Page 50 of The Quiet After The Fall

“That would be a crime.”

“It really would.” He tilts his head. “So Marcello’s.”

“Marcello’s,” I confirm, and stop myself from rambling on about their homemade garlic knots or that it’s been family run for fifty years.

He picks up his guitar case and slings his duffel back over his shoulder. “What time do you get off?”

I know I should deflect. Rational Sawyer would give him some lie, tell him to have a great stay and send him on his way. I glance toward the coffee station again and remember how I cried for days after seeing Knox last time. How I’m trying to start fresh and that includes meeting new people. And if those new people happen to be attractive, muscular musicians then so be it.

“Ten,” I say steadier than I feel. I can’t let on that I’m trying not to vomit from nerves.

“Is there a decent bar open late?”

“Yeah, but it’s a few minutes outside of town.” I straighten a stack of papers on the desk that don’t need straightening. “The Hideaway. It’s a dive bar.”

“Perfect, I’ll meet you here at ten.” His eyes stay on me, as he extends his hand. “I’m Cody, by the way.”

I smile because I already knew his name. He told me when he checked in.

His hand is calloused and strong and I try not to think of how it would feel dragging along my skin. “I’m Sawyer…and sure. I’ll get a drink with you.”

I watch him get onto the elevator and when the doors close behind him, I turn back to my desk. The phone rings and I grab it, smiling when I say, “Good evening! Ashford Inn.” My Fuck Knox Aldrich campaign is starting to get good.

Chapter 13

Knox

I’ve been parked across the street from the inn for twenty minutes when she comes out. There’s some fucking guy next to her. I can’t see much from here, but their body language is familiar in a way that makes my jaw clench.

I watch them walk to her car. She’s not touching him but she’s not keeping her distance either. They stand there for a second, talking, and he makes her laugh—fuck, I can’t watch this shit.

I can’t look away either, even if I tried.

She gets in her car and he walks to his…a beat-up old van, the bumper covered in stickers. One of those that should have free candy spray-painted on the side.

I follow a few car lengths behind.

For a minute, I think she’s going home alone and he’s going to fuck off to another country or planet, but then Sawyer passes the turn to her apartment and this prick is still following her and I know exactly where they’re going.

I give it a little bit before I pull into The Hideaway’s lot. I park as far away from Sawyer’s car as I can, keeping to the dark end close to the dumpsters. With my Jeep being black, she won’t see it if she happens to look out the window.

I don’t get out right away. Instead, I sit there, taking a few deep breaths and letting the Bad Omens song on the radio finish.

This is nuts. I know it. She asked me to leave her the fuck alone. Changed her number. Blocked her location. But here I am, following her across town like some unhinged psycho.

Would I be here if she wasn’t about to endanger her life with some creep?

Of course. As much as I want to tell myself I wouldn’t be.

Fuck it.

I get out and go inside through the second entrance at the back of the place. It’s nowhere near the bar so people forget it’s there, except for the smokers who usually congregate when the bartender yells at them for smoking near the main entrance.

There’s an empty table near the back wall, behind a serious-looking group of old dudes playing pool. They should give me enough cover that Sawyer won’t see me. At least if I stick to the plan and stay in the shadows.

Since I can’t go to the bar, I wait until one of the servers comes around and order a beer, keeping my eyes on Sawyer the entire time. All it takes is a split second for her to look away and this creep could lace her drink. I don’t like the way he’s leaning into her. Not touching, but too close for my comfort.

The bartender slides my beer across the table and I wrap my hands around it to keep from jumping up and starting some shit.