Who’d have thought this was what I’d be doing on a Thursday night? That I’d be following a girl around like some kind of fucking creeper, using every one of my resources as a cop to keep tabs on her. To make sure she was safe.
But then again, it wasn’t just any girl. It was Lola Perez. The woman who’d haunted my dreams for the past two years since she’d moved in to the apartment below mine in the four-plex we shared. A woman who was far too sweet for me. Too young. Too innocent. Too good.
In the time we’d spent together as friends since she’d moved in—a shared pizza here, some Netflix binge-watching there—I’d come to find she wasn’t much younger than I was, but she had a fresh-faced innocence about her that reminded me so much of my sister. Combine that with how I’d found Lola last week, tugged into an alley off Main Street by a man she obviously didn’t want to be with…the fear and blind panic on her face—
Jaw clenching, I shoved the thoughts away as I pushed through the front door of the church, a sense of calm washing over me as soon as my eyes landed on her. Just like always, she sat in the last pew. Never the middle or the front. Always the last pew on the right, head bowed, hands clasped in her lap, her long, dark hair falling forward to conceal her face from onlookers. I didn’t need to see it, though. I’d studied her long enough to have her features memorized. Bright eyes—vibrant green irises with a starburst of fire around her pupil—pink, curved lips, and the barest hint of a dimple when she smiled. God, I loved making her smile.
The first time I’d found her sitting alone in the church had been complete happenstance. It’d been only a couple weeks ago as I’d been patrolling the area during Jane’s Hour at Sin. I’d walked past the church just as someone had been leaving, the door opening as they’d stepped out. And there she’d been, looking sad…lonesome. Like a moth to a flame, I’d slipped inside and sat down next to her. Not to talk. Not to ask her what she was doing there or why she came. Simply to sit. To offer her companionship—the same thing I’d been doing every day since she’d moved in to the four-plex. Letting her know she wasn’t alone.
Our relationship had evolved from something neighborly to something much deeper over the course of the two years since she’d stepped foot in my life. And I’d spent almost the entirety of that time attempting to avoid the attraction between us. Fighting it and pushing it away. But there was no getting around the fact that we’d been drawn to each other like magnets—always had been.
Now, though, I was tired of fighting the pull.
If last week had taught me anything, it was that life could change in the blink of an eye. If I hadn’t been there in time…if I’d been even five minutes later—
“You don’t have to come, you know,” she said, her voice a whispered breath in the sanctuary.
I glanced over at her, cataloging her features—features that had starred in a hundred dreams. She’d tucked her hair behind her ear, and I wanted to reach out and see if her face felt as soft as it looked. Wanted to swipe my thumb over her full bottom lip. Wanted to taste it on my tongue.
Instead, I answered her the only way I ever did. I slipped my arm behind her across the back of the pew, careful to give her the space she so obviously craved. But just like always, I let only my thumb brush against her shoulder, the softest, barest touch. Reassuring her she wasn’t alone in the most unobtrusive way I could. Even through the layers of her clothes and the long coat she still wore, she felt the contact—she always did. Her whole demeanor changed at that first brush of my thumb against her. She relaxed into the pew, her shoulders sagging as if she’d been carrying the weight of the world on them.
Sometimes we sat for five minutes, sometimes forty-five. It was random, no rhyme or reason to the timing that I could see, but I was there however long she needed.
Tonight, she stood after about ten minutes, tugging her coat tighter around her, concealing whatever she wore underneath. And then she walked toward the exit, never once glancing back to see if I’d follow her. She didn’t need to. I was always there.
Since the first time I’d found her here, we’d fallen into a certain rhythm. I’d sit next to her for however long she needed, follow her out to the parking lot, and make sure she got home okay. Most of the time, we’d hang out at my place, order some Chinese or a pizza, and binge-watch a show on Netflix. We’d developed an easy camaraderie between us, even as I buried the part of me that wanted nothing more than to feel her under me. To know what her curves felt like under my hands. But since the night last week, everything had been thrown into chaos. I didn’t just want to make sure she was safe, I needed to.
I walked close to her, using my body to shield her much smaller one from the biting January wind. “Why haven’t you been answering your door when I’ve knocked?”
