Page 52 of Roses in Summer

“Wait.” He reaches out, grabbing my arm just as I turn. “Does Mitch know you’re back? I’m sure he’ll be happy as hell to see you.”

My eyes widen, fear and disgust fighting for supreme emotion. Mitch should have absolutely no knowledge of my whereabouts. But now, because I ran into Chris Kopicki, he will have the intimate knowledge that I’m here. My blood turns to ice at the notion.

Ripping my arm from his hold, I shake my head, not bothering to answer his question. “Good seeing you, Chris.”

I don’t care if he’s watching.

I run out of the building as though it’s on fire.

—

My hands shake as I start my car, making me worry I might back into a pole as I reverse from my parking spot. Chris’s disgusting smile and dead eyes play on repeat in my mind, and I bite my lip to keep the tears at bay.

Maybe I’m overreacting, but there was something about his face and his tone that made me so uncomfortable, so completely repulsed by his presence, and I can’t shake the feeling of dread that settles low in my gut. Releasing my lip, I grip the steering wheel tighter and put on my blinker, pulling over on a side road a few blocks from my apartment.

Picking my phone up from the center cupholder, I dial my brother’s number, ten digits I’ve memorized over the years, and wait for him to answer. People talk about twin bonds, the twin telepathy that seems to exist among siblings who share a womb at the same time. It’s not exactly like that with us.

I don’t know what he’s thinking all the time, nor do I have some spidey sense that alerts me as to when he’s in pain or in trouble. More than a twin or a brother, he’s my best friend and the only person I know who can speak to me rationally and—hopefully—assuage my fears.

“Ser, what’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be in your interview right now?”

Shutting my eyes, I lean my head against the headrest and sigh at his voice. “Rafe, I saw Chris.”

“Chris who?” His voice is sharp, and I know that he knows exactly who I’m referring to.

“Kopicki.”

“Fuck. What did he want?”

I shake my head as though he can see me. “He was in the Marymount library. I have no idea why he was there, but he had a backpack, I think. Do you think he’s a student there?” I try to recall the image of him in my mind, and I vaguely remember a backpack strap digging into the side of my face when he pulled me in for a hug.

“Seraphina, I need you to listen to me. He cannot hurt you, okay? He will not hurt you because if he or Mitch, or one of those assholes from high school, even try, I’ll kill them.”

A disbelieving laugh bubbles out of me at my brother’s statement. “You’re a cop, Rafael. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Rafe sighs on the end of the line, his frustration ringing clear. “I will make sure none of those fuckers ever come near you again. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about what Mitch or Chris or any of those assholes did. I may not have been able to do much about it then, but trust me when I say that their time will come.”

“I don’t want anyone getting hurt because of me, Rafe. And I don’t trust Chris. I can’t explain it, but the moment I realized it was him, I felt like running away, running to something safe.”

“And where do you feel safe, Ser?”

An unwarranted image of Lincoln pops into my mind. I look down at my clenched hands and slowly relax them, hoping that the picture in my head releases too. “I don’t know, Rafe, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. Anyway, where were you on Friday? You were supposed to meet us at Garganello’s,but you never showed up.”

“I don’t like this, Seraphina. Have you told Mom and Dad yet?” Rafe asks, ignoring my question about his whereabouts last Friday.

“No, you were my first call. I’ll tell them this weekend when I see them, but I also don’t want them to panic. You remember how bad it was when I first filed the report.” I pause, bringing my thumb to my mouth and biting down on my nail. My parents tried to keep me home—to delay my freshman year—after I filed both a report and a restraining order against Mitch. Part of me understood that they were terrified of something happening to me while I was away, especially since Ava had almost been killed at Marymount months prior. But after deleting all of my online presence and changing my phone number, I couldn’t bring myself to remain in that godforsaken town, hiding from the same people I once attended parties and social gatherings with. I needed a new start, and while it was hard convincing my parents that leaving was the only possible option while they wrapped up their document review and the police looked into Judge Abernathy and his family’s personal and professional dealings, I succeeded. I worry that telling them about Chris will cause hysteria, but I also don’t keep these kinds of things to myself anymore.

The miscommunication trope died with my old life, my old number, and my ex-boyfriend.

Shaking my head, I clear my throat. “And you never answered my question. Where were you on Friday?”

“Work stuff,” he grumbles, his tone changing from fierce and protective to dismissive. “How was it?”

I let his avoidance slide since I’m doing the same thing after telling Rafe about the initial shock of seeing Chris. “It was… good?” I hesitate, saying the statement as a question rather than a fact. “All of Ava and Grey’s friends were there.”

“How was it seeing him?”

I don’t have to ask to whom he’s referring. Rafe knows almost every detail about my past feelings with Lincoln Simmons. I don’t even bother pretending ignorance. “He has a girlfriend now, did you know that? She must be a model or actress or something because she’s stunning. And tall. I looked like a child compared to her.”

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