Rebound (Seattle Steelheads #1)(18)

To me, Logan’s partner had calmly said, “If he comes near you or makes contact, call the police. Either us, or the local PD wherever you are at the time.”

Bile burned the back of my throat. The police. God. Had we really reached this point? Where just talking to each other meant we had to get the cops involved?

My mind went straight to the cop who’d been there last night, and a whole new breed of apprehension turned in my stomach. I knew “call the police” meant “call the police who can actually respond and do something,” but was it weird that I wanted to call one officer in particular?

Another message jarred me out of my thoughts.

You still at practice? Practice is at the stadium this week, right? I’m at Cindy’s right now.

My heart stopped. Nathan’s sister lived about a mile from the stadium. Traffic permitting, he could be here in a matter of minutes.

I looked around the locker room, making sure I was alone. This was a secure area. Nathan couldn’t get in here. Not even when we were on good terms. Once I left, though…

After some second, third, and fifteenth thoughts, I called Geoff.

“Hey,” he said when he picked up. “Everything all right?”

“Um…” I swallowed.

“Asher?” His voice instantly went from friendly to concerned. “What’s going on?”

The phone vibrated, and a quiet beep let me know another call was trying to come through. Squeezing my eyes shut, I said. “It’s Nathan.”

“Yeah, I figured. Are you someplace safe?”

My eyes flew open again, and I looked around the locker room again. This area was only accessible to staff and players. So was our reserved parking area, but Nathan knew where that let out on to the street, and my car—I’d driven the red Vette today because the Ferrari was still being fixed—wasn’t exactly conspicuous. “I’m at the stadium. Just about to head home.”

“Okay. Has he threatened you? Shown up?”

“He keeps texting me and trying to call, and…” I shuddered hard. “I haven’t responded, but I think he might show up at the house. Or here.”

“Has he threatened to?”

“No.” I suddenly felt stupid and small. Like I was overreacting to some chest-puffing texts. “He hasn’t. But he said he wants to come over. And I fucking bailed on taking out that restraining order, so—” The phone beeped again. A double beep that meant Nathan had left a voice message.

Voice calm and low, Geoff said, “Do you want me to come by when you get home?”

I winced. Part of me wanted to insist that I’d be all right on my own, but I knew—and I was pretty sure Geoff knew—that I was nowhere near fine, especially on my own. “I can call Mercer PD if it’s too much trouble. I—”

“That wasn’t my question.” Still calm. Still smooth. “Do you want me to come by?”

Yes. Yes, I so do.

I took a deep breath, ready to insist I was fine and hope he heard the truth anyway, but then there was another beep. Another incoming call. Fuck my life. Nathan was not giving up.

“Yes,” I blurted out. “Please do.”

“Okay. You said you’re at the stadium now?”

“Yeah. I’m just about to leave.”

“Is it safe for you to stay there a bit longer? Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Um.” I glanced around the deserted locker room for the hundredth time. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay. Sit tight. I’ll meet you outside and follow you home.”

I exhaled so hard the world actually spun. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

*

Almost thirty minutes after we’d hung up, I pulled out of the stadium’s garage, this time using the northeast exit instead of the southwest one I usually used. Nathan wasn’t waiting for me—Geoff was, parked beside the exit in his steel gray sedan. Still in his uniform, I thought. He gave me a wave, I returned it, and we headed into the thick evening commute.

Seattle traffic being what it was, it took us almost an hour to get out of downtown Seattle, across the I-90 bridge, and to my place on Mercer Island. When we pulled down my curving driveway, I was relieved as hell not to see Nathan’s car parked out front. It wouldn’t be hiding in the garage, either—I’d changed the code this morning, and had his remote deactivated. The locksmith had been by this morning too, so Nathan wouldn’t be waiting inside the house unless he’d broken in, and the alarm system would have had Mercer Island PD here already.

So far, so good.

I parked in the garage and had Geoff take the empty bay that had been Nathan’s. I didn’t want to risk Nathan channeling his anger into Geoff’s car. The fucker had done enough damage to my Ferrari. That car wasn’t even out of the damn shop yet; thank God I still had the Audi.

With vehicles safely tucked away, I let us into the house. On the way into the kitchen, I asked, “Coffee?”

“I don’t think any cop will ever say no to free coffee.”

I laughed, which felt damn good after today. “Is this the part where I make some joke about being out of doughnuts?”

“Hey, fuck you.” There was no venom behind it, though. As I started making coffee, he leaned against the kitchen island, arms folded loosely across his uniform shirt. “And trust me, I’ve heard all the doughnut jokes.”