’s mail that day; he’d known where I was this entire time.
“You’re lying.”
“Maybe a little bit.” His grin kicked up again, and he moved forward. “She did give it to me, but I may or may not have misled her. She was more than happy to share when she thought I was your thoughtful brother trying to send a surprise gift to his nephew.”
The fucking bastard. Contacting Layla for my address was exactly something my brother would do to avoid a lengthy conversation with our mother. Aaron had always been sneaky; it was his specialty. A sly fox in a fluffy, sheep package.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated.
I wasn’t falling for his flirty looks and words. I had no desire to play whatever game this was, and he must’ve seen it on my face because his smile dropped away entirely. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t. I don’t want you here.”
“Why do you always have to be dramatic? I just want to talk. If you would have answered my phone calls, I wouldn’t have had to come find you.”
“There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear. Please leave.”
“I have a right to talk to you.” He closed more distance between us, stopping only a few feet away. Standing at five foot seven, he didn’t stand over me, but that made it almost worse. I’d never been given the freedom of having someone yell at me from a foot above me. No, he’d done it nose to nose.
He raised his arm—to hug me, grab me, who knew—and I flinched violently, my own arm coming up to cover my face. A sneer ruined his mouth as he dropped his proffered limb. “Don’t fucking do that, Mads, I hate when you do that.”
“I’m pretty sure she asked you to leave.”
Both our heads twisted in sync, looking toward the individual standing on the other side of the driveway.
Aaron’s head whipped back to me, fury darkening his features into something foul and all too familiar. “You want to explain who the fuck that is?”
I didn’t get the chance to reply. It’d taken Garrett less time to reach us than it had for Aaron to finish the accusation he’d threaded in his question.
“It’s time you head out. She’s made herself very clear.”
Aaron’s eyes were boring into me so hard; I’d be lucky if I didn’t wind up with dents in my face. Dropping my eyes to his feet, I wrapped my arms around my body, not even knowing when I’d dropped my shoes. “Please, Aaron. Just leave.”
“No, you’re being ridiculous.”
Warm fingers brushed my arm, resting right above my bent elbow, and my head snapped up. The look Garrett gave me wasn’t far off from the way Aaron was looking at me, and it should have terrified me. But it didn’t.
His touch was gentle, and his anger soothed the creature crouching in the corner of my mind. Because he wasn’t angry at me. He was angry for me.
“Go inside. Make some coffee and put on a pair of those crazy socks you like.”
I nodded dumbly; my focus tied to the thumb gently moving across my skin before he dropped his hand. I turned away, refusing to look back at my ex. I didn’t want to see his expression. I already knew it’d be full of a hatred fueled by his own bitter misery.
I made it as far as opening my front door, still shoe-less, before Aaron finally comprehended I really wasn’t going to talk to him. He broke, lashing out one last time. “Fuck you, Madison!”
Stepping over the threshold, I turned and caught a glimpse of Garrett standing over Aaron, staring down with his fists clenched at his sides. He was speaking, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying before I slammed the door shut.
I moved mechanically, starting a pot of coffee and walking into my bedroom. And it was when I reached back to lower the zipper of my dress that I finally snapped. I tore it off, scratching myself in the process, but I didn’t care.
Tears pooled in my eyes as I wadded the garment up and threw it across the room with an anguished yell. I’d never be able to wear it again after today. I’d paint it in flames if I could.
I threw on a pair of soft shorts and paused, naked from the waist up. Fuck it. I needed the comfort. I grabbed the over-sized hoodie and threw it over my head, the hem reaching past my shorts. I already felt better.
There was something about large, baggy clothing that made me feel safe. Similar to how you felt as a kid when you’d throw a blanket over your head to hide from the imaginary monster in your room. It was like nothing could touch you when you were enveloped in warmth.
Standing in the center of my room, I stared at the small filing cabinet I kept in the corner. I edged toward it, nausea coiling inside my stomach as I opened it and pulled out the well-worn stack of records tucked into the back. The messages, photos, screenshots, and medical reports.
Always. I’d always had to pull them out when I thought of Aaron. Always had to remind myself of what lived deep in his heart, what crawled and prowled under his skin waiting to eat me alive. As I moved to sit on the edge of my bed, I stared at the front page, not moving to flip through them.
For the first time since leaving him, I didn’t feel the need to. And it was the single most freeing moment of my life. I hugged Garrett’s hoodie closer, breathing in the faint scent of him still clinging to it, and chucked the papers in my nightstand.
