Page 27 of Marc

I could help at Dad’s office.

He texted a couple of days ago saying he was making a list of things for me to repair.

But the gym will help burn the lust burning inside of me. Not to mention, it will help me maintain my form. After all, my fit body is my money maker right now.

If what Staci told me comes to fruition, then I will be busy with photoshoots in the future.

And hopefully Staci will be my solo photographer.

With the pros outnumbering the cons, I decide to stick to the plan. I back my car out of the parking spot and steer the car towards the other side of town where my preferred gym is.

Halfway to the gym, I see the all too familiar pickup truck of Staci’s ex-husband following close behind me.

Looking in the rear-view mirror, I watch as his hands tighten around his steering wheel. His eyes are narrowed on me like he wants a confrontation.

That is the last thing I should entertain, but it would be nice to give him a piece of my mind.

Especially with Staci not being around, he wouldn’t be able to intimidate her or try to coerce her to take him back.

A growl forms in my throat at the thought of her taking him back.

She deserves someone better than him.

I take a right turn, hoping it is just a coincidence that he is following me.

He turns right behind me.

It still could be a coincidence since this is the way to downtown.

Trying a different tactic, I slow down until the stoplight turns yellow. I take a left turn just as the light is turning red.

Staci’s ex-husband runs the red light to follow me down a one-way road.

It’s clear that he isn’t going to stop following me until I get to where I am going.

I don’t want him to know which gym I prefer or where I live, so I head towards Staci’s house. When he realizes where I am going, he pulls back until he is two car lengths behind me.

Parking on the curb in front of her house, I watch as her ex slowly drives past me and turns around in the cul-de-sac.

He parks two houses down across the street, rolls down his window, and turns off his truck.

Ignoring him, I get out and walk around my car to check Staci’s mail. I grab the handful of envelopes and sales flyers and make a mental note to give it to her later.

If this douche is going to keep violating the restraining order by coming around, then at least he will know that I come here, too.

I open the driver’s door and toss the mail onto my passenger seat, wondering what his next move will be.

Should I message Staci and let her know to be careful coming home since he is here?

Should I leave and see if he follows me?

Or should I just confront him and see where things go?

The loud squeaking of his truck door opening causes the few birds nearby to stop chirping. He gets out of his rusty pickup truck and slams the door closed.

I guess I can stop wondering what his next move is going to be.

He stalks towards me with his lips in a tight, thin line, like a man on a mission to confront me.

---