A Fresh Start (27 page)

As she said that, a sudden realization dawned upon her.

She stormed into her house and gathered the letters before returning to Justin’s side. With all the letters in one hand, she flung them in Cole’s face. “I knew something was wrong with the letters. That’s because the stalker didn’t write them, you did,” she seethed. She couldn’t remember a time when she was this angry. “Get out of my sight. I don’t ever want to see you again.”

The shock on his face said it all.

There was no surprise or anger at her accusation. He stared at the letters and struggled to form a sentence. “Paige—”

“No. There’s nothing you can say that would excuse your despicable behavior. There’s nothing in the world you can do to get me to take you back. Get that into your thick skull,” Paige said, her finger jabbing forward. “We are over. Next time you show your face here, I’m going to call the police.”

Cole took a step toward her and Justin moved forward, putting himself between them. “Stay. Away. From. Her.”

Paige knew it was probably taking everything in him to stop himself from hitting Cole.

Justin slammed the door close and let go of Paige’s hand to close the curtains.

“Well, I guess the good news is that the stalker hasn’t found me,” Paige said as she returned to the couch. “I can’t believe he did this; he saw what the letters did to me. How could I have been so blind?”

“You’re not blind, just too trusting.”

Paige looked over at Justin and gave him a small smile. “Thanks, for not jumping in when I was dealing with Cole.”

He shrugged it off, not saying anything else.

Andrew would never have allowed her to confront Cole like that. He would’ve stepped in before she could even open her mouth.

She could sense how irate Justin was, but instead of responding to his feelings, he controlled it for her and trusted her to deal with the problem.

“What are you thinking of?” she asked as she noticed his faraway gaze.

“The letters, you’re sure it isn’t from the stalker?”

“Yes,” she answered. “It’s different from those I used to receive. For one, whenever I got a hate mail, there would be one along with it that apologizes for what was written. But today, all of them were hate mails.”

“What if it’s because he’s so angry that you left?”

“Maybe. But every letter I’d received were of the same type of letter and envelope. Even the font in each of the letters was exactly the same. I can’t be a 100% sure, but something doesn’t feel right with the letters I got today. And if he didn’t send them, won’t the natural response be ‘what the hell are you talking about’?”

“True,” Justin agreed.

“Why?”

“If it’s him, at least we know who to watch out for.”

“Well, whoever it is, he hasn’t found me yet. Maybe he won’t ever find me. Maybe he’s moved on to a new target.”

He pressed his lips together, forming a thin line. Then pushed up a corner to form a patronizing smile.

“You don’t think so?”

He turned, angled his legs toward her, and leaned forward. “I won’t let you go. If you were to disappear, I’d go looking for you. Your crazy ex didn’t, and still doesn’t, want to let you go either.”

“I may be wrong, but you sound jealous.”

“Would you like it if I have women knocking on my door every day?”
 

She smiled, she hadn’t thought about it like that. “I don’t have guys knocking my door. Just one who isn’t quite right in his mind.”

“Are you trying to change the topic? Or are you trying to ask me how many women have there been in my life?”

“Tell you what, the next time he’s here, I’ll shoot him. Not at him directly, probably in his general direction. I’m sure he’ll get the point then.”

He laughed, then continued. “And I promise, there won’t be any ex knocking on my door.”

“That’s a difficult promise to keep, unless you have a crystal ball or something.”

“You’ve told me your secret, I’ll tell you mine.”

Paige narrowed her eyes, her brows furrowing slightly.
 

He reached over and gave her forehead a tap with his index finger. “Don’t worry, I’m not crazy. I don’t have a crystal ball,” he teased.
 

“I know that,” she said and waited for him to continue.

He exhaled through his mouth, seemingly considering his words. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Okay,” she replied. That explained why he wouldn’t have any ex looking for him, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

He did introduce her as his girlfriend when they were out house hunting for him, but it probably was just a ruse; an easy explanation for her presence.

