Never Let You Go(28)

I collect my receipt and tuck it and the cash inside my purse and turn around.

I see him standing by the corner of the bank. He’s putting money into his wallet, sliding it into his back pocket. He looks different with short hair and a beard, but the way he moves is so familiar, the shape of his head, the shrug of his wide shoulders.

The cement walls of the bank are rushing toward me as though there are only inches standing between me and Andrew. I can smell his skin, his soap, see the edge of his mouth, the way it turns up. Sophie’s smile. He’s going to see me, then he’s going to say my name with that tone that sounds loving and angry and scolding and disappointed all at once.

Run.

Legs. I have to move my legs. Some internal force spins me around. Too fast, I drop my keys. It seems as though they fall in slow motion, hitting the sidewalk with a metallic clang that echoes across the pavement. I lurch downward, clutch at my keys, and rise.

“Lindsey.” He’s moving forward, walking toward me. The distance narrows.

“Get away from me.” I stand straight, holding my keys out in my hand like some sort of sword. They’re nothing. Just tiny pieces of metal.

He stops with his palms in the air. “I was in the bank. I didn’t know you were outside.”

“Why are you here?” It doesn’t matter. I know why he’s here. I need to walk away, but my feet are rocks. I look around, hoping for people, for safety in numbers, but it’s as though the earth has opened and sucked everyone down. Not a car on the street, not one pedestrian.

“The construction company I’m working for got a new subdivision contract in Dogwood Bay. I was looking around at some places to rent.”

No. He knew we lived here. He planned this.

“I don’t want you living here.” I hate that my voice is trembling, hate how weak I feel. I want to sound powerful and authoritative, but I sound like a pleading child.

“I understand that, but I have to go where the work is. Times are tough.” Times have never been tough for him. I’m glad he’s talking. He’s making me angrier.

“You can’t see Sophie.”

“She’s eighteen next month.”

“She doesn’t want anything to do with you.” But he’s right. She’s almost of age. I can’t stop this. I can’t do anything.

“She doesn’t know me anymore.”

“I want it to stay that way. She’s a good kid. Don’t mess her life up.”

“I’ve changed, Lindsey. I’m not the same person you married. I got counseling in prison, and I go to AA now—I haven’t touched a drop in eleven years.”

I wish I could thrust the keys into his eyes and keep stabbing until he can’t look at me anymore. “I don’t believe you’ve changed for one minute.”

“Let’s not do this on the street. Can I buy you a coffee?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I shouldn’t be shocked that he actually thinks I’d want to sit and have a coffee with him, but his ability to ignore reality is truly terrifying. It’s like in his mind we’re old friends. I turn away.

“Lindsey!” he calls out, but I keep walking. Then, his voice lowering an octave but loud enough for me to hear, he says, “I know what you did. I know you drugged me that night.”

The words slam into my back and nearly knock me off my feet. I falter, the sidewalk looming in front of my eyes. I think I might faint, blink away the panic. No, no, keep going.

I make my legs move, glance over my shoulder. He’s still watching. My car is parked on the street, which means he now knows I drive a blue Mazda. My hands are shaking as I try to fit the key into the lock. I stare down at them, force my fingers to get their shit together and get me in the car now. My anger helps, makes me feel stronger. I get in and drive away as fast as I can.



I’m ten minutes late, but Marcus still opens the door with a smile. “I was starting to wonder about you,” he says. “Thought maybe you decided to stop at Dairy Queen.”

I know it’s a joke—he’s teased me ever since the time I showed up with a Blizzard for each of us—but I can’t make myself laugh today. “I’m sorry. Hope I haven’t messed up your schedule.”

“Nah. I was running late myself.” Marcus is never late for anything. He’s just saying it to put me at ease. He widens the door and I follow him inside and collapse into one of his chairs.

“I saw Andrew in town. He was at the bank.” It’s so hard to say the words, to admit what just happened. My voice is breathless as though I’ve sprinted up a flight of stairs.

“He’s following you?” He sinks down into the chair across from me, his dark eyebrows pulled together in an angry frown.

“He says he’s moving here because of work, but that’s bullshit. He wanted me to know he’s changed.” I give a bitter laugh. “He hasn’t changed one bit.” I wish I could tell Marcus everything—about the pills, what Andrew said—but I have to keep the terrifying truth to myself.

“Jesus, Lindsey.” Marcus leans forward, grips my knee. “I’m really sorry.” It’s the first time he’s touched me, outside of when we’re training, and his hand feels solid, comforting.

“I called the cop. She says Andrew claims he was working the morning someone broke into my client’s house. I know he’s lying, but they don’t have enough reason to check into it more, or any crime they can charge him with. They’re not going to waste their time.”