I shut the door behind Ana and step back, watching the cab pull away from the curb and take off, driving the short distance to the house that we’re now sharing. The rain starts again, coming down slowly and gently and gradually picking up force. It’s cold, and the dampness in the air is the kind that sets into your bones, making it almost impossible to warm up without the help of a hot shower or another body pressed up against your own.

I should stand out here, getting drenched, and then deal with the shivers and chills the rest of the day. I deserve it. And Ana deserves better.

I turn my head up to the gray sky above, hating myself more and more as each drop of rain falls down on my face. My mind flashes back to this morning, back to when I first set foot into the office. Tired from all the fucking traveling, my guard was down. The Kentucky area code didn’t raise a red flag, even though it should have. I get calls from all over the world, but I know where Ana is from…and where Steven comes from.

Yet, I answered. There was no exchange of words, but he heard my voice and inhaled deep, as if he was taking in the fresh aroma of cookies right out of the oven. His exhale was one of pleasure, and until that point, I never knew how disturbing it actually is to hear nothing but breathing coming from the other line. Like a lame cliché from a B-grade horror movie, the panting left me feeling violated. Violated and pissed. Maybe I should turn the table and stalk him. Find him. Beat the shit out of him.

But that’s not what’s eating at me. That’s not what’s making me feel like the world’s worst boyfriend and biggest piece of shit. I told Ana to meet me in the main lobby of the building so no one from Black Ink would see her and raise suspicions that we’re together. Which was low of me in the first place, and my stomach actually fucking hurts from it.

I want that promotion. I want Ana. Why can’t I have both?

On my way down, as luck would have it, I run into the one person who knows about the promotion…and who could blow my cover about Ana. That morning, Caitlin pulled me aside and said she wants to be done before the holidays, which means I only have a few more weeks until things become official.

Lindsay got out of the elevator as I was going to get in, and stopped me. She touched my arm as we spoke, happy we ran into each other and looking forward to the Halloween party. She asked me if I was bringing a date. Only a second passed between us before I answered, but a million things went through my head.

Ana and I are together. She’s my girlfriend and I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone. She makes me happy. Makes me a better person. Hell, she even makes me feel better about myself, which is why I feel like such shit now.

I said no.

I didn’t have a date.

All because I want to be a publisher.

The rain falls harder, hitting me like the realization that I’m not a good person, no matter how you spin it. It wasn’t direct, but it happened just the same. I picked work over her. I lied about the one thing in this world that’s more important to me than anything…or so I say.

Maybe she’s not.

And she deserves more than that. Ana is the kind of woman who deserves to be the center of someone’s world. I thought I could give that to her, that I could be enough, but now…now I don’t think so.

Again.

I should have fucking listened to myself the first time around. I knew I wasn’t good enough for her, and was a fool to think someone as wonderful as Ana could settle for someone like me.

Even before I tried to break up Luke and Lexi, I’ve done things I wasn’t proud of. Things to get ahead. Things to make myself look better. And what I haven’t done can be overshadowed by what I’ve felt.

Jealous.

Thinking others are undeserving.

That I should be the one getting ahead.

“Cole?”

I blink, eyelashes wet with raindrops, and turn in the direction of the voice. I can’t see her face, but I know that voice.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, looking through the sea of people and umbrellas for my ex-fiancée.

“I got your message.”

My eyes settle on Heather’s face. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and she’s wearing a bright pink raincoat. I used to feel so much when our eyes would meet, but now I feel nothing.

“I didn’t call you.”

She shuffles forward. “It was a text.”

“I didn’t text you either.”

She pulls her coat tighter at the collar. “Can we get out of the rain?”

“Sure.” Drops are making their way through my jacket by now and the cold is setting in, though I still think I’m deserving of the misery. Heather steps under an overhang, close to the building. She reaches inside her jacket and pulls out her phone.

“I didn’t think it was from you,” she starts, eyebrows pushing together. “The messages starts with ‘Hi Heather’ and there’s no comma between the two. I know I’m not the best with grammar, so if I’m catching errors…” She shakes her head.

“If you knew it wasn’t from me then why are you here?”

“I don’t know.” She looks up at me, eyes meeting mine. I used to trust and love this woman. Now I don’t believe a word she says. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, I guess. Why would someone send a message pretending to be you?”

“Can I see it?” I ask. “I think I might know who sent it.”

“Of course.” She hands me the phone and her fingers grace my skin. I feel nothing.

The text is from a blocked number, reading as ‘Unknown’ on her phone. The conversation between them is short.

Unknown: Hi Heather. Its Cole. Can we meet and talk? I miss you.

Heather: Okay. Where?

Unknown: Come to my office tomorrow after lunch.

Heather: What time?

The unknown texter never replied after that.

“There’s more than one grammar mistake,” I start then shake my head. That doesn’t matter. I take a screenshot of the conversation, send it to myself, and then delete the text from Heather’s phone.

“You know who it is?” Heather asks, taking her phone back.

“I think so, and if this person tries to contact you again, don’t answer.” I look at Heather, noticing for the first time how much she’s aged since ending things. I don’t love her anymore, and there was a time saying her name filled me with hatred for everything she’s done. Having to cancel the wedding hurt. My heart was broken and I had to call everything we had booked to tell them things weren’t going to happen. I lost money, but that didn’t matter. Mom had to tell all her friends her son wasn’t getting married anymore. It was embarrassing for her. And for me. That right there is reason enough to hate Heather.

But add in all the shit she did after that…holding onto her obsession over Luke, desperately hoping he’d develop feelings for her…lying and making me think my own brother betrayed me. I know I cannot blame Heather for my actions. What she did to me caused the emotions I felt, but I and I alone acted on them. At the end of the day, the choices we make are ours, and cannot be blamed on anyone else.

Heather made me feel like shit, but it was me who sought vengeance.

Heather made me believe that Luke encouraged her to leave me, but it was me who tried to make him just as miserable.

She might not be any better of a person than I am, hell, she’s pathetic enough for not being able to let go of her high school crush, but she’s not to blame.

I am.

“I forgive you,” I blurt.

Heather blinks and then shakes her head. “What?”

“The last time I saw you, you told me you were sorry. I forgive you.”

She steps closer. “Thank you, Cole. I feel awful. Almost every day, to be honest. What I did was wrong and selfish. You were good to me and I took advantage of that. It’s been hard moving on,” she confesses and it hits me how similar we are.

“You should move on.” The words leave and I feel a weight lifted off my chest. “The past is in the past. We’re both different people now.”

“Right. Thank you, Cole. Really.” She steps in and hugs me. I stiffen, and then carefully bend my arm around her in a half-hug. She moves back, looks at me, and smiles. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” I reply and wonder if I should return the compliment. I don’t get a chance because my phone vibrates in my pocket as a text comes through. Welcoming a distraction, I reach inside my jacket to check it. The number hasn’t been added to my contacts, but I know who it is.

Steven.

He sent me an image, and when I open it, my heart pumps and rage fills me. He sent a blurry photo, but there’s no mistaking the couple who’s embracing. From a distance, the hug doesn’t look as awkward as it felt. All you see are Heather’s arms around me and a look of satisfaction on her face.

“Cole? What’s wrong?”

“My girlfriend,” I start and the words die in my throat. How can I explain what’s going on when I can hardly fathom it myself? Steven set this up, but why? To get my ex and I together so he could take pictures and send them to Ana? Make her think I’m sneaking around with Heather? He’s psychotic and dangerous, and believes if he can’t have Ana, no one can. Fuck. He’s trying to make her leave me, probably so he can get her alone and hurt her.

Rage takes over and I look across the street. Standing next to a park bench—the same fucking bench I’ve seen Steven on more than once—is a man in a gray hoodie, holding a phone. I don’t think. Ignoring Heather, I take off, racing across the rain-soaked street. Brakes squeal and angry drivers honk and yell at me.

Steven sees me coming after him and turns to run, but bumps into someone and falls to the ground. The phone flies from his hand and he leaves it, scrambling to get up. I’m almost there. I scoop up the phone, scraping my knuckles on the cement in my haste, and jump over the park bench, grabbing Steven by the hood of his sweatshirt.

A woman screams, seeing me violently shove Steven to the ground. Not caring how much pain I inflict, I push him over, fist raised.

“Wait,” he cries, covering his face with his hands. With the hood off, I see black, curly hair. That’s not Steven.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I demand, and lower my arm.

The man slowly gets to his feet, and I let him, aware that people are watching us now. He holds his hands up in front of him, letting me know he won’t try anything…like I’d ever trust him.

“Why did you take pictures of me?”

“Some guy paid me fifty bucks to do it.”

“Some guy?”

“Yeah.” The black-haired man before me is young, no older than twenty-one if I had to guess. “He just came up to me and said he’d give me fifty bucks to take your picture and send it.”

“The phone?” I demand. “Where did you get it?”

“He gave it to me. Said to leave it on the bench when I was done and he’d get it later.”

“Where’d he go?”

The guy shakes his head. “I don’t know. He already paid me, so I didn’t pay attention.”

“Fuck,” I say and look around. Is he watching? Or is he—shit. Ana’s alone. I look at the curly-haired kid once more. “Be more careful next time. There are some real psychos out there.”

His eyes widen and he looks at me. “Yeah, I know.” He turns and hurries away. My heart is about to break right out of my fucking chest. I call Ana, nerves on fire as I wait for her to answer.

She doesn’t.

The call goes to voicemail. “Fuck!” I whirl around and hurry to the street. I need to find Ana. My head is spinning and I can’t think. I raise my arm to get a cab when Ana calls me back.

“Hey, babe,” she starts. “Sorry. I was in the bathroom.”

“You’re home?”

“Yeah, I just got in. Is everything okay?”

I close my eyes and exhale. “Yeah. I wanted to make sure you got home safe. And tell you I miss you already.” And fuck, I do. I want to be home with her, wrapped up in blankets on the couch or in bed…it doesn’t fucking matter where as long as she’s with me.

“Come home early. You’re exhausted, Cole. You need to rest. Though, if you do come home early, there won’t be much resting.”

“I’m okay with that. And I’ll see what I can do. I might be able to leave early.”

“I hope so.”

I turn around, feeling more and more paranoid. And then I see Heather across the street, waiting for me to come back and explain everything. Fuck. “Me too.”