Page 68 of The Jealous Girl

Charlotte rolled her eyes. ‘It wouldn’t be that difficult to find out he was going.’

I let out a short laugh. ‘From whom? Those many friends you seem convinced I don’t have?’

She didn’t respond. She just stared at me, waiting.

I held her gaze, refusing to look away. I wasn’t backing down from her, not this time. Because I hadn’t orchestrated our reunion.

But—

The thought slipped in before I could stop it.

I hadn’t planned it, but I hadn’t resisted it either.

If I’d truly moved on and not been waiting for him, would he have been able to step back into my life so easily?

And, for all his promises that things would be different this time, had anything really changed?

We still had the same feelings.

The same challenges.

And the same people who always seemed to find a way between us.

25

NOW

Late August

Wednesday

The doorbell chimed, the sound loud and clear even from the doorstep. I shifted on my feet, suddenly nervous.

It had felt so simple when I left the flat. But what if Ben couldn’t help me? What if the answers were too well hidden? Too buried?

Footsteps moved inside, followed by the soft clunk of the lock turning, before the door swung open.

I blinked.

The scent of coffee hit me as a woman in her early fifties stood in the doorway, wrapped in a pale blue dressing gown, a steaming mug in her hands. Her brow creased as she looked at me. ‘Yes?’

Her gaze flicked over me, lingering over my clothes, my hair. I glanced down, suddenly aware I hadn’t showered or changed. I was still wearing the black leggings and hoodie from last night.

‘I…’ My voice faltered. I ran a hand through my hair, attempting to straighten it. My fingers snagged on something.

‘I’m looking for Ben. Ben Baxter,’ I finished hesitantly, tugging at the knot.

Something came free, and I looked down at the thin piece of hay in my hand. My stomach dropped as I glanced back up, meeting her bewildered expression.

She didn’t respond. She just stared at me.

I bit my lip. The payroll records for the stables were two years old. What if he’d moved?

Ben had been at uni when he worked there. Had he finished? Found a new job in a new town? New county? Was that why he’d left so suddenly?

‘Ben,’ she called over her shoulder towards the stairs.

Relief gushed from my lungs. He still lived here.