Page 107 of Most Likely to Fear Love

With a final,shaky breath, I hit send again. Michelle’s quick reply confirming the arrangement came through and that was that. I’d just set up a meeting with my ex’s other wife. And I had absolutely no idea what to expect.

HARLE

Iwasn’t sure how long I’d been on the road anymore. The days had blurred together, one highway blending into the next. I knew I’d crossed state lines more times than I could count. Driven north, then west, then back south again. I’d hit up Asheville, swung through Roanoke, taken a detour through the Blue Ridge Parkway because why the hell not. And now, here I was, parked in the Shenandoah Valley, staring out at a view that probably should have taken my breath away, if I’d had any left to take. Fuck. Talk about dramatic.

The valley stretched out before me, rolling hills that dipped and curved under the heavy sky, painted in hues of green and blue. It was beautiful, sure. But it couldn’t do what I needed it to do. It couldn’t make me forget. Nothing could.

I gripped the steering wheel, fingers flexing against the worn leather. I was so fucking tired. Tired of driving, tired of running, tired of trying to get away from something that was stitched into my chest. No matter how far I went, the ache stayed. The emptiness. The hollow feeling of loving someone and losing them. It was worse somehow, that it wasn’t because of circumstance or fate, but because of choices. Because of fear.

I’d done my best to make my peace with that. Cassidy had made her choice, and I’d respected it. But the problem was I couldn’t run from how I felt about her. I’d tried, God knows, I’d tried. But nothing worked. And sitting here, looking at the sprawling valley in front of me, I knew I was done trying. I couldn’t keep driving, couldn’t keep pretending that I could just leave her behind.

I rubbed a hand over my chest, feeling the dull ache there, the thud of my heart. I loved her. And no amount of road between us could change that.

Fuck it. I was going home.

With a sigh, I turned the key in the ignition, the truck roaring back to life. I pulled back onto the winding road, turning south, back towards North Carolina. Back towards Cassidy. Back to whatever waited for me there. Because wherever she was, that’s where I needed to be. I was such a fucking head case that even though I couldn’t have her, I couldn’t stand to be too far away from her.

Back home less thantwenty-four hours, and what the fuck was going on?

The dark sedan had been following me for the last fifteen minutes. First on Main Street, then down Oak Avenue, and now here in the supermarket parking lot. Whoever was tailing me wasn’t being particularly subtle about it.

I pulled into a spot, watching in my rearview mirror as the car with its too-dark-to-be-legal tinted windows parked two spaces down. The driver’s door opened, and a woman stepped out. She wore a gray suit, dark sunglasses, with her hair pulledback in a severe ponytail. Her posture screamed “professional,” but not law enforcement. No, this was something else.

I grabbed a cart and headed into the store, pretending not to notice her following me. But she wasn’t making it easy to ignore. Every aisle I turned down, there she was, just a few steps behind. She kept her head down, eyes on what I assumed was a fake shopping list, but she never picked anything up. Not a single can of soup or box of cereal.

By the time I reached the checkout, I was fed up. I grabbed my groceries, paid the cashier and headed outside. I could hear her footsteps not far behind, the soft thud of her boots against the tile echoing through the entranceway.

Out in the parking lot, I put my bags in the back of the truck, slamming the tailgate shut with a little more force than necessary. I glanced over my shoulder just as she reached her car. She paused, pretending to fumble with her keys.

Fuck it.

I strode over, and she straightened, her head turning towards me.

“Did Cassidy send you?” I demanded.

She tilted her head, those dark sunglasses reflecting my own scowl back at me. “Cassidy who?”

I forced myself to keep my voice calm, despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing here, or why you’re following me, but if this is about Cassidy, then let’s cut the crap.”

She hesitated for a second, her expression hidden behind those sunglasses. Then she said, “I’m just doing my job.”

“And what job is that?” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to get a read on her.

She studied me for a long moment, her head tilting slightly. Something in her posture shifted - not exactly relaxing, butrecalculating. Like she was weighing what she knew about me against what she was seeing.

“You know,” she said finally, “most men, when they realize they’re being followed, either run or get aggressive. You did neither. Just walked right into that store and let me tail you. Interesting choice.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I was just curious.”

“Maybe.” A ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Or maybe you’re exactly what my research suggested. Someone with nothing to hide.” She watched me for a moment, as if considering her options. Finally, she spoke, her tone professional but not unfriendly. “Name’s Shelby Mills. Private investigator. And you’re a hard man to pin down, Harle Robson.”

I blinked, caught off guard for a second. “Who hired you?” My mind immediately went into overdrive. Who was the only person likely to have hired her? “Cassidy?” Hope surged into my system, only to be shot down in the very next moment.

“No.” She shook her head and removed her sunglasses, revealing sharp gray eyes that missed nothing. “I don’t know anyone by that name. And even if I did, you know I couldn’t discuss my clients.”

“Right.” I studied her face, thinking hard. A PI meant someone was worried. Or someone cared enough to check up on me. Someone who’d been there when...

“Hannah,” I breathed out, watching Shelby’s face carefully.

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