Marry Screw Kill(87)

Sin yawns into the phone. “Tired?” I ask.

“The class work overwhelms me at times. I’m getting maybe four hours of sleep at night. But you know what? I love it.” There’s excitement in his voice.

“Because you’re doing what you were called to do,” I encourage him.

“I am,” he agrees. “I need to run. Call you tonight on my way home?”

“Sure, can’t wait to hear about all the grossness,” I tease.

“Love you, babe.”

“Love you, too, Sin.”

And I do, more than anything else in this whole wide world.

After our call, I work on writing a poem until the couple leaves. With my muses gone, I decide to lie back on the quilt with my backpack under my head. I stare up at the tree above me and notice a bird on a branch. His beak is open as he sings out a song. I wonder if he’s calling to one of his lady friends.

I close my eyes and continue listening to him. Sleepiness creeps over me as I relax to the bird’s peaceful melody. I find myself drifting in the summer breeze and I don’t fight it.

***

A car horn startles me awake from my blissful nap. I blink my eyes to clear the blurry sleep from them. Looking to my side, a pair of familiar blue eyes stare at me. My heart begins to race. I blink hard several times and nothing changes.

James.

“What are you doing here?” In a flash, I’m up, resting on my elbows. He hovers over me like he did the first night we met.

He sits cross-legged, nearly touching my side. Resting each elbow on a knee, he steeples his fingers under his chin and looks down, assessing me.

“Hello, Harlow,” he says with a smile that leaves my blood cold—a knowing one that scares the f*cking daylights out of me.

Panic washes over me, though I’m in a public place. I scan the area and see a mother with her child nearby, but it’s little comfort.

“I’ve missed you.” James moves closer, his knees inching into my side. He reaches out to touch me, but I flinch away. Now I’m seated facing him, more on his eye level.

I tuck my shaking hands into my pockets and try to center myself with two deep breaths. He shakes his head and adds a tsk, tsk.

“Why are you so nervous around me? You know I love you.” His pupils are unusually large and dark for such a bright and sunny day. Don’t freak out, I repeat, over and over again in my head.

“How did you find me?” I ask, and then it hits me. My mother’s letter. It was opened when I found it. I’m sure he recorded the address. “Her letter?”

“Very perceptive of you, beautiful.” He rustles with something in his pocket and brings out the tennis bracelet I sold, twirling it around his index finger. My stomach revolts and I taste bile in my mouth.

“You’re not supposed to be here. You have an agreement with Sin.” I glance to my sides and prepare to run. To where, I’m not sure, but I have to get somewhere safe.

“I came to apologize.” He stands tall, making me feel like a small child below him. “It’s part of my twelve-step program. Making amends.”

He continues to spin the bracelet and my stomach turns with each revolution. “Then I’ll take you back to Rochester. My car is parked over there.” He points to the all-too-familiar Mercedes.

“It’s over, James.” I grab my backpack, stand up, and tug on the quilt until James steps off it. I gather it in my arms, ready to flee. I shift my eyes side-to-side, and plan my escape.

“It’s not over. I’ve changed.” He walks two steps toward me and I take two steps back. “I’ll let you hang out with Emma and go back to school.”

Oh my God. His delusional mind believes I’ll go back to him. I can’t give him any room to believe it might be otherwise. I start walking away, toward the Pickwick Theater. I’m so freaked out, I can’t even remember where my car is parked.

“You lied to me. Repeatedly.” I stop in my tracks with James walking beside me. “You knew me before we met. Stalked me.”

“It’s not like that.” James looks surprised by my tone and confrontation. I am not the same vulnerable Harlow he met after my mother was murdered. I stand up to him without a thought. Therapy and love does that to a person.

“You bought nursing classes for my mother. Were you with her, too?” I sling my backpack over my shoulders.

“I helped her to help you.” He manipulated everyone to get what he wanted—me. I have no reason to believe him, so I turn and continue toward the theater.

“You are sick, James,” I yell over my shoulder. I will not let him control me. Never again.

I remember where my car is parked and head toward it, praying I make it without a problem. I consider yelling “rape” or “fire” to get help from the busy passersby.

“Who says I’m sick? Sin?” James hisses, grabbing hold of my arm as I get closer to my vehicle. His fingers grip me to the point of pain. I see my car in the distance and hope I can make it there.

“Let go of me, James.” I jerk my arm out of his hold and run. I only need to cross the street to make it to my car. I hit the asphalt and dash forward.

“Harlow,” James calls. He’s so close, it’s like he’s whispering in my ear.

I feel the steely grip of his fingers again as he pulls me to a stop in the middle of the street. The screeching sound of brakes makes me turn my head. A large dump truck barrels toward us with his horn blaring. He doesn’t have time to stop. I am about to die.