Page 46 of The Jealous Girl

Girlfriend. The word landed heavily. Tomorrow was supposed to be our wedding day. And yet, here I was, reduced to just being his girlfriend again.

‘Girlfriend?’ His mum’s voice lifted at the end as if the word itself was a question. She turned back to Ryan, confusion flickering across her face. It was clear she hadn’t been expecting me.

I pushed the suitcase handles together, grasping them in one hand, as I thrust my other towards her. ‘It’s lovely to meet you at last, Mrs Blackwater. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances.’

Her gaze dropped to my outstretched hand. She stared at it for a fraction too long before reaching out. Her fingers barely brushed mine before she withdrew again.

Had a handshake been too formal? Especially here, now? Should I have hugged her? The thought alone made my stomach tighten. My family had never been ones for hugging and showing affection. Distance had always felt safer. A lot of distance.

Or maybe it was the word ‘lovely’. That didn’t fit here. Not outside a hospital. Not with her husband on a ward somewhere inside.

She turned back to Ryan, linking her arm through his as she pivoted them towards the entrance. ‘We need to get you upstairs to see your dad. Visiting hours end soon.’

I fumbled with the cases and trailed along behind them.

‘There’s a café just inside,’ she called to me over her shoulder. ‘Why don’t you wait there for a bit? We’ll find you later.’

I nodded quickly. ‘Yeah, sure. Thanks.’

My pace slowed as we stepped inside, my gaze drifting, searching for the café, while they continued down the corridor without pausing.

19

NOW

Late August

Wednesday

My stomach dropped as I flicked the torch off again, and I rammed the phone back into my pocket.

I turned back to the screen.

Ninety-five per cent.

I yanked the USB free. The screen flashed a warning. Unsafe removal. I closed the pop-up box, exited Windows Explorer and hit control-alt-delete to lock the system.

The chair grated as I pushed it back under the desk, and I stumbled through the darkened room and out of the door.

I started down the aisle back towards the tack room, my heart pounding, my ears straining.

The heavy scrape of metal welded me to the spot. I knew that sound.

The bolt on the main door.

The tack room was still too far away.

I swung my head left and right, searching for a place to hide.

There was no time.

No choice.

I grabbed the nearest latch and slipped inside a stall, dragging the door closed behind me and reaching over to slide the bolt back into place with trembling hands.

The main door creaked open, and soft light filtered in.

A soft huff sounded behind me.