Page 24 of Hearts at War

The optimism I felt after my interview faded every day that I didn’t get a reply from Janelle. When someone else from the bank emailed me about a form that I’d filled out, where a fillable text box had been acting glitchy, I wanted to assume it was a good sign, that I was still being actively considered.

When a week had gone by and no call from Janelle came, I tried to stay positive. I didn’t stop looking for other openings, but there were none around here. Even the remote ones required consistent travel with a couple of hours of a commute. Hybrid jobs with in-office times were tricky to pull off with how far Burton was from everywhere.

To relax and try to get my mind off the chance that I’d read Janelle wrong or saw things that weren’t there in that interview, I took an extra-long and hot shower later than usual. Steam built within the tiny but clean bathroom, and I stalled in the warmth. Only when I looked overly pruny did I get out and get ready for bed.

Just as I reached for the cover on the bed to pull it back, someone knocked on the front door.

I froze.

My fingers tightened on the blanket, squeezing tightly in a knee-jerk reaction to the noise.

Someone is here?

The notion of anyone coming this way at this late hour and in this dreary cold weather made no sense.

Who is it?

What’s going on?

Is there an emergency?

Deep in the back of my mind, another little voice popped up.

Is it him?

Did he find me?

Having an unexpected visitor stopping here was the last thing I wanted, but I immediately feared it had to be him. The one I ran from. The man I hid from.

David?

Another knock sounded.

I jolted, tightening a fist around the handful of fabric I held. Stiff and tense, I couldn’t bring myself to move any further. I couldn’t even dare to inhale a full breath.

Is it him?

Another question bombarded me, overwhelming me with this instant panic.

How?

How did he find me?

I’d slipped out before he could do anything. I left my phone behind and got a new cheaper one. I googled how to disable tracking. All those steps I’d taken to conceal my location all seemed for nothing now.

It had to be him. My enemy was standing on my step. Privacy was still an illusion. This hope for a new start and finding a sense of security was a damn joke.

He was here—

“Hello?”

I narrowed my eyes, sharpening an unseeing stare on the back of the door.

Wait.

That was a woman’s voice. Not a man’s.

The thought of it not being David almost dizzied me. I couldn’t think of anyone, much less any woman, wanting anything with me out here. I wasn’t in prime real estate for solicitors to come knocking. Jehovah witnesses didn’t make rounds this late, did they?