“So, I won’t have anyone who would come looking for me,” he added.

Was this his way of saying he wasn’t interested in having a relationship with her?

“Don’t look so sad. I lived my life making sure of that.”

“Why?” she asked.

“It’s tiring to be concerned about another person.”

After all that he’d gone through, he’d the right to feel that way.
 

“What was it like? Living with your mom.”

“Tiring.”

She gave him a thin lip smile; it was the only smile she could muster.

“Are you mad?”

“With?”

“With how I handled relationships, or whatever you like to call them.”

“What do you call things between us?” she blurted.

Might as well put it out there. He was frank enough to tell her that he didn’t do relationships, she might as well tell him that she didn’t do whatever it was he did.

He paused briefly and studied her face. “I think there’s a misunderstanding,” he said. “I’m saying you’re the first person whom I consider my girlfriend.”

Her fingers moved to her lips as she broke into a smile. “Then why did you look so worried when you were telling me about it? And why would I be mad?”

“You tend to feel strongly about helping people. I was afraid you’d think I’m too much of a jerk to continue dating.”

She laughed, leaning forward into his arms. “I don’t know who you were before, but right now, you’re the man I want to be with.”

He lifted her from his chest and kissed her, just as his phone started vibrating.

He pulled out his phone from the pocket and sighed.

“Do you know where she is now?”

“Somewhere, getting drunk. I haven’t seen her since she left.”

Paige’s eyes widened, and she straightened. “She left before you did?”

He nodded as if it was common knowledge.

It probably was, to the rest of the town.

“You lived on your own since then? How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

“You lived alone since you were fifteen?”

“No. My mom signed over her parental rights to the Seymours.”

Her jaw dropped. “I’m sorry.”

Justin shook his head and smiled. “Don’t be, it was actually better. I didn’t have to wake up and search for her around town to make sure she was still alive. I didn’t have to run and check out every crashing noise to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself. And besides, I was staying over at the Seymours half the time anyway.”

Paige didn’t know what to say.

She shouldn’t have asked; she was sure those were memories he didn’t want to remember. That was probably one of the reasons he’d avoided coming back here for ten years.

What a burden he’d carried as a child. Having to become the parent, living in constant fear. “And yet you still rebuilt the house for her.”

“The Seymours gave me a chance for a new life. I thought I could give her that chance, too.”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to come back here because of the memories?”

“I offered to buy her a house anywhere she chooses. All she had to do was to get and stay sober. She didn’t want it. I guess a small part of me had hoped she’d just come home to see the new place. I’ve been asking the Seymours to move in so that I can rebuild their house, but they simply refuse, saying their house is fine the way it is.” He tilted his head and frowned. “What’s with the smile?”

“What smile?”

“The I-know-something-that-you-don’t smile.”

She chuckled softly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“There. There it is again.”

“I was just thinking…that though you claim not to care about people, you actually do. You clearly care about your mom and the Seymours. You care about Travis enough to spend time working on my house without getting paid.”

“But I did get the girl.” He winked. “I thought it was a pretty good deal.”

She grinned. “You cared enough to offer Jane a shirt when everyone else was laughing at her.”

His brows raised. “She told you that? That was so long ago.”

“You care enough about me to teach me how to shoot and to make me feel safe in my own house.”

“My mom wasn’t all that bad when she wasn’t drinking. The Seymours basically brought me up. Travis and Amy were the only friends I had in town, and Jane, well, I felt bad for her. But
you
, you’re an abnormality.” He shifted closer toward her. “Tell me, Miss Watson, what kind of spell have you woven over me?”

Paige’s eyes flew opened as she lay in bed. The ringing of the motion sensor alarm still reverberating in her mind. She turned to her side and looked at her digital alarm clock, glowing in the darkness of her room.
 

2:47 a.m.

She pressed her palm against half of her face and pushed her hair back. She didn’t have to guess who it was.
 

