AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mack grabs my hand and squeezes. “Yeah, they did that, not you. He won’t hold you responsible for what your family did. He just needs time to process and cool down.”
God, I hope she’s right. Minus the crazy psycho who watched us fuck and chased me through Nicholson Manor, our writing retreat was one of the best months of my life. As crazy as it is, I’m falling for my stalker, and I’m not ready for this thing between us to be over.
My phone buzzes with a call from an unknown number. Four missed calls. Probably my psycho-killer father trying to justify his actions and worm his way back into my life. I haven’t needed him for years, and I certainly don’t need him now. Especially if his presence drives Saint away.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Mack asks when my phone rings again.
“It’s probably just my father.”
“What if somebody’s going into labor?”
“Like who?”
“I don’t know—it could be a wrong number and they won’t realize they’re not calling Grandma until you answer.”
I huff through my nose and answer the call. “Sorry, I think you have the wrong number.”
To my surprise, no one responds.
“Hello?”
More silence.
“Dad? Are you there?”
Seriously? This asshole is going to blow up my phone and then not even have the decency to respond? “I thought the era of prank calls was over. Don’t you have better shit to do with your time?”
Still, they say nothing.
“Is your phone on mute or something? Hit the mute button.”
Silence.
Maybe this isn’t my father at all. He definitely wouldn’t shut up if he’d gotten me to answer his call. “Is this one of those creepy phone sex fetish things? They have hotlines for this. Go call one of them.” I hang up. “Why is life being such a bitch?”
Mack stands. “I’m going to pour us some wine.”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon,” I call as she retreats into the kitchen.
“Exactly! That’s why I said wine, not liquor.”
My phone screen lights up again. A call from the same number. You’ve got to be kidding me.
“You better say something this time.”
When I’m greeted with more silence, I nearly scream. This is already the most aggravating conversation I’ve ever had, and they still haven’t said a word.
What if this is about Austin? Or Dr. Barrett? Somebody who knows that I was involved somehow. Someone who wants to avenge one of their deaths. And they think I’m their target.
Maybe that blonde girl who was following me in the black BMW.
“Whatever you think you know about me, you’re wrong. Don’t call me again.”
As soon as I hang up, I block the number and call Trevor.
“Hey, Briar! Are you back home? How was the retreat?” His jolly, familiar voice actually gives me an ounce of comfort.
“Do you think you could trace a phone number for me?”
