It wasn’t Mark this time, but John. He held my masquerade mask, red feathers falling from it and coating the floor. There were thousands of them, growing higher and higher, until they started to cover my face.
I breathed one in and started to choke. Just like Mark wrapping the tie around my neck, I couldn’t breathe. I clawed at my throat but the air wouldn’t come.
Breathe!
I jerked away, doubled over with my hands on my neck. I fumbled for the lamp beside the bed, only to have a glass of water crash to the floor. Gasping, I pulled in a sharp breath of air and scrambled from the bed, confused. Lost.
A light appeared in the doorway, the shadow of a figure moving in my direction.
“No!” I threw my hands up, warding off the blow I knew was coming. “Please, don’t. Mark—”
“Charlotte.”
Hands gripped my shoulders, and I screamed. “No!”
I scrambled across the floor, trying to get away. Barely aware of the shards of glass under my feet. The rug burned my knees as I crawled to the window, cowering next to the curtains, light from the hallway blinding me.
“Charlotte,” he said again. “I’m not Mark.”
I blinked. John? No, that was just a dream. And the feathers…also a dream.
“That’s right,” Finn said. He stretched to the bottom of the bed to grab one of the robes. “It’s Finn. We’re in the hotel, remember?”
I stared at him dumbly for a long moment. When he wrapped the robe around me, I clung to it, shivering. “You weren’t…you weren’t here.”
“I had to make a phone call. Sorry.”
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Still early. Shit, your feet. Charlotte…” He stood, glancing around like he was trying to figure out what to do. “We need to go to the bathroom.”
“Okay.”
I moved to get up, but Finn was already scooping me into his arms and carrying me to the large bathroom. I could see just a sliver of light coming through the curtains as he walked away from the broken glass on the floor.
He set me on the lid of the toilet. “Stay here just a minute.”
“Okay.”
He left the bathroom and I slid my arms into the sleeves of the robe, tugging it closed around me. The bathroom was freezing and I stared at the tub, wishing I was surrounded by steaming water. Far away from here.
Finn returned with a wash cloth and another glass of water. He set a few aspirin next to them on the counter. “It’s for your feet but I bet you have a headache, too.”
The throbbing in my head barely bothered me over the ache in my feet and the lingering dream. They were enough to overshadow the effects of all the tequila I’d drunk last night.
“I called for some bandages,” Finn said, eyeing my feet. “They’ll be up in a few minutes.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He dampened the cloth, wrapped it around my right foot, the worst of the two, and narrowed his eyes on my face. “You’re worrying me here. Can you say something else?”
I gave a small smile. “Something else.”
He blew out a breath. “Well, that’s better than ‘okay.’ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to leave. I—”
“Had to make a call. Yeah. Must have been important.”
He grimaced. “Actually, it’s bound to get us into another argument so let’s focus on your feet first.”
“They’re fine.” There was barely any blood on my left foot and the right just had a cut on the heel and one near my small toe. “A Band-Aid will be fine.”
Finn sighed. “Can I look first, please?”
I held up my foot, obliging him. He dabbed it with the cloth.
“Looks like my toe is going to have to come off,” I joked.
“Funny,” he said, though he was clearly unamused. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t need stitches.”
“Will I live?”
The question must have hit too close to home because he stood again and nudged the glass of water in my direction. “Take these—they’ll help.”
“Finn.” I gulped the water and the pills and then grabbed his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“You thought I was Mark,” he said, a haunted look in his eyes. “You thought I was going to hurt you.”
“Not you—Mark. Finn. Please. It was a dream. I woke up and didn’t know where I was. You weren’t there and I thought…I don’t know. I thought I was back in Mark’s house, I guess.”
A knock sounded at the door. Finn turned. “I’ll be back.”
He left, and I rubbed my hands over my face. I was still groggy from sleep. I probably needed several more hours but I didn’t want to lay down again. I wanted to be through with this. I wanted to be somewhere else. I wanted to feel whole and rested, and then kick this in the ass.
Finn returned with a red first aid kit. He set it on the counter, intent on his task.
“Maybe you should talk to someone,” he said, sorting through gauze. “A professional. They could help you through…all this. Maybe give you something to help you sleep.”
“I don’t need—” I broke off. “Okay, something to help me sleep might be good. But my dreams aren’t that frequent. Just—”
“When I’m around,” Finn concluded.
“No.”
He lifted his gaze, meeting my eyes long enough for me to see the argument in them. He was right. I had the dreams when he was in the same bed. Or nearby.
“I’ve…I told Paige. And Leslie. Everything. And I’m talking to you,” I said. “I think that was a good start. A kind of therapy on its own.”
He nodded, holding out his hand for my foot. “It is a good start.”
“It was probably just—you know, stress. After what happened yesterday. And last night.”
He bandaged the cut on my heel, his eyes unreadable.
“Finn,” I whispered. “Say something.”
“You’re not going to like what I have to say. And I really need to know what’s going to work for you. What’s going to help get you past this.”