Moving to my dresser, I opened the top drawer and stared at the bright neon colors. Garrett hadn’t just come to my defense; he’d also somehow known the two things in the entire world that helped me relax: coffee and fuzzy socks. I pulled a pair out, squeezing them in my hand, and a weird sensation bubbled in my chest.
A few minutes later, I was standing in the kitchen, adding creamer to my coffee when a harsh knock sounded against my front door. I froze, my throat drying out. I should’ve known he’d come back. Aaron never gave up when pushed. If anything, it only encouraged him to push back harder.
Gripping my mug how I was, I nearly dropped it in my relief when Garrett’s voice permeated through the wood. “Madison.”
I set the mug on the bar, shuffling over and unlatching the door. Pulling it open, I hid behind it, embarrassed. I knew I’d have to thank him eventually; I just hadn’t realized it’d be right now.
He removed his shoes, never taking his eyes off the side of my face peeking around the edge. “Is it okay that I’m here?”
I nodded, stepping around the door to shut it. “Yes. I made coffee; would you like some?” I watched him set his shoes—and mine—on the floor and wrang my hands, aware I looked even worse than I had that morning. The thought was depressing.
When he didn’t reply, I looked up, worried he was already regretting getting involved in my mess. His eyes were on my exposed legs, and his lips pressed into a flat line as he trailed his gaze up to my face. He cleared his throat. “Is it spiked?”
That drew a laugh from my throat. The man never failed to catch me off guard. “I wish. Liquor is usually above my budget, but after everything that happened today, I might make an exception.” I offered him a tentative smile, walking back to the kitchen.
He cleared his throat a second time, eyes darting away. “Coffee would be great.”
Thankful for something to do, I grabbed a second mug and poured him a large cup. He looked uncomfortable, and I had a feeling it had to do with my choice in clothing and the fact it was his. And why wouldn’t it? I’d practically answered the door looking butt naked underneath his hoodie.
Good job, Madison. Now the neighbor thinks you strut around naked in his clothes. Perfect.
“So, you going to tell me what that was?”
I handed him his coffee, pushing the creamer toward him. “It was nothing. I’m sorry you had to deal with it. I promise I don’t normally have drama.” At least, not anymore.
“I’m going to need you to do better than that. He told me he was your husband.”
He might as well have struck me. “No! I mean, he used to be. But we’ve been divorced for about three years, so I don’t know why he’d tell you that.”
I felt Garrett’s gaze like it was nestling inside my chest, making itself at home and searching for answers. “You said everything that happened today. What else happened?”
“Just something with an asshole guy at work.”
“What do you mean? What’d he do?”
“Decided he was entitled to something he wasn’t.” I flicked my wrist. Rob was definitely not something I wanted to get into right now. “It’s fine; it was taken care of.”
His jaw tightened. He wanted to ask more. So, I did what I did best. I wiped the pained expression from my face, morphed it into something calm, and changed the subject.
“Did you see the landlord when he came out today?”
His brow creased. “No, but I was at work for most of the morning. Why did he come out?”
I took a sip of my coffee, leaning over the counter and sliding my socked feet back and forth across the tile like an ice skater. “I’m honestly not sure. I’ve been sending in fix-it tickets for my dishwasher and patio door, and he’s never shown up.” I shrugged, looking up in time to catch his eyes darting back to my face from wherever they’d been.
“Then how do you know he was here?”
“He cleaned up my fence and yard.”
“Huh.” His expression shuttered, becoming suspiciously neutral.
“I’d thought maybe he’d done it while he was here fixing the dishwasher, but it doesn’t appear so.”
“What’s wrong with your dishwasher?”
I waved my hand. “No idea. I’ve watched a few how-to videos to try to fix it myself, but I always end up staring at it like a deer in headlights.” I laughed.
He set his mostly full mug on the bar. “I’ll take a look at it.”
“No, it’s fine. I wasn’t trying to guilt trip you into looking at it. Ignore me, I tend to ramble sometimes.”
“I don’t mind, I like fixing things.” He shrugged, a hint of a smirk gracing his lips almost faster than I could see, and I suddenly realized what his earlier look had meant.
My mouth felt uncomfortably dry as I asked, “The landlord didn’t stop by, did he?”
He didn’t answer, stepping around the bar and into the kitchen, stopping right in front of me. “Madison.”
I craned my neck back, “Garrett.”
“Let me take a look.”
