Beastly: Sequel to "Mr. Perfect"

Chapter 34: Moving Companies and Trespassers

✨Evan (P.O.V.)

Faith's eyes didn't blink as she stood there, waiting for me to say something.

I looked for a second too long, then dropped my gaze and clenched my jaw.

With Brittany being at the center of everything, I'd like to keep Faith away from all of it, but I probably should have gotten my mom on the same page as Jake and me about this.

Before I could make up my mind, Jake's voice came from behind me

"Evan—we gotta go."

I turned and saw him standing in the doorway, one hand gripping the frames, eyes serious.

I met his gaze and knew immediately.

He didn't need to explain, as we'd been waiting for this lead—days—something that could finally give us a name, an address, a trace of the person behind the threatening phone calls Dave Owens has been getting.

I gave Jake a quick nod and turned to leave.

"Evan, wait," Faith said, stepping forward. "What about me?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed.

"Why are you getting annoyed?" I chuckled.

"How do you think I'm getting home?" she asked. "You said you'd drop me off at campus to get my car."

Right.

Her car was still parked in the campus lot.

I forgot.

Of course, I forgot.

"Evan," Jake said.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Call Rashida," I said quickly. "Ask if she can pick you up."

Faith's eyes widened.

"Evan, I don't know if she—"

"I love you, and I'll see you later," I said quickly, leaning down and pressing a fast kiss to the top of her head.

Jake and I moved fast, rushing out of the house.

As we climbed into Jake's car, the weight of the conversation I just walked out of was still heavy on my shoulders.

Faith's face lingered in my mind as I dragged the seatbelt across my chest and snapped it into place.

Jake pulled his phone out of the cupholder and unlocked it as he backed out, the GPS screen lighting up.

A route appeared, and the automated voice chimed in.

"I got an address, but it wasn't easy," he said.

I turned toward him.

"What did you find?" I asked.

"The owner of the building," he said, shifting into drive.

That snapped me out of my daze.

"You found the building owner?" I asked.

"Eventually," he said. "The Property management company wouldn't give me a thing. I tried every angle—polite emails, follow-up calls, and even showed up in person. But they kept telling me they couldn't give me anything because ownership information is confidential and they can't disclose it without a legal request."

"Yeah, figures."

"So I didn't push it. The last thing we need is to raise alarms on this matter."

I nodded slowly.