Page 8 of No Control

I spin on my heels, ignoring Mason calling after me. I’ve spent the last half-decade of my life waiting for him to straighten up. Granted, the first few years, he showered me with affection, putting me on a pedestal and making me feel like a queen. But even then, the red flags were there in the form of gaslighting, narcissism, and physical intimidation on the rare occasion we fought. His apologies just somehow made it right in my young, naïve head, and by the time I realized it, I felt trapped. Everyone told me he would figure it out, too—that he just needed to find his place in the world.

Bullshit.

I’m tired of always being hurt, and maybe this hiccup is an excuse to finally pull the plug. He’s always been a dick to me, even if he was sly about it.

“He’s a jerk, but he loves you.”

“He might be a little narcissistic, but he’s working on it.”

The words of my family, friends, and his family reverberate in my head, but I’m done. I have my out, and I’m taking it.

Screw ‘em all. Let my family hate me.

My hands connect with the door handle creating a loud pop, and I push it open, welcoming the cold air. I head straight for my car, shoving the contract back into my bag. I’m not bending for anyone anymore—not Mason, not Henry.

“Lydia, wait!” Mason shouts as I reach the driver’s side door. “I’m sorry for saying that shit about sleeping with the guy or whatever. It was just a joke. Come on.”

I pause, turning to face Mason as he jogs toward me. “It wasn’t a joke. I want space, Mason. Leave me alone.”

“You’re kidding,” he pants as he stops a few feet from me. “You’re overreacting.”

“No, I’m not,” I say flatly.

“Come on, Lydia. You’re being so stupid right now. Every time you do this, you regret it. You know sometimes I can be crude. I don't mean it—I never do.”

I glare at him, shaking my head. “Go sleep at your own place.” I climb into the driver’s seat and grab the inside door handle. “It’s over.”

And before he can say anything at all, I slam the door.

Right in his freaking face.

four

Henry

I tilt my head as the scene plays out in the parking lot. I swear, I should’ve popped some popcorn for this. It looks like there’s some turmoil in their picture-perfect romance, and I wait patiently as her SUV peels out of the parking lot.

“What’d you do, Mason?” I chuckle, putting my car in reverse. The guy throws his hands up in the air, and I recognize the exasperation in his body language. My guess is my contract got a rise out of him.

But why? I don’t know.

And I don’t have time to chat with Mason about it—nor do I want to. I need to tail Lydia, and from the way some of the restaurant staff has joined Mason in the parking lot, it looks like he still has a bill to pay. I drive right by the chaos, half-tempted to wave at the asshat.

But I don’t.

Lydia is moving.

I punch in the coordinates of her house, already knowing where she’s headed as she takes the exit onto the turnpike. Again, I don’t want to cause any unnecessary fear in her right now. I’ll have to be extra careful in this pursuit, and for that reason, I keep a solid distance between us. If I scare her too much, I might have to resort to much less amicable terms than those in the contract.

And I’d hate to do that.

But I will if I have to.

Lydia Waters is the answer to the question I’ve been asking myself since I survived the night my parents were murdered. After reading her books, I wanted to solve the mystery of who she was, feeling like she wrote the same man in every single book. He might take a different dark twist, kink, or scenario, but regardless, I see myself on the page—and I want to know why.

I mean, is the woman manifesting me? Could someone actually want me?

But then the more I dig into her, I get lost in the complexities of the way she hides herself from the world, covering her tracks like someone is out to get her. And when I finally saw that face in person tonight, I just…

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