“You,” I said. “You’re helping me get past this. I need to…face it head on. If I talked to John—”
He stood abruptly, the first aid kit falling on the ground and making me wince. “I’m not going to agree to that.”
“Finn—”
“Damn it, Charlotte.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to fight about this. I want to get you out of here. Somewhere safe.”
“Okay,” I said.
His eyes flashed to my face. “What?”
“You heard me. I’ll go. If you want to go to the cabin, or wherever, let’s go.”
His jaw shifted. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. As long as you’re with me and you’re willing to talk about a solution. I want this to be over. So, we leave, take some time. Regroup. And then we get this dealt with.”
“We’ll talk about getting this dealt with,” he said, still cautious. “Talk. Not rush into anything—especially not talking with John.”
I took his hand. “Okay.”
“I still don’t believe you.”
I stood, pressing my lips to his. “Believe this. I trust you and I know you want what’s best for me.”
“Good.” He nodded, looking around the room like he already had a plan. “Good,” he said again, taking my hand. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
We tied up loose ends at work but it made me feel guilty to tell Tucker I wasn’t going to be in for the rest of the week and I’d be out of town for the weekend. As much as I didn’t like it, I was supposed to meet with Tracy about her leasing the last space in the Entertainment Community. It was a good thing, despite the history between Tracy and Finn. I had a list of other things to do as well but Finn was adamant that we leave today so I had to put it all off until next Monday.
Curtis walked back to Housing with us, quiet in the background until we reached the elevators.
Finn squeezed my hand. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay down here.”
“So you can pack up my stuff? Or Curtis?” I smiled at them. “Sorry, but a girl’s gotta pack her own bags.”
Finn’s smile was strained. He rubbed a hand in the middle of his forehead like he was getting a headache. “It’s a really bad idea.”
“Then you go to your place and pack and I’ll go to mine and we’ll be out of here faster,” I reasoned.
“No, I’m going with you.” He sighed, glancing at Curtis. Curtis’s nod was brief. “All right, let’s do this fast.”
We rode the elevator to the tenth floor in silence. I didn’t say anything until we stepped out.
“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked Finn.
He looked at me passively. “What do you mean?”
“I saw that look you gave each other. What aren’t you telling me?”
Curtis was always so good at easing into the background but this time I turned abruptly to him. “There was something in there, wasn’t there?”
“Ms. Evans,” he said.
“That means yes.” I nodded when his eyes flickered with surprise. “You always call me Ms. Evans when you’re trying to reason with me. Or when you don’t want to tell me something and you’re trying to avoid it. Or—”
“Charlotte,” Finn said, frowning.
“What?” I asked. “It’s true. And I’m betting he’s not saying anything because you asked him not to.”
Finn sighed, pacing away a few steps and then back.
“She’s very astute,” Curtis said, making me smile and Finn roll his eyes.
“And I’m still standing here, waiting for the truth.”
When neither of them said anything, I stalked toward my apartment, pulling out my key card. Finn’s hand closed over mine.
“You have a new one now,” he said, producing another card and passing it over.
I snatched it from his hand. “What happened to the whole truth?”
His jaw hardened. “What happened to the less you know the better? I always thought that was a good motto.”
“Except you’re the one deciding what I should know.”
I pushed open the door, almost expecting to see something waiting for me. Yellow rose petals on the floor, maybe, or another note. But it looked like my apartment. Simple. Quiet.
But that didn’t mean no one else had been in here.
“Charlotte,” Finn said.
I ignored him and walked straight to my bedroom to pack. But my feet froze in the doorway. The room itself looked the same. The bed was made with a few pillows askew because I’d been in a hurry. Very few knick-knacks or pictures. Everything set just where it was supposed to go.
But it smelled different than the rest of the apartment.
Roses.
“He put them in here, too,” I said.
When I turned around, I was surprised to find both Finn and Curtis standing there.
Curtis nodded. “You were right. He was in here, too.”
Finn’s expression didn’t change. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and let Curtis continue.
“He left yellow rose petals.”
“On the bed,” I said, forcing myself to walk into the room.
It was my place—he shouldn’t have been in here. I used to feel comfortable in here. It had felt right—mine—from the beginning. And now…I felt better at Finn’s place.
I wasn’t sure if it was because it seemed safer, because Finn was there, or just because I was getting used to it.
Finn walked to my side and touched my elbow. “Where’s your bag? I’ll help you.”
I looked past him to Curtis. “What did the note say?”
He lifted his eyebrows and glanced to Finn.
“It’s my apartment, my life, my problem. I can handle this,” I told him, keeping my gaze steady. “What did the note say?”
“It said, ‘I wish I were there with you’.”
Finn’s chin dropped. He stared at his shoes, breathing quietly as I processed the information.
“So, he prepared for both scenarios,” I said. “Me coming here or me going there. And he probably wasn’t happy that I picked there. Paige—”
“Is coming with us,” Finn said. “She’ll be okay for now.”
“For now,” I murmured, looking at Curtis again. “Do you think we should talk to him?”
“We don’t even know where John is,” Finn said, his voice hard. “Let’s get you packed.”
