Page 41 of Doyle

As we sat down to eat, I felt hope rise inside me. Maybe, we could get through this mess on our own, even without Doyle’s help.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

MICHAEL

“Dad, are you awake?”I asked, knocking softly on my father’s bedroom door.

No response, just his loud, familiar snores.

I peeked inside and saw him sprawled out, sleeping soundly. Deciding to let him sleep a while longer, I headed downstairs.

In the kitchen, I made breakfast, setting aside a portion and covering it with cling wrap.

I left a note on the counter: “Dad, went to work early. Breakfast is in the kitchen. Love, Michael.”

I glanced out the windows, scanning the street for any sign of the brown car that had been stalking me.

Satisfied that it wasn’t there, I grabbed my jacket and headed out. It had been three days since I found Liliana’s letter in my letterbox.

Since then, my dad had been in overprotective mode, driving me to work and picking me up when our shift was over.

Last night, I finally convinced him to go out drinking with Stan and his other buddies.

We both needed a break from each other, and nothing happened to me last night, right?

So, it should be safe to walk to work alone this morning, open up the shop early, and maybe catch up on some paperwork.

As I walked, my phone beeped. Seeing Doyle’s name on the screen made my heart skip a beat. A text from him.

I wanted to respond immediately but stopped myself. After our last painful conversation, maybe he was right—we needed distance.

A part of me was still unfairly mad at Doyle for suggesting it, and maybe I was avoiding him to punish him a little.

It was childish, but it was what it was.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket and quickened my pace. The early morning air was cold, and the streets were quiet.

The calm was deceptive, though. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

Every rustle of leaves, every distant car engine, set my nerves on edge.

I turned a corner, keeping my eyes on the sidewalk ahead. The shop was just a few blocks away. I could make it. I had to make it.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed again. Another message from Doyle. My resolve wavered. What if it was important?

What if he had news about Liliana? I stopped in my tracks, debating whether to read the message.

In that moment of hesitation, I heard footsteps behind me. Quick, purposeful.

My heart raced, and I spun around, but the street was empty.

My paranoia was getting the better of me. I forced myself to keep walking, picking up the pace.

The shop’s sign came into view, a small comfort in the growing unease.

I reached the door and fumbled with the keys, glancing over my shoulder one last time.

The street was still empty. No sign of anyone.

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