Page 67 of It Should Have Been You

I curse under my breath. “Claire—”

“Beth, this is Logan, Jake’s friend.” She continues, seemingly oblivious to the tension, “He might be able to help you find a place. He’s got some properties. He provides houses for some of the other women…” She stops, finally catching up as her eyes volley between us. “What’s going on?”

My mind reels, as my hands ball into fists in my pocket. Jake’s vague request earlier when he came to see me at the studio and asked if I could help a ‘friend’.

It was her.

The woman in front of me looking as if she has just seen a ghost.

Brows drawn, I spin to look at Claire, who’s looking at me like I should have some answers. I have nothing but questions swirling in my head.

My gaze returns to Beth, if only to check I didn’t imagine her. Her face is ashen, her fingers trembling as they knot at her waist.

“You two know each other?” Claire asks.

We both answer at the same time, “No.”

Because that’s the truth of it.

Beth tries to explain, “We met a long time ago. Before…” she trails off, her eyes glazing over. “I’m sorry.” As she mutters an excuse, she stumbles backward, distancing herself from us both. Her eyes, wide and vulnerable settle on the doors leading back inside. “I just need a minute.”

“Wait…” Claire begins, her voice laced with concern. But Beth has already turned, her satin dress billowing out around her as she makes a hasty retreat. The sight of her fleeing resonates somewhere inside me, stirring a strange and unsettling feeling of desperation.

I shouldn’t follow her. I know I shouldn’t.

Then why the fuck am I?

It was the familiar look of terror in her eyes that has my legs moving.

“Logan!” Claire’s voice cuts through the turmoil of my thoughts, sharp as a knife, but it barely registers. I hear her talk into the air as I leave. “What the hell is happening?”

Instead, my gaze is locked on the door that Beth disappeared through.

She didn’t just walk away; she ran.

Ran away from me.

The bitter taste of regret spreads in my mouth, and I swallow it down. It doesn’t belong here. Not now.

What the fuck am I doing?

I ask myself that over and over again as I usher my way through the crowd. I don’t chase after women… Ever.

Except her.

This scene feels all too familiar.

Jake stops me before I can leave, his hand clamped around my forearm. His eyes, normally cool and collected, dart anxiously between me and the door I was about to leave through.

“What just happened?”

“Where is she?” I ask, my impatience flaring. The image of her frightened eyes still burns behind my own, fueling my urgency.

“You know her?”

I don’t know how to explain it, so I don’t. “When you came to me today and asked if I could help a friend with a house, was it for her?”

His silence is the answer.

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