And like that, she was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Thirteen years ago …
Julia rushed out of the house, winding the scarf around her neck as she went. She’d managed to forget hers when she left her student apartment that morning, so Marissa had offered her one from the laundry to ward off the intense, biting chill taking over the afternoon as evening swept in.
It was that time of year when the darkness came so much earlier it was practically chasing the day away. When just months before, the same hour could have been spent sitting on the front porch talking to neighbors, now it was dark enough to trigger streetlights and usher people home with a faster step.
She was regretting lending her car to her roommate that day as she scurried down the sidewalk, then made a diagonal slice across the street to cut time off getting to the next block. Pulling the scarf closer, she burrowed her ears down into the folds and popped the collar of the coat up to create another layer to block the wind.
The ride she’d depended on hadn’t materialized. Not that she should have been all that surprised. It felt as if it was a toss-up whether he would actually get there when he said he would, or if she would stumble on another post that would read as mundane and all but meaningless to anyone else, but she knew contained a veiled message to her.
It wasn’t as if he could just come right out and post what he wanted to say to her. He couldn’t leave her a comment or tell the world he was planning on picking her up. He had to weave it into complaints about last-minute work or getting stuck in traffic.
He could pick up the phone and call her, but apparently that was beyond him.
She tried to be understanding. He had a lot going on and it wasn’t easy to juggle it all. Especially at this time of year. She just had to be patient. But it was getting harder.
Beside her, a low brick wall crisscrossed with barren vines sectioned off a small pocket park. Come spring, those vines would explode with pink and white roses, and warm weather would draw young families from the houses out into the grass and onto the playground.
For now, the equipment stood abandoned. Every now and then, the wind caught one of the swings at just the right angle to make it sway. In October that would have been delightfully creepy. She would have giggled over the ghost playing on the playground and enjoyed that little bit of tingly chill that came even as an adult.
But now, with the hint of Christmas lights on nearby houses just barely grazing the chains and reflecting against the curved plastic of the slide, it just felt sad.
Instead of thinking about that, she imagined the roses. Her fingers jumped just a little when she shoved them deep in her pockets, as her fingertips remembered reaching out and running along the velvety petals. The days had been so much easier back then.
Julia was so lost in her thoughts about those spring days, she didn’t notice the footsteps behind her until they were so close they sent a spike of fear up her spine. Whipping around, she turned to press back against the brick wall.
It didn’t offer her much protection. It was only up to her waist. But it gave her something to grasp.
“Jeremy, what are you doing?” she demanded, the words forcing breath that had lodged in her lungs out of her throat to billow in the cold air.
“I just want to talk to you,” he said.
She shook her head and started down the sidewalk again. “Go away, Jeremy. I told you to leave me alone.”
“Julia,” he said, chasing after her and taking hold of her wrist to stop her.
Julia spun around and wrenched her wrist from his hand in the same movement. Her eyes narrowed to glare at him. “Don’t you dare touch me. Never again are you to even consider touching me.”
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
She scoffed. “Are you seriously asking that question?”
“I just wanted a minute. Just give me one minute to talk to you. I need to explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. I don’t