Her hand reached over to her nightstand and took the gun before pushing herself off the bed.

Even before she got downstairs, the pounding and ringing of the doorbell began.

She took in a deep breath, calmed herself, then tightened the grip on her gun as she stepped off the flight of stairs and moved toward the door.

“Paige!”

She rolled her eyes as she tucked the gun into the back of her pajamas, leaving the handle hanging out, and switched off the alarm before opening the door.

The stench of alcohol hit her the moment the door was opened. She cringed and turned her face away.

The idea of dealing with Cole was repulsive enough without the alcohol. “Go home, Cole. There’s nothing here for you.” She tried to close the door, but Cole stuck his feet in between the door and the frame.

“I’m sorry, Paige. I’m sorry for what I did,” he pleaded. “I never meant to hurt you. I can’t lose you.”

Those words by themselves would’ve sounded like a repentant man, but it wasn’t—not when the words were ripped off from her stalker’s apology letters.

“You’re sick. Get some help.” She asserted pressure on the door, hoping the pain would make Cole pull his feet out.

"No, the problem here is that you're an ungrateful whore!" He shoved hard against the door, causing it to ram against her shoulder.

She gasped and staggered back.

Stabling herself, she reached over to her left shoulder, kneading it.

But Cole wasn't done.

Paige didn't know if it was the adrenaline, the pure insanity running loose in Cole, or if the chain lock on her door was weak. Whatever it was, with another rough shove, the chain broke off from the lock and the door flew right open.

Cole didn't give her any chance to react. He lunged toward her. Her arms flew up in defense as she got pinned against the wall.

She screamed and struggled against his grasp on her wrist. The impact was extremely painful on her lower back.

The pain, however, reminded her of the vital object she’d forgotten in the midst of what was going on.

Cole leaned in close, so close that she could smell the alcohol reeking through his breath.

He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "You're mine. No matter what." He leaned, trying to press his lips onto hers.

Paige bit down on her lips and snapped her head away from him, pressing the side of her face against the wall.

He clearly didn't care if she wanted his kiss. He pressed his lips against her cheek and began moving down her neck. She screamed, kicking her legs about.

“Ugh!” He reeled from her.

Amid the darkness, she didn’t know what was going on. She pulled out her gun and fired two shots in the general direction. She didn’t care if she hit him.

Turning to the door, she bolted out, dashing across the small grass patch toward the Seymours.
 

The door opened before she was barely out of the house. Mr. Seymour stepped out with his rifle in hand while Mrs. Seymour stood behind him, her arms opened, gesturing for Paige to move over toward her.

She ran past Mr. Seymour and heard the distinctive double clicks of his rifle as he cocked his gun.

She flinched when the rifle fired, but she kept running until she was next to Mrs. Seymour. The distance between the two houses never seemed farther.

“It’s all right, Paige. It’s all right.” Mrs. Seymour slowly reached for her gun and took it from her shivering hands. “Let’s get inside.”
 

Mrs. Seymour wrapped her arm over her shoulders and half dragged her into the house.

She jumped when another shot went off.

“It’s okay, it’s just Victor.”

Paige crossed her arms and pulled them close against her chest. She couldn’t get rid of the chill running across the surface of her skin.

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” Mrs. Seymour sat her down on the couch.

She closed her eyes. “He tried, but no. How did you know he was at my house?”

“I heard him shouting your name.”

“He’s gone.” Mr. Seymour came in and placed his gun down beside the door.

“Did you hit him? Did I?”

“I couldn’t see clearly,” he said. “But I don’t think so.”

She buried her face in her hands. “This has to stop. It’s getting out of hand.”

Mrs. Seymour sat beside her, rubbing her back.

“Paige.”

Lifting her head, she gave Justin a wry smile as he got down on one knee right in front of her.
 

He cradled her face in his hands. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He scrutinized her expression for a moment before reaching for her hand. He looked down and his eyes widened when he saw her wrist.