“One: I tell you about Ash. But if I do, you need to understand the boundary you set for me when I met you has been weakened. That particular door will be harder to keep closed the more you open it. Eventually, the damn thing will fall off its hinges.”
“No, it won’t,” I mumbled over the drumming in my ears, the butterflies swarming inside my belly.
She pinned me with a look, quirking a trimmed dark brow. “Don’t lie to me or yourself. It won’t help in the end.”
“In the end?”
She blew past my question, diving into the second option. “Two: you can grab your bags, thank me for the coffee, and be on your way. We can continue as we have been for the last few months. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“But there’s something wrong with me inquiring about him?” I asked, my voice soft.
“No, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s unexpected but not wrong in any way, babe.”
Taking a page from Dorthea’s notebook, I blew out a breath, the air hitting my forehead. “Okay, so why won’t I be able to close the door?”
She let out a soft sigh, looking over her shoulder before moving close to me. Her voice dropped to whisper. “Because once I tell you what I have to tell you, there is no way your mind will allow you to close the door, Angel.”
A chill slithered down my spine. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”
Margo would be a good poker player if she weren’t so kindhearted. The tension at the crease of her furrowed brow twitched as a shadow of fear moved over her, and thus me. Her grip on my hand tightened. “I can’t tell you about Ash until you give me consent to do so. I made a promise to you that summer.”
“Yes, I know you did.”
She pressed her lips together, her eyes sliding over to the checkout counter, where Carrie was hunched over, dressed in a pink cotton dress, her nose buried in a book. When I was in here, Carrie avoided the espresso bar. She was another reason I didn’t come in often. The last thing I wanted to do was make anything awkward for anyone. Margo assured me that Carrie was doingthat out of respect for me. They had all come to an agreement over me, apparently. What said agreement entailed, I had no idea.
“I just want to know if he is okay,” I whispered. Margo said nothing, waiting for the words. “You can tell me. I give you consent. Thank you for honoring your promise.”
Her mouth twisted, uncertainty shining in her irises. “Fuck me. Give me your other hand.”
“But why—”
“I need it, Angel. Give it here,” she ordered, holding her other hand out. She slapped it down on the bar, open and waiting. I did as she asked. She jerked her head. “I need you to promise me you won’t freak out here. If you do, it will signal the Red Snake team, and Grayson or Hayes will be here in a flash.”
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Red Snake Investigations was the company Ash worked for. Grayson, the owner of Red Snake, was Carrie’s fiancé and Hayes, his co-owner, was Margo’s boyfriend. “Why would they—how would they know?”
Margo tipped her eyes to the upper corner of the store just beside me. “Because Red Snake runs Rossy’s security system. There are cameras everywhere.”
An entire slew of thoughts and irrational questions formed, racing through my mind in rapid succession, panic growing with each one.
Had Red Snake been watching me the entire time?
Were they—had Ash been watching over me?
Did the people up north know? Had they looped him—Red Snake—in to watch me?
I thought I was free. They said I could live a normal life without having to look over my shoulder. They promised me everything would be okay.
My skin started to crawl, and I suddenly felt trapped. The walls of the bookstore slowly started to close in around me. I was seconds away from being a prisoner once more.
“Hey, hey, look at me,” Margo urged, squeezing my hands. “They’re just security cameras. We’ve had a few upsets in the past and Hayes offered to install a security system for Rossy back when we first got together. The feeds are monitored by either Jake or Dominic. Unless we sound the alarm, they don’t pay much attention to what goes on here. They have other clients who are a higher priority.”
“So, Ash hasn’t been watching me?” My question was rushed, almost breathless.
Margo closed her eyes, dropping her head. I watched as she took a few deep breaths. When she lifted her head again, all the anxiety I’d been feeling vanished, replaced with something much more potent.
Fear.
“No, Ash hasn’t been watching you….” She trailed off and looked out the window, her butterfly tattoo shifting as she tried swallowing a few times. She had a lump in her throat too.
