Written in Ink (Montgomery Ink #4)(57)

“The lines are blurring, Autumn. But it’s not safe for you to be out there.”

“If it’s not safe, then I can run again. I don’t need to be here.” Here where it hurt. She loved him. Loved. Him. And yet she couldn’t say anything. The man hadn’t wanted her in his life to begin with, and now he was acting as if she were something he was forced to deal with.

She pushed past him, not wanting him to see her cry.

“Autumn. Fuck. I didn’t mean what I said. I’m just stressed over this book and shit. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” He followed her as she made her way to his room.

His room.

Not hers.

Nothing was ever hers. And she had a feeling she’d never have something just hers again. She started packing, throwing things back into her emergency bag. It didn’t take long, as she hadn’t felt comfortable enough to fully settle in. Griffin and her past had made sure of that.

“Autumn…I overreacted.” He ran a hand through his hair. Last week, she would have melted at the way his arm bunched, but she hated it just then. It just reminded her of all she couldn’t have. “You don’t have to go. We can make things the way they were.”

She noticed he hadn’t said that he wanted her there.

Just that she didn’t have to go.

“It’s not working for me anymore,” she said woodenly. “I need to go home. Need to be independent. You wanted me to go to the police, and I did. They will take care of me.” She didn’t quite believe that, but staying with Griffin wouldn’t work. Her heart was already close to breaking; she didn’t need to shatter it.

She’d handle herself as always and run if she had to. She couldn’t risk the Montgomerys more than she already had.

Griffin reached out for her, and she sidestepped him. “Thank you for letting me stay here while I caught my breath. You are close to the end of the book and have been doing well on your own. Your house is clean other than the kitchen at the moment, but I’m sure you can handle that. You should be good.”

He gripped her arm, but she pulled away. “Autumn. Stay.”

“I can’t.” Her voice broke and she pressed her lips together as she ran to her car. She kept her senses on alert in case Mr. Sanders was around, but she didn’t feel him, didn’t see him.

She threw her bag into her car and pulled out of the driveway as fast as she could.

Griffin stood in the doorway, his clothes covered in flour and his jaw set.

He didn’t come after her. Didn’t put up a hand or call her name. He just stood there. Watching her go.

She didn’t cry, though it was hard not to. She needed to keep her senses on alert. Just because the officers had told her that there was no one near her home and that she should be safe, her place hadn’t been safe before. It was stupid that she was going back in the first place, but damn it, she had no idea what she was doing. She’d reacted in the heat of the moment, afraid for her heart, too busy worrying about that to think and the complications that came from it.

What she should do was get on the open road and leave, but she’d told the officers at the station that she would stay put at least for the moment—no matter what she’d told Griffin when she was yelling.

She pulled into her place and got out of the car, her bag in her hand. She couldn’t see or feel anyone around other than her neighbors, who didn’t even bother to look at her. It wasn’t the best place, after all.

She’d call it hers, but even then, she couldn’t think of it as such.

She opened the door with her new key. Wes and Storm had changed all her locks, and the others had helped her paint the inside again, making it ready for her landlord if and when she moved out. The smell of fresh paint filled her nostrils and she frowned.

It should have been dry by then.

The one word painted in blood-red on the wall made her freeze. Her hand tightened around her pepper spray.

MINE.

She turned toward the door, ready to run, but it was too late.

“Hannah.”

She opened her mouth to scream, to call for help, for Griffin, for anyone, but she wasn’t fast enough. He had his hand around her throat and something knocked into her head.

Darkness filled her vision, and she knew this would be the end.

All of that running, all of that fear…and it wasn’t enough.

She’d been stupid, had fallen for man and let it take over her brain.

This would be the end.

****

Griffin could have kicked his own ass. He’d gotten angry over his own goddamn feelings and thoughts and had taken it out on Autumn. With all the shit she’d had to go through in her life, she hadn’t needed to deal with his attitude. Because he got scared, because he got angry, he’d lost her.

He’d seen her in his kitchen like she belonged there, thought of her in his life when he wasn’t ready, and he got scared. She was doing her f*cking job, and it wasn’t like her being there was unexpected. Instead of handling things like a mature adult, he’d yelled.

They must have looked like two nutcases, standing in the kitchen yelling at each other with flour coating their bodies.

It wasn’t her fault he’d blown up.

And it wasn’t her fault she’d run from him when he’d acted like he didn’t want her. Hell, he’d been acting like that all week. So scared to have her in his life, he’d lost her anyway.