Chapter 36

Ruby

I stand in front of my open refrigerator door, staring blankly at the contents while my mind spins.

It feels weird to be home, back in my own apartment. After the trip I just had, it feels like everything is different—off, somehow—but here, everything is the same. Unchanged and just as I left it.

Somehow, that just doesn’t feel right.

For my home to be so clean and tidy, so untouched even while there’s a maelstrom raging in my head, it’s just not right.

I had been so hopeful at the start of our vacation, so sure that something wonderful was going to happen.

I think back to my journal, to the foolish way that I clung to it the last few days, fantasizing that all of my youthful dreams were about to come true.

I was stupid, embarrassingly so. I’m a grown ass woman, not a love struck teenager. I should’ve known better than to think that I’ll have some fairy tale ending with my brother’s best friend.

Wyatt isn’t the boy that I knew years ago. He’s a man—a man who has been through things that I can’t even begin to understand.

He’s changed and he had to change. I should’ve expected that, going in to it.

Instead, I let myself believe that we were the same crazy kids who shared a forbidden kiss years ago. I let myself think that we could pick up where we left off.

That was obviously never going to happen. I only wish I had realized it sooner—before everything went to hell and before my security was threatened.

I have yet to hear from Fentress. No call, no text. Whether or not I still have a job is anyone’s guess.

Though if I were betting, I’d put money on the latter.

I realize how long I’ve been fixating on the near bare shelves of my fridge and shake my head to clear it. I’ve gotta pull myself together here and stop dwelling on my own shitty situation.

The thing is though, I don’t seem to be able to do so.

I groan, reaching for the bottle of wine on the bottom shelf. If I can’t stop thinking on my own, at least this might help.

Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I head back to my living room, bottle in hand.

This is going to be a rough night, might as well indulge.

Plopping down on the sofa, I pour myself a glass, not stopping until the dark liquid is on the brink of overflowing. I grab my laptop with my free hand, settling it onto my lap and taking a mouthful of wine.

Distraction, that’s all I need—just a little mindless tedium to tear my thoughts away from Wyatt.

I decide social media is the best way to go and pull up Facebook. After all, what’s more mindless than that?

I scroll aimlessly down my news feed, skimming over articles and posts from people who are only sort of my friends.

It’s the usual racket.

Someone had a baby, another went on a trip. Still another declares that she’s in a relationship, but it’s complicated.

As if anyone even cares.

I’m about to give up on my quest for distraction altogether when a notification pops up on my screen.

With nothing better to do, I click on it.

It’s an article I’ve been tagged in, some posting from a news site that I’ve never visited before:

Routine arrest leads to startling discovery

Alright, my interest is piqued. I click to open it, drumming my nails against my lap as the new window loads.

The moment it does, my breath catches in my throat. There’s a mug shot to accompany the article, a familiar face staring back at me.

Though clearly worse for wear, there’s no mistaking him. His eyes have begun to blacken underneath, and there’s a bandage covering his nose, but I’ve looked at this face five days a week for months.

Fentress.

My eyes skim quickly over the article, hands trembling slightly as I read:

A routine arrest for breaking and entering has resulted in a startling discovery about one prominent local lawyer.

My mind races as I continue.

At booking, his history of violence came to light; a turn of events that came as a shock to the community. The man in question, Carl Fentress, is now believed to have been in the process of attempted assault when he was apprehended. This, in the wake of detectives discovering his history of assault on his former secretaries at a joint law firm. Authorities revealed that he had, on three separate occasions, been arrested for assaulting his female employees; a fact that he had, until now, taken great pains to hide.

I finish the article and immediately reread it, hoping foolishly that there has been some mistake.

If this is true, if Fentress really is the monster they say, then he was at the lake house to do much more than talk to me.

I set my computer aside and back away from it, looking at it now like it’s some poisonous serpent.

This can’t be true. I’ve worked with this man five days a week, been alone with him more times than I can count.

Tremors rack through my body at the thought.

I’ve been in danger this whole time. At any moment, he could’ve attacked me. I could’ve been next on his list of victims.

My heart thuds almost painfully in my chest, terror washing over me in waves.

If I had been alone at the lake house that day, if Wyatt hadn’t been there…

Oh no.

Wyatt.

I blamed him, treated him like he was some feral animal that couldn’t be trusted.

I picture the hurt look in his eyes back at the lake house, I hear him apologizing.

I can’t believe how wrong I was.

If he hadn’t been there, who knows what might have happened. He protected me, saved me. And how did I repay him?

With mistrust and anger, accusing glares, and silence.

I collapse slowly back on the couch, breathing heavily in the wake of my discovery.

Carl Fentress is a monster.

And Wyatt Lawrence saved me.