Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 247(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
“Stay here,” he says in an authoritative tone as he situates me on one of my bar stools. “The alarm wasn't triggered, but I'm going to do a perimeter check just in case. I'll be right back, okay?”
I can only nod. My entire body is trembling now, my heart clenching at the sheer violence taken against my flowers.
Owen is back in a few minutes, his eyes sharp as he pulls out his phone.
“The house is totally secure,” he assures me while looking at his phone and swiping on the screen.
He brings up the app we both share, the one connected to the security system he installed. He clicks on the front porch camera view, dragging the time back a couple hours until he spots the culprit.
I gasp when I see Spencer looking directly into the camera and opening his mouth—
Owen pauses the clip, shifting the phone out of view as he looks down at me. “Just like we talked about when I installed this, Zoe,” he says in a gentle tone. “You’re under no obligation to check these feeds or watch any of this. That's my job. You have full access to everything because this is your home and I want you to have full transparency, but my job is to protect you. If seeing things like this is going to do you more harm than good, then I want you to trust me. I can watch this and make a plan. You don’t have to put yourself through it.”
I close my eyes and sigh, doing my best to get a grip on my emotions that are spiraling out of control. “I don't want to see it,” I admit, peeking open my eyes. “Does that make me a coward?”
“Of course not,” he says. “You shouldn't have to see or deal with any of this.”
“I just know my mind,” I say, shaking my head. “I'll fixate on it, if I see it. Just like the letters I've read. I'll fixate on it and catastrophize and create all sorts of bad scenarios before I have to actively counteract them…it's a whole process. I own it, it's my flaw, but if I don't have to feed the chaos, I don't want to.”
“You don't have to,” he assures me, sliding his hand along my cheek to cup it. The touch is comforting when I feel so jagged right now. “This is what I'm here for,” he says.
I swallow hard, the idea of him checking the cameras and then leaving opens a pit in my stomach.
“Can you stay?” I ask, cringing slightly. I’m desperate for him to stay for an entirely different reason than the ways I'd fantasized driving home.
My thoughts are already shifting against me, drawing up scenarios where Spencer comes back, not satisfied with only destroying my flowers.
Owen's shoulders sag. “I was just about to ask you if you'd let me,” he says. “Why don't you draw yourself a nice hot bath and try to relax? I'll clean up the porch and analyze the footage and the letter. I'll be here the whole time. I promise, you're safe.”
I blow out a breath, nodding as I slide off the bar stool, pausing just before I’m about to pass him. I give in to my instincts and wrap my arms around him, an innocent and grateful hug to express my gratitude. He envelops me in his embrace, his comforting scent wrapping around me right alongside his powerful muscles.
“Thank you,” I say. “I really appreciate you being here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” I head toward the stairs that lead me to my bedroom, but pause and look back at him.
“You don't have to clean up the porch,” I add. “I can handle it tomorrow. I'm just grateful you're here.”
“I don't mind,” he says, looking up at me from the bottom of the stairs. “You just go relax. I'll handle everything else.”
I smile down at him, heart filling with so much gratitude and admiration, I don't know what to do with myself. I linger on the stairs, gazing down at him for a few moments than is probably acceptable, but he never shies away, just reassuringly smiles up at me.
I somehow manage to break my stare and make it to my bedroom, filling up the tub in my bathroom while shedding clothes before I sink into the delightfully hot water.
After sitting for a few minutes, unable to unravel the anxiety tightening my chest, I turn on a quick meditation from one of my favorite apps on my phone, focusing on my breathing techniques as I listen to the guided meditation, allowing it and the hot water to ground me in the present.
I'm safe, I’m safe, I’m safe.
The silent mantra is easier to cling to knowing Owen is downstairs, making the statement true. The certainty settles in me, and I'm finally able to open my eyes and breathe normally as I hop out of the bath and dry off.