CHAPTER 1
Autumn
If I could pull my hair out without causing excruciating pain, I would. In a heartbeat. I’m so damn frustrated, anxious, annoyed, raging mad, and completely helpless.
“Helpless.” I spit the word out like the dirty curse it is.
I’ve spent at least sixteen of my twenty-two years on Earth trying to be a decent human being. I don’t remember much before age four or five, so sixteen feels relative. I hold doors open for the elderly and learn people’s names so I can greet them with a friendly smile and the knowledge thatsomeoneknows who they are. I tip my mailman, hand out water to the homeless on extremely hot days, and help at the soup kitchen on holidays and when they need extra hands.
I’m a good person.
Or I thought I was.
Maybe I don’t do enough?Maybe by thinking this way and patting myself on the back means I’m not.
There’s no other explanation for it. For all the crap that has befallen me in the last year.Has it really been that long?
Frankly, it’s been longer. A lot longer.
We met for the first time two years ago, when I worked as a barista in a fancy coffee shop. He asked me out many times, but I wasn’t interested in dating him; though, I remained polite. Especially given that he tipped well, even when I wasn’t serving him. But then he became insistent and began showing up at places I frequented. The bookstore, the gym, a beach I’d never been to. Outside my friend’s house when I was leaving.
When the phone calls began, so too did my freaking out. I went to the police because I had never given him my number, and the few friends I had at the time swore they didn’t either. But of course, the police couldn’t help me. He hadn’t actually done anything wrong or illegal.
I switched jobs, stopped going to all my usual places, and changed my number. It took him about two weeks to find me again…or show his hand, at least. I came home from work one day and immediately knew someone had been in my apartment. I didn’t need to discover that every pair of underwear was missing to realize it was him.
Again, the police said there was no proof and advised me to change my deadbolts, install better window locks, and maybe invest in a security system, or I could just move.
I chose the last option. Changed jobs and cell numbers again, and prayed he’d leave me alone. I still didn’t know his name at this point, but the first night in my new apartment, I woke up to him jacking off over top of me.
I screamed, the neighbor heard me, and he ran.
The police did nothing.Again. Big shocker there.
After that, I started paying for everything in cash, stopped going out, found a virtual job, and became a hermit. I was embarrassed and scared, so I didn’t confide in my sisters. I wish I had. I don’t know what they could have done, but Christmas and Winter are downright terrifying when they get angry. AndTrixie, well, she’s creative and watches a ton of horror movies; I’m sure she could have thought up something.
Instead, I ran. And I’ve kept running.
From Pensacola, I fled all the way up the East Coast to New Jersey. It took him six weeks to find me there. That’s likely my fault because I’d been desperately lonely and called Trixie. She’s not just my sister but my best friend, and I needed her quirky personality to shine a little light on me.
As soon as I realized that he’d found me, I traveled west to Minnesota—randomly choosing it on a map. With no connections to the area, I believed I would be okay. I wasn’t. He found me, and so began the great state chase.
I went to Chicago, then Texas, and on to Arizona after that. Then I thought, maybe he wouldn’t look for me in Florida again, but he did, so I’ve been floating back and forth between Louisiana and Georgia for a while now. Sticking with small towns.
Early this morning, I finally broke down and called Summer. I nearly cried at the sound of her voice. Learning about all the changes in everyone’s lives—my baby sister Bunny especially—had made my rage fester and grow. I’m missing everything, and I hate it.I hate him.But learning that they had sent someone to find me, to help me, brought such a sense of relief that I pulled off the highway because I couldn’t stop bawling.
I’ve been sitting at a rest area for a couple of hours now, staring at the number Summer and her husband texted me.I can’t believe she’s married.I know I should call him, but I’m terrified my stalker has somehow wiggled his way into their lives to find me. Blowing out a deep breath, I punch in the message and hit “send”.
Me: This is Autumn. Send me a video message showing your face, so I know you’re not him.
It takes less than a minute, and I get a reply. Pressing play, I’m surprised by the man in the video.
“Autumn, my name is Outlaw Morgan. Your brother-in-law, Roman Heart, hired me a few months ago to find you. I’d really like it if we could talk. I’d like to meet you where you’re at right now and get you safe.” He has a deep, smoky voice, like he’s been coughing for too long and his throat is raw. A sharp jawline covered in a neatly trimmed beard accentuates his features, and his hair is just slightly too long on top but tapered on the sides. His eyes, oh, those midnight blue orbs, plead with me to trust him.
Someone forgive me because I’m about to.
It goes against everything inside me, but I must. If I ever want to go home again, I need to put my belief in somebody, and right now, he’s all I’ve got.
Placing the call, I hold my breath until he answers. “Autumn, where are you?” He’s straight to the point.
