I stare at my list, my heartbeat steady, like I’m finally in control. I swallow down a painful lump in my throat.
This list isn’t about bitterness or revenge.
It’s survival.
This is how I make sure no one controls me ever again.
At what point do I need to decide this was a catastrophic mistake?
Addison Scott Communications is real.
Except it kind of… isn’t.
I created my own firm a few weeks ago and I’ve been pounding the pavement ever since, trying to cultivate my own client list, but Matt’s name slips into every prospective lead I find.
“We’ve heard great things about you from Matt Whitlock.”
“Oh, you worked for Game Day? You must know Matt Whitlock.”
“Matt Whitlock said you’re the best in the business.”
The conversations end there. I let them die a slow death.
I’ve had a few consultation sessions, but nothing concrete. Nothing major. I know it takes time, but I’m starting to believe I need to look beyond the New York area if I’m ever going to escape him.
Is that giving up? Is it running away?
I think about this documentary I watched once while Matt was out of town on business. This woman escaped her abuser after years of being stuck under his thumb. She packed up her belongings, disappeared in the dead of night, and didn’t stop until she landed somewhere safe.
No one called her a coward. Because it’s not weak to run away when you’re escaping your captor.
It’s brave. It’s survival.
And how is this any different?
I glance at my laptop and pull up a map. Suddenly I don’t see the unknown. I see possibilities. I see cities that don’t echo with his voice.
My phone vibrates next to me, illuminating Luke’s name and photo.
Luke Wright was a foreign exchange student my parents hosted while I was in high school. We grew up together as the best of friends and have kept in touch over the years. I accept the call and wait for hisface to appear on the screen. The light is dim around him, like it’s late at night, but his blonde hair, mischievous brown eyes, and easy grin are unmistakable.
“Well, well, well. Addison Scott,” he teases in his smooth British accent. He leans back in a desk chair and smirks. “Been a while, love.”
I roll my eyes, but can’t help but smile.
“It hasn’t beenthatlong,” I say, defending myself.
Luke and I have always kept in contact, but admittedly, our friendship wavered when Matt and I were together. Luke made no secret of how much he hated Matt, and Matt hated him right back. He knew Luke hated him and saw straight through him. He couldn’t get past his jealousy either, which I never understood because Luke and I have never had any romantic interest in each other. Luke was the only person I didn’t cut out of my life at Matt’s request—I just stayed in contact without him knowing about it. I couldn’t bring myself to cut out the person who feels more like a brother than a friend.
“Miss me?” he asks, tilting his head and flashing a playful smile.
“No,” I lie, laughing.
Luke sighs, mock-offended. “You wound me.”
“How are you?”