I walked to the closet and grabbed my bag, tossing it on the bed. “I want to know,” I said to Curtis. “What if we leave, nothing happens but he gets more upset, or Mark gets in contact with him…and then something does happen? Like, someone gets hurt?”
Finn went for my dresser, opening the top drawer and stopping when he saw my underwear and bras. I didn’t know if he was thinking about John being in there or he just wasn’t sure what to pack but he turned away. “This isn’t right.”
“Then stop for a minute,” I said. “Curtis. Do you think it would be better for me to contact him? I could talk to him—”
“He’s not in a reasonable frame of mind,” Finn said. “He’s sending you notes, breaking into your apartment. You think he’s going to sit down for coffee?”
“Yes!” I blurted out, tapping my finger against my lip in thought. “Or maybe not coffee, but—listen, we don’t know where he is. He’s obviously not going to answer a phone call by either one of you, and that’s if he even has his old number. I imagine he’s been smart enough to ditch anything that could get him caught. Even emailing me—he’d probably make up a new email address each time, right? But what if I emailed him back, asked him to talk?”
Finn shook his head, walking to the window to stare out at the scenery. He mumbled something under his breath, but I ignored it.
“I could ask him about Mark,” I told Curtis. “Maybe it would help catch him—or stop him, I guess, since we already know where he is.”
Curtis pocketed his hands. “The issue with Mark is that we have nothing against him. He called you a few times, that’s it—and from numbers we can’t trace back to him. Everything else has been done through John, which is probably what he intended. Someone else to take the fall if things didn’t go the way he planned.”
“So, it would just be my word against his,” I whispered, dropping to the bed as the realization hit me. “Or John’s word against his—but he’s not credible considering he’s doing the same thing.”
Finn turned around, another silent conversation passing between him and Curtis. After a moment, Curtis left the room and Finn walked to the bed to kneel in front of me.
“There are a lot of components here we’re not equipped to handle. Powell and the police know what they’re doing—so we should let them do their job.”
“But he’s right. I’ve got nothing. I could talk to John but it might not get us anywhere. And there’s nothing I can do about Mark. I don’t have any evidence, now or then, that he’s done anything at all. He could just show up here one day and there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“He shows up here and he’s a dead man,” Finn growled, eyes blazing.
“Don’t. Don’t say that. You can’t do anything. Not—”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want. He put his fucking hands on you. He hurt you and there’s no way he’s going to get close enough to try again. That piece of shit tries to even come near you—”
“Finn, stop. Stop. Please.” I stood from the bed, shaking my head. He got up as well, following me to the dresser. “You won’t do anything. You can’t or you’re just as bad as he is.” I turned around, placing my hands on his chest. “Listen to me.”
“I am.”
“No, really. Listen. This is…a bad situation.”
He snorted, and I glared at him.
“An understatement, I know,” I said. “But really, we can’t make it worse for either of us. If we don’t do the right thing, if we play by his rules, it’s going to be worse. For you or me. If you do something to him, if you hurt him, then what? We’re screwed anyway because you’re in jail and I’m telling you, I’ll be a mess without you here.”
“I’d be a mess without you,” he murmured, cupping my cheek with one hand.
“So, promise me you won’t do anything.”
His jaw twitched. “I can’t promise you that.”
I stood like that, for a long moment, letting his words sink in. Trying to put myself in his position. If he were in danger, could I just stand there? No. But there was a big difference between going after danger and finding yourself knee-deep in it.
Blowing out a breath, I said, “Okay, let’s revise that. You won’t go after Mark. You won’t put yourself in a situation with him that he didn’t already cause. If he does anything—”
“I’ll break his fingers.”
“Finn,” I said on a frustrated sigh.
The anger of his words didn’t match his tenderness when he brushed his thumb on my cheek. “That’s all I can give you.”
I kissed him full on the mouth, my body pressed against his. “All right. I’m on board with that.”
He squeezed my ass. “Good. Now, let’s pack.”
“Wait.”
His shoulders tensed. “What?”
“One more thing. I need you to give me one more thing.”
Finn grinned. “Right now? Because we’ll have a lot of time at the cabin.”
“Not that.”
He frowned.
“Not now, I mean. Finn, really. This is serious.”
He turned and unzipped my bag. “Okay, what else?”
“The whole truth. You said you would. I’ve been honest with you. I need you to do the same with me.”
“I am. I have been.”
“The note,” I said quietly. “Did it say anything else?”
His face went blank for a minute like he wasn’t sure what I was talking about. Then his features closed off and he turned to the dresser again. “Socks? Underwear—although you don’t really need that—”
“Finn.”
“God, Charlotte, why do you have to know every damn thing?” he said, though there was no anger or blame in his voice. He shoved a hand through his hair. “Why?”
“I can ask Curtis,” I said.
He glared at me. “That was low.”
“Tell me.”
His jaw hardened. “Yes, the note said something else. And it’s not—”
“Tell me.”
His voice was low when he answered but I heard each word. “It also said, ‘I love you.’”