Page 94 of Blocked Score

Now I realize it’s him. Her ex. Caleb.

He was stalking us while in Chicago, before he broke into her house and stole her phone, then sent those messages that robbed me and Scarlett of a year and a half together.

Anger is already simmering in my blood—but when Scarlett gets up from her seat and walks past him, and he reaches out and dares to wrap his grubby hand around her wrist, my rage passes the boiling point.

My eyes are narrow, hostile slits and my jaw is set hard as steel as I fling the door of the café open and march to their table.

I clamp my grip around his wrist, so hard that he sucks in a sharp breath of pain and immediately lets go of Scarlett.

My eyes burn on him when I twist my grip and lift him up from his seat. I could break his wrist, but I don’t give a shit. Let him call the police, file whatever fucking charges he wants. Right now, all I care about is sending a message.

I twist his wrist in a way to make him angle his body so our eyes are locked.

“If you ever even contact my girlfriend again,” I grit out, my voice tight and sharp, “I’ll detach this arm from your body.” I give it another twist, causing him to gasp in pain again. “And if youtouchher again …” I shake my head, eyes burning like red coals in my skull, “you’ll fuckingwishthat a missing arm was the only thing you had to worry about. Now, since I don’t want my girlfriend to even have to hear your voice again, nod if you understand me.”

He wastes no time wagging his head up and down.

“Good.” With one last wrench, I release my grip. “Now get the fuck out of here.”

After he scurries out of the café, I wrap my arm around Scarlett’s shoulders and pull her close. Glancing around the room, I find every pair of eyes on the café trained on us.

“Alright, show’s over, everyone,” I announce. Most have the decency to turn away.

“Are you okay?” I ask Scarlett once we’re outside.

She nods. She’s a little taken aback, but I can read in her eyes she’s okay. I’m not surprised. I know how strong she is.

“Yeah, I’m fine. He found me on campus after my last class. I figured I’d give him one last chance to get whatever he had to say off his chest, and then I told him if he ever contacted me again, I’m going to the police over what he did.”

“Good,” I answer. Really, he deserves for that to happen anyway. But if letting him get away with what he did in Chicago is the price to pay to be rid of him forever, fine. “You sure you’re alright?”

She smiles that confident, strong smile that makes my heart twirl. “Totally fine. Let’s go home.”

Home. I’ve been living in that house for four years now, but it’s never felt so much like a home as it does now, thanks to her.

A couple days later,when I come home after the day’s classes, I see Scarlett’s shoes by the door.

Realizing that the rest of the house is empty, I close the door behind me as quietly as I can and slip my feet out of my shoes, trying not to make a sound. I want to silently climb the stairs and surprise her in her room.

Seems like it would be a good prelude to an afternoon quickie. Since the other guys are out, I figure we should take advantage of the occasion to make as much noise as we want.

It’s only when I’m at the second to last step leading to the second floor landing that I realize Scarlett isn’t alone in her room.

My lips tilt in disappointment when I hear the voice of her friend Harper as they’re chatting in there. But when I pick up on what they’re talking about, my heart clenches.

“People make long-distance relationships work all the time,” I hear Harper say. “And it’s not like Lane won’t have the money to fly out to see you all the time. And, like, I don’t know anything about pro hockey, but I imagine he’ll be playing in the Northeast a lot.”

I don’t want to eavesdrop, but there’s no way I can stop myself from listening.

“Buttwo years, Harper,” Scarlett answers. “I mean, at least two years. After I graduate, I still have law school. Maybe if I went to Stanford, it would be easier, but come on, I can’t bet on that.”

“I’ve seen Lane around you, and I’ve heard your story. He carried a torch for you for a year and a half, all the while thinking you broke his heart but never falling out of love with you. You think he’d lose interest just because of distance during the season?”

“Is he reallyin lovewith me though?” Scarlett asks, a note of uncertainty in her voice. “He hasn’t said it.”

It feels like my chest splits in two.

She’s right, and instantly I’m so mad at myself I could ball up my fist and break my own nose right on this stairway.

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