Chapter 21

Chloe

Two weeks later

"I don't know what I would have done without you, Chloe. You're a freaking miracle worker."

Yasmin sags on the stool, an obvious sigh of relief escaping her as we finish going over this latest section of her homework.

The club has been especially slow, and Dom doesn't mind if we pass the time looking things over.

"I'm happy to help." I smile, grabbing a glass to polish and occupy my hands. "I wouldn't have done well without your help not too long ago."

"Okay, fair, but who knew you'd be so good at English."

"Thanks. It's kind of my thing." I laugh a little, considering my former status as an English teacher. "I'm just glad you're seeing the fun behind Beowulf , too."

"These generals nearly killed me. You are truly a lifesaver."

Offering a sympathetic smile, I chuckle lightly.

"You would have done fine, but it's always nice to have a little backup from someone who's actually read it before."

"I'll admit the story is cool. But damn—" Yasmin shakes her head "—the language of the millennium it is not."

Yasmin closes her notebook, the grammar rules and Old English making a bit more sense for her and tucks it into her bag. She comes to stand next to me, and we look out over Opal, surveying the quiet bar.

"I can't believe you've already been here for a few weeks now. You've definitely come a long way from breaking glasses and misremembering recipes."

"I had an excellent teacher." I nudge her in the side.

"You are very welcome."

As I finish rubbing the glass that was already clean, I notice the corner of one of Ethan's letters poking out from under my register and quickly stuff it back under.

"So, how's the shitty apartment? Still no hot water?"

Yasmin smirks teasingly at me, and I shake my head with a mock smile.

"Nope, damn landlord is the worst."

I've only been over to my place a few times to switch out clothes, but I'm not lying about the water. It's still terrible.

"He cute enough to flirt with? Get his ass moving?"

I imagine flirting with Carl, the overly rotund man with questionable hygiene, and grimace. "Um, no. Absolutely not."

With a laugh, Yasmin takes a swig of the water she's stashed on the back part of the bar.

"You could always stay with me."

I put a hand to my chest with a grateful sigh. "That's so nice of you, but I'm okay. I'm already working on it."

Dom picks that exact moment to walk by, waving politely as he walks up to his office from speaking with Sean.

My eyes track his ass as he strides up the stairs, and I have to remind myself to look away.

"Oh, are you now?"

When I turn, Yasmin is smirking at me, and my brows shoot to my hairline.

"Don't get any ideas." I put my hands in front of my chest, faking a prayer. "Please."

"Too late, girlie. I've had them for two weeks. Just spill."

"Oh, Lord. I'm not getting out of it this time, am I?"

"Nope." She raises her brows at me, wagging them as I shuffle over and stand closer to her.

"He's doing me a favor. Dom's been my brother's best friend since middle school, and he could tell I was less than thrilled about my living arrangements."

"And the fact that he's over six feet of walking muscle is just a perk?"

"Yasmin!" But I can't keep up the outrage. It's too funny—and too true.

We giggle as we pretend to clean glasses, and then my phone rings. It's a local number, and I realize it's the school.

I never managed to cancel the interview; Dom forced me to go, and it actually went really well.

"Hey, I need to take this. It's about an interview."

"You can't leave me here!" Yasmin exclaims playfully. "Kidding. Go on. Get a teaching job."

I walk to the back and out the door to my car. I lock the doors once I'm inside and answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Ms. Hamilton. Good to speak to you again."

I smile, excitement and apprehension warring for control inside me. Ethan is still very much a problem, and there are still the kids to consider if I get a job at the school.

"Hi, Ms. Caldwell. Nice to hear from you, too."

"I wanted to request a second interview with you to discuss things further. We were impressed with your skills, and you really seem dedicated to helping the kids."

I sit up straight in the car seat. "Oh, that's great. Thank you. Yes, I'd love to come in."

A second interview! This is good!

"Wonderful. Does next week work for you? Still a morning time slot?"

"Yes, that's perfect." I catch something flapping in my peripheral vision and look up to see a piece of paper stuffed under my wiper. "That, um, yeah. Next week."

"Good. How does Thursday at 10 a.m. sound?"

My heart is thudding behind my rib cage, and bile crawls up the back of my throat. "That should be fine."

I can't stop looking at the note on my car.

"Perfect. We'll see you then. Have a great evening, Chloe."

"And you, Renee. I look forward to seeing you."

I hang up, knowing my tone was flat when I finished up the call.

Shaking starts up in my fingers as I get out of the car to retrieve the paper. I pull up on my wiper and snag it quickly before the wind blows it away.

Flipping it open, my trembling fingers fumbling with the edges, I read the few words scrawled across the page in that same grungy red.

Stop running, Chloe. I will find you. You can't stay with him all the time.

I suck back a sob. Ethan hasn't found Dom's place, but it's only a matter of time.

"I can't keep this up."

Feeling like I might crack in half, I take the letter and stuff it in my glove compartment with all the others. Dom's address isn't listed, and he's been taking different ways to get to his penthouse, but one of these times, our luck will run out.

I haven't told him about the letters, either.

Dom already worries so much. I can't imagine what he would do if he knew Ethan was still harassing me this much.

I can't drag down his business, his life, because I have a problem with my ex.

Seconds from another full-blown panic attack, I sit down on the passenger seat for a minute, trying to gather myself.

"I can see the parking lot, I can see my hands, I can see my car, I can see the bar, and I can see the sky."

I repeat the familiar cooldown routine, naming off things that I can hear, smell, taste, and touch. It's enough to get me feeling okay to go inside, but dread still clings to me like static.

And I'm running out of space for all the fucking notes.

My glove box is already strained, there are a few crammed under my register, and I have a purse in my locker full of all the bigger things—lipstick I threw away, a picture of us together with my eyes scratched out, and the cake topper I bought for our wedding.

Why haven't I just taken them to the clerk? This has to be enough.

But I know why. Dom is always around, and I don't want him to see all this shit. I'm going to have to find a way to go there alone.

As I walk back toward the door, Sean is there to open it up again. Ugh, of course .

"Hey, you okay?"

I smile. "Yes, sorry. I had a call. An interview."

"Oh, good. Dom was freaking out."

"I wasn't freaking out. I just said go check."

Dom is on my left at the top of the stairs to the second level. I smile up at him, rolling my eyes.

"Got a second interview for the school. Everything's fine. Go back to work."

He glares at me but then just turns around, and I can hear his office door shut behind him.

Business appears to have picked up when I get back to the bar, and I'm glad. I need a distraction because looking over my shoulder isn't a fun way to pass the time.