She didn’t look back. Didn’t pause as she hustled toward her car. “I’ve been studying.”
Looking down at her, I raised an eyebrow. “You can’t answer the door when you’re studying? We haven’t hung out at all this week.”
She shrugged, not once glancing over at me. “I study with headphones on. I probably didn’t hear you.”
Lola was good at avoidance—I’d found that out in the past several days…ever since I’d pulled that guy off her in the alley. She wasn’t lying, that much I was certain of. But just the same, I wouldn’t put it past her to intentionally study with her headphones on so she could use it as an excuse and wouldn’t have to answer the door.
Her car was parked under the light in the church parking lot, the pile of junk a thorn in my side. I hated that she drove a piece of shit older than she was, knowing it was a breath away from dying on the side of the road and leaving her stranded.
“I’ll follow you home. You want to order a pizza?”
The change was subtle—just a slight tightening of her shoulders—but I saw it all the same. “I can’t. I have…plans.”
She’d always been vague and evasive, giving just enough information to pacify me, but this was different. The undercurrent of nervousness was something new. Normally, I would’ve let it go. Prior to last week, I wouldn’t have thought anything of it. I would’ve hated knowing she was out there without me, but I’d have dealt with it. Now, though? After peeling that fucker off her, after seeing the bruises on her wrist from where he’d grabbed her? I couldn’t let it go.
“What kind of plans?”
She exhaled a deep sigh as she unlocked her door, her irritation visible. “That’s not really your business, Connor.”
I worked hard not to let my frustration show. Something was up, but I couldn’t quite figure it out. It could’ve been in response to what had happened—I’d watched my sister pull away in the same manner after her attack. But a niggling voice told me something else was going on here. If my instincts were correct—which they usually were—I was missing an important piece, and I was almost certain it had to do with her job.
Since she’d moved here, she’d told anyone who asked that she worked from home doing sales for a marketing firm on the mainland. But that didn’t explain where she went at night. Didn’t explain the schedule she kept or her evasiveness whenever her job came up.
Reaching out, I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, tugging her to a stop before she could get into her car. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, Lo.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Didn’t draw out her dimple. “I’ll be fine. If I get done early, I’ll come up and say hi. We can watch a movie or something. Okay?”
No, it wasn’t okay. Even a little. But I’d been there before and knew there was no getting around it. No getting information out of her. She was stubborn almost to a fault—something we had in common—and wasn’t going to give in, no matter how much I sweet-talked her.
I held open the car door for her, waiting for her to slide into the seat and buckle her seat belt. “I’m counting on it.”
She didn’t look at me, didn’t glance up with a smile like she normally would have. She just waited for me to step out of the way so she could shut the door. Then she started her car and drove off.
And I did the only thing I could. I followed her.
Always careful to stay just at the speed limit, she made her way toward the north end of the island. All that was up this way in Temperance Falls was a small horse farm, an apple orchard, and the farmer’s market when it was in season. But it turned out she wasn’t staying in Temperance Falls. The feeling of unease settling in my gut only grew when she turned toward the bridge, then went straight over it toward the mainland. Being careful to keep distance between us, I followed her into a nice neighborhood, large houses and well-kept lawns lining the streets.
She parked at the curb in front of a two-story brick colonial, forcing me to stop a couple houses down. Her lights went off, and there she sat. Minutes ticked by, and still no movement came from her car.
“What are you doing, Lo?” I whispered to myself as I surveyed the street, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Always keeping a watch for any threats.
And then her door opened and she stepped out, glancing around before she tucked her chin close to her chest and walked up to the front door of a house a few down from where she’d parked. My entire body grew taut, not knowing what awaited her when that door opened. Hating not being able to see the face of whoever answered. Hating even more as she slipped through the door, and then she was out of my sight.
I sat there for long minutes, eyes glued to the front door, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure. A sign she was okay. A sign she wasn’t.
The longest thirteen minutes of my life passed before that door flew open and out ran Lola. The scene was so reminiscent of years ago—of my sister running from a house so similar to this one, of me not being there in time to stop her horror—it took me by surprise. I sat frozen, unsure what to do, until someone stormed out of the house after Lola. I was out of my car before I could blink, sprinting toward her.