Page 129 of Chasing After You
I lift my hand up to block my eyes because I can’t see a goddamn thing, and that’s when loud honking causes enough of a distraction for me to push through. Wilson’s pulled his car out of the garage, waving me in, and not a single person dares to step onto my property.
Wilson enters the house a minute after me, and I breathe heavily as I reach for my water bottle on the counter, swishing the taste of bile from my mouth. “What the fuck is going on?” I ask, and he shakes his head.
“See for yourself.” Wilson unlocks his phone and hands it to me.
It’s an article about Mirabelle and me, but I’m not sure how that warrants the insanity outside. There’s a mature content label, and I look at him skeptically, but it’s the grim expression on Wilson’s dark features that spikes my anxiety. I scroll, skimming past the words detailing our relationship, but my heart stops fucking beating when I get to the pictures of Mirabelle naked in my backyard swimming, and more through the back windows, sitting on my couch in my jersey with a glass of wine in her hand. I feel nauseous, my blood boiling as scrolling further leads to more pictures of Mirabelle and I having sex in the pool. I turn the phone off, unable to look at the invasion of our privacy any longer.What the actual fuck?
Oh my god, she was right. The pictures of her in the house are from when we played the Denver Blizzards. Mirabelle said she thought someone was in the backyard so she went out to look, and this is proof there was someone.
I think I’m going to be sick.
I hired Tom to keep her safe, but I was the one who couldn’t keep Mirabelle safe at the one place where I should have been able to.
“How the fuck did they get these pictures?” I seethe, looking up at Wilson.
“I checked the fence line. There’s a few boards by the tree in the back that come loose to create a hole big enough for someone to squeeze through. Because of where they got in, I’m not sure the cameras will have captured who it was,” he says, his voice shaking with anger. “I tried getting ahold of you, but you left your phone.”
I barely carry my phone on me anymore.
What’s the point?
“Can you call the security company to ask them to check the dates we were in Denver?”
“You think they came while we were out of town?” he asks, and I drag a hand over my face.
“Mira said she thought someone was in the backyard then. It’s why I hired Tom for when I couldn’t be with her,” I explain briefly, heading upstairs to find my phone.
Fuck, I need to call Mirabelle. She’s probably so far from okay, but I’m hoping she’s with her family at the beach house. Kaitlyn let it slip in our conversation a few days ago, but she—like everyone else—clammed up when I tried to ask questions.
My phone is still plugged in, sitting on my nightstand where I left it earlier. The screen is lit by a steady stream of notifications, but one name stands out above all the others.
It only rings for half a second before the line clicks. “Is Mira okay?”
“Why the fuck haven’t you answered your phone?” JJ snaps back at me, ignoring my question.
“I was out for a run, and I left my phone,” I say, trying to keep my temper in check. “JJ, she’s at the beach house, right?”
Please let her be at the beach house.
“No, she’s not here. Why the fuck do you think I’ve been calling you? Mira drove back to Charlotte last night for a meeting this morning, and she won’t answer anyone’s calls. Please, can you check on her?” JJ didn’t have to ask. I’m already halfway down the stairs again, swiping my keys off the hook by the door to the garage.
“I’m leaving now.”
“We changed the code to the house: zero-eight-one-one.”
The line beeps with another incoming call. I quickly decline it as I commit the code to memory, laying on the horn to scatter everyone blocking my driveway.
“I’ll be there in a few,” I promise, and there’s yelling in the background on his end. “How are your parents taking it?” I ask, even though I already have a pretty good idea.
“Dad’s been yelling at whoever he’s on the phone with for a while now, trying to get the pictures taken down, but they’re everywhere. Mom’s on the phone with the lawyers, trying to send out cease and desists.” JJ pauses and then scoffs in disbelief as Stacey calls again. “Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck were you guys thinking?”
“JJ, we were on my property—”
“Yeah, that wasn’t your best idea in the first place, but I’m talking about the audio recording that just dropped on social media of you two fucking in the backseat of a car.”
“We weren’t fucking,” I say, as if that makes what we did any better. I paid the guy to stay quiet, but I never thought he could have recorded the audio. I should have used common fucking sense.
“Sure not what it sounds like, but whatever you say,” JJ says, and I speed up. “Have Mira call me, please.”
