Follow Me(73)

“Come on, Nicky,” I said lightly. “You think after all these years that I don’t know you better than you know yourself?”

“Fuck you,” he said, his voice growing loud. “You always want to control everything, including how everyone else behaves. News flash: you can’t fucking curate other people. You can’t just play with us like we’re fucking dolls.”

I sucked in my breath. “Nick, you’re drunk.”

“That doesn’t change shit. And you know the worst part? I still love you even though you’re a manipulative, image-obsessed bitch. I tried to forget you, okay? I dated other women, and then you moved here and fucked me up all over again. Fuck you. I love you. Fuck you.”

“I think you should leave now,” I said, trying to keep my voice from wavering.

“You don’t want to hear it tonight, that’s fine. But, Audrey—”

“No,” I said. “Nick, it’s not like that. Okay? I enjoy spending time with you, but I don’t love you like that. And I’m not going to.”

“You loved me once,” he insisted, shaking his head. “You’ll love me again.”

“Nick, please. Do me a favor. Go home and sleep it off, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”

Nick’s expression turned hard and he sneered, “Sure. Whatever Audrey Miller wants, Audrey Miller gets, right?”

“Nick—”

But he was already slamming my front door.





CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN





AUDREY


Manipulative bitch.

I couldn’t stop obsessing over Nick’s insults. In all the years I’d known him, through all our ups and downs and stupid fights, he had never spoken to me so harshly, not even that Halloween. I wanted to believe that he was just drunk and lashing out, but what if there was more to it? What if that was how Nick really felt about me, deep down?

What if there was a bit of truth to it?

I was still thinking about it the next night as I returned to the apartment. Max had disapproved, insisting that I could work at his place, but I’d needed the quiet and the space. I hadn’t told Max about the incident with Nick—I mean, how would I even begin to explain my complicated relationship with my ex-boyfriend to my new boyfriend?—and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to give him cause to wonder whether I really was a “manipulative bitch.”

I was almost to the building when I suddenly remembered Cat wanted me to join her for trivia. I’d meant to do so, I really had. It didn’t take some sort of mentalist to realize Cat was pissed that I’d brought Max to the engagement party the other week, and so I’d promised myself I would make more time for her. Which I would, but not that night. I absolutely needed to get some work done, and besides, I had zero interest in spending another evening with Cat’s terminally boring friends.

Sorry, Kitty-Cat, I started typing as I neared home. I’ve got a bunch of work to do tonight. I don’t think I’m going to make it. Sorry!!!

Immediately, dots appeared to indicate Cat was typing. They disappeared and then reappeared before finally disappearing once more. No response came. Whatever Cat had planned on saying, she’d decided against it. I felt a smidgen of guilt but brushed it off. If anyone would understand bailing on social engagements to work, Cat would.

Just as I came to the front of my building, I heard a familiar scratching sound coming from the alley. I snapped my head in that direction, fully expecting to see that damn cat sauntering out . . . but also terrified of coming face-to-face with my stalker, whoever he might be. As I stood frozen, I realized that it was more than scratching—it was footsteps, too. Someone was undeniably moving through the alley. I held my breath as the alley gate swung open, and then Ryan came skulking out. His perpetually greasy hair was hidden beneath a bleach-stained baseball cap, and there was something dark smudged across the front of his loose V-neck T-shirt.

He stopped when he saw me staring at him and curled his lips into a predatory grin. “Hello, neighbor.”

“What are you doing in that alley?” I demanded.

“Walking,” he drawled as he continued past me to the stairs. “What’s it to you?”

“I’m barely here anymore,” I said. “So you can stop wasting your time.”

He paused partway up the stairs and turned to me, sucking on his teeth.

“And I loved those flowers,” I continued, hoping to catch him off guard. “Cutting off the heads was a really nice touch.”

He barked in laughter. “What are you on?”

“Just leave me alone,” I muttered.

“Sweet dreams,” he said, still laughing as he let himself into his unit.

I shuddered and continued walking up the path. I reached out to unlock the iron gate outside my door and found that it was standing open.

My stomach crashed to the ground.

“Ryan!” I shouted angrily, but his door was closed.

I looked back at my apartment and noticed that the front door was ajar as well. Fear tickled the back of my brain. I wanted to believe it was just Ryan burglarizing my unit again, but why would he have been sauntering through the alley, empty-handed? I swallowed my rising panic and backed away from the building, not stopping until I was on the other side of the street. I stepped behind a massive tree and called 911. I was tired of feeling unsafe.