I should crumple it up, toss it in the recycling, and not give it another thought.
Instead, I do the thing that I somehow know with certainty is going to change everything.
I open it up.
Red ink stares back at me, probably chosen for its dramatic effect.
Thought you could hide from me?
Suddenly, I’m not cold anymore.
My jaw tenses, and I clench the note in my fist. This is exactly what I had been worried about all these weeks, and part of me thought that maybe I had fooled him. That I had escaped his deadly grip.
Fear washes over me and my attention settles on our little apartment up ahead, with the one person who means the most to me tucked inside.
I slide my phone out of my pocket and scroll until I find the number I’m looking for. I scan the texts, noting the last few responses.
Since I’ve been on the East Coast, I’ve maintained one trusted contact back home. Someone to keep an eye on Franklin in case he leaves. He has many people working for him, but at this point, I think I’ve pissed him off enough that he would finish the job himself if given the chance. And that’s why I keep tabs on his whereabouts, in case I need to make a move of my own.
His note could mean several things. It’s possible that he only got wind of our relationship and has decided to provoke her. Maybe he wants to see if it can flush me out; his note could be a scare tactic to figure out whether or not I survived his attack. Or, he very well could know the truth of the situation and this could have been meant for me. He’s such a sick fuck that there’s a chance he could believe I’m dead but somehowstillwant to ruin me even after I’m gone.
Whatever his intentions, he’s aware of Claire’s whereabouts, and that alone is a big issue.
Tomorrow, I will start looking for another apartment, I’ll switch our mail over to a post office box, and I’ll do everything I can to ensure Claire’s safety while allowing her to somewhat get back to her life. The cold air cools my raging nerves as I shove the message into my pocket and walk toward our apparently very temporary home.
“Anything important?” Claire asks me once I’m inside. She’s changed into a dark green oversized sweater and black leggings. I swear that girl would look sexy wearing a paper bag.
I swallow down the truth and greet her with a lie. “Just some bills.”
Her face drops and she nods. “Maybe this week.”
I cross the space between us and tip her chin up to look at me. “It’s going to come, okay? And even if it doesn’t, we’re going to be fine. No matter what happens.”
She bites at her lip. “Yeah.”
“We’re stuck with each other, remember?” Using the words she’s used on me many times, I wink at her. I still have no fucking clue how I got lucky enough to be with Claire, but I treat each day as a blessing—especially considering my close call with death, an experience I hope I don’t have to physically relive for a very long time.
Claire stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips gently to mine. “Good.”
Every kiss feels like the first with her, sending a swarm of butterflies through me. I keep wondering if that will ever go away, but with her, I wouldn’t be surprised if it lasts forever.
My only hope is that she experiences it, too.
The love and happiness she brings me is what keeps me going. What makes me believe that despite our fucked-up situation, as long as we’re together, we’ll be fine.
We will make it through.
Even with the looming note burning a hole in my pocket.