Page 109 of What Hurts Us

I had played the scenario repeatedly in my mind. Each ended with the man—now known as Patrick Stubbs—slitting my throat. I resorted to cross-stitching—badly—to silence the strange guilt.

Grappling with the truth had the tendency to both hurt and heal.

“Motherfucker,” I grumbled as I stabbed my finger again. I slammed the hoop onto the table. The needle made a fainttinkas it bounced across the wood.

I slumped into the seat and stared at the half-assed mind-numbing task.Coffee,I thought as I stared at my empty pineapple mug. It would be my fourth cup, but who cared?

I dumped an obnoxious amount of grounds into the filter and punched the brew button. As liquid happiness started to spit into the pot, my phone buzzed.

It was probably Cal saying he was on his way back, Gran calling to summon me to her house, or my mother checking on me for the ninety-eleventh time.

But what I didn’t expect was to seehisname on my caller ID.

Chase Brannan.

“Hello?” I said as I trapped the phone between my ear and shoulder. I dumped a spoonful of sugar into my mug and waited for the pot to finish.

“Hey, Layla.” Holy shit. It wasn’t a butt dial.

My heart did all sorts of weird things when hearing his voice. There was comfort and friendliness, but the hurt that had been there when I left him in Beaufort had dissipated. There was gentleness in the way he spoke.

“Wow, um, hi,” I said as I bobbled the coffee pot. “How’s it going?”

He chuckled. “That’s actually what I was calling to ask you.” There was a pause. “Austin Hale dropped by the bar today and told Bridget what happened to you. Said he was visiting his sister and saw you. I, uh… I just wanted to call and see how you were coping.”

There was no sense in lying to Chase or putting on a happy façade. “I’ve been better, but I’m doing okay.”

“You got someone there to stay with you? You shouldn’t be alone.”

I laughed. “Go on—ask what you really want to know.”

He snickered. “Hale may have mentioned afiancé.”

“Did he now?” I mused as I filled my mug and wandered to the couch. “What a snitch.”

“So, it’s true?”

“Yeah, his name is Callum.”

“Got a last name? Want me to run him through the system? Make sure he’s a good guy?”

I laughed. “You’ll probably be able to find a lot. He’s a cop, too. Apparently, something about me screams, ‘I need a cop to be in a fake relationship with me.’” It was ironic. I had left one cop who pretended to be my boyfriend to help me out of an uncomfortable situation, landed in a new town, and pretended to be engaged to another cop to get him out of an uncomfortable situation.All while saying I’d never date another cop.

I needed to stop sayingnever.

“It’s good to hear you’re happy. You deserve it.” Chase said. “Just promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“Talk to someone. Whatever you’re going through, talk to your fiancé, talk to a therapist. Treat yourself with care, okay?”

Warmth bloomed in my stomach. “Okay.”

After a quick update about his relationship with Bridget, we hung up. It was an odd feeling to realize that the world I’d left continued spinning in its own way while I made my home somewhere else.

But moving on isn’t always a bad thing. Life changes whether you’re ready or not.

The front door opened, and Callum strode in. “Hey, honey.” There was a tiredness in his eyes.

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