Come Back to Me

Chapter 8 Present Day

Stephen was now legitimately freaking me the hell out. What had started as just an annoying ex-boyfriend making some calls was now so far over the If he has a chance, he'll kidnap me and keep me in a basement line that taking Beth up on her offer to stay at her place was looking pretty damn good right now.

Speaking of, she had stepped up next to me and begun unwrapping my fingers from the receiver that I didn't realize I still had a grip on. She pulled the cord from the wall again.

"What did he say to you? You're as white as a ghost."

"I-um-I think I should go to your place."

"Of course. Let's go pack up our stuff and then get out of here." Beth stopped and took another look at me. "On second thought, I'll go pack and you can sit here."

I didn't bother trying to answer her since she was gliding out of the kitchen before I sat back down in the chair. Muffled voices followed by louder protests tried to break through my daze. It was probably Mal and Joshua being thrown out by Beth and ordered not to come back. I still refused to tell them anything about him or the level of threat he now presented. More loud noises and someone was cursing. Was that Mal's car leaving?  The only thing I could hear clearly was Stephen's threat repeating in my thoughts.

"I'll be seeing you soon, Regan."

I had thought I was safe here from him, that the possibility of him leaving Houston to track me down in Maine was just too farfetched and absurd. But he had gotten the phone number here easily enough, what was stopping him from hopping on a plane and showing up at my door?

Maybe he was only trying to scare me into talking to him. Stephen didn't really mean he'd see me soon. He had gotten pissed at me for yelling and hanging up on him so he wanted to freak me out.

Mission accomplished.

It was a waste of time to try and sort this all out and give his actions any kind of rational train of thought. Obviously, my judgment of him couldn't be trusted at all. So it was better to be safe than sorry and I would be hanging out at Beth's place until further notice.

I hated Stephen for this! He was forcing me out of my safe place, my comfort zone. And during a time when I needed it the most. Beth's house didn't have all of my parent's pictures or Riley's old soccer and science trophies; nothing I needed to see and touch to keep myself grounded – as precarious as the grounding might be.

The longer I thought about leaving my house, the angrier I began to get until sitting around like a pitiful, hungover, waste of space became absolutely intolerable. Violently shoving my chair back, I jumped from the table, ready to tell Beth to forget it, I was staying here. If that bastard dared to show up here then he'd be sorry because he wouldn't be leaving without a good ass kicking.

Maybe that was the therapy I needed. It would be fairly easy to take him down. Stephen wasn't that much taller than me and had a rangy build, like that of a marathon runner. If Beth helped, it would be laughably effortless. I was already laughing while practically skipping towards the stairs.

I noticed my purse sitting forgotten on the entryway table and grinned.

Mace.

There was a can of mace in my purse.

Now I was cackling like a maniac, rummaging through my purse and delirious enough to probably yell My Precious! as soon as my hands gripped the can. I might still be a little intoxicated.

Except there was no can of mace. Tipping the bag over and letting the contents spill over the floor to be sure, no can was uncovered.

Fishing my keys from the pile on the floor, I darted out the front door, hoping beyond hope that it was in my car somewhere.