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And then he takes off down the street, jogging toward his Audi glinting under a streetlight half a block away. The adrenaline keeping me upright lasts long enough for me to snatch up the keys and dive into my car. I don’t breathe until I hear the click of my doors locking.
I start the car and pull away from the curb as fast as I can, desperate to get away from here, to get away from him. I get two blocks before my hands start shaking. One more block before I have to pull over because I’m hyperventilating and the tears are so thick in my eyes I can’t see.
Turning off the engine, I sit in the dark for a moment, sobbing. My heart ramps back up, and all the fear I’d been suppressing clamps down on me. My sobs turn harsh, and I can’t breathe, my chest tight, my skin hot, my eyes already puffy.
I don’t know what to do. I’m too scared to go home. The thought of walking into my dark and empty apartment is too terrifying. What if he followed me again? In a panic, I wipe my eyes to look around. I twist from side to side, peering down the dark streets for any sign of him.
The hiccupping sobs still racking my chest make it hard to focus, but after a long minute of looking, I don’t see any sign of him. If I can’t go home, where can I go? Who can I call?
Not Sophie.
Not Lauren.
Julian.
My phone is in my hand and ringing before I stop to overthink what I’m doing.
“Frankie?” His sleepy rumble slows the racing of my heart, but I can’t control the hiccupping sob that escapes me. “What’s wrong? Where are you?” The sharpness in his tone is comforting, in a strange way. Because I know he’s ready for action, that he’d be here as fast as humanly possible if he knew where I was.
I try to talk, but the words keep getting caught in my chest. “I’m”—hiccup—“I’m, I’m.” I force myself to blow out a shaky breath. “Okay. I’m okay”—hiccup—“not really okay, but not hurt.” There’s rustling through the phone.
“Where are you? Are you at home? I can be there in a minute, just tell me where you are.”
I look around. I honestly have no idea where I am. “I don’t want to go home.” It’s the clearest thought in my brain. Don’t go home. Right next to the other clear thought—Julian will make you safe. “Can I, maybe, come to your house?” As soon as I ask, doubt attacks me. There’s a split second of silence before I rush to fill it. “I mean, I don’t have to. You can say no. Is Liam with you? Is that—?”
Julian cuts me off with a simple question. “Are you okay to drive or do you need me to come get you?”
“Will you stay on the phone with me while I drive?”
“Of course. I just sent you my address. Share your location with me, okay?”
I tap through a few apps, pulling up the directions and sharing my location. I’m closer to his house than I thought. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Rocky. Anything you need.” The silly nickname chips away at the fear, and I breathe a little deeper.
He stays on the phone with me, offering silent companionship while I make my way downtown to the address he sent me. I don’t talk, my hiccups are the only sound apart from the swish of my windshield wipers as the rain comes down harder.
My tears are under control by the time I pull up in front of his building. He’s standing in an empty spot near the front, waiting for me. I barely have a chance to put my car in park and unbuckle my seatbelt before Julian has my door open and pulls me into his arms.
We’re both soaking wet from the sudden downpour, but his embrace is warm and comforting. It pushes the terror away, cocooning me in a bubble where I don’t have to think about what just happened. “Are you okay? You scared the shit out of me. What happened, Rocky?”
He tucks me under his arm and leads me toward the door. We’re two steps inside when my stomach growls. “My shawarma!” I stop, digging my keys out of my bag.
Julian plucks them from my fingers and bounds outside to get it, commanding me to stay put. All it takes is a moment on my own before doubt floods through me. Am I overreacting? Derek didn’t do anything to me, after all. He just scared me. Lots of things scare me, that doesn’t make them illegal.
“I’m going to need you to tell me what happened, Rocky. I looked over your car, and I didn't see anything wrong with it. Did you get in a fender bender or something?” Julian steps back through the doorway, handing me the bag from my front seat.
I follow him up a set of stairs to a hallway, struggling to find words. He opens the second door on the right, ushering me inside. “I don’t want to pressure you, but if you don’t tell me why you called me crying hysterically at three in the morning, I’m going to lose my mind,” he adds, closing the door behind us.
Julian’s apartment is nicer than I was expecting. Not that I know what I was picturing. There’s a deep black leather couch facing the TV, and a set of tall bookshelves taking up one whole wall in the living room.
Making a beeline for the table I spy off to the left, I move into the small kitchen area. He takes the bag from me and sets it on the table before pulling me back into his arms.
I slip my hands around his waist, my cheek resting against his chest. “You know how we’ve been working late to fix that bug?”
“Yeah. I thought you guys fixed it? That’s what Raj said when he went to pick up dinner for you guys.”
“We figured out the problem today, but it took until just now to get the fix finished. We all left together. I stopped to pick up some food, as you can see. When I went to get back in my car, someone came up behind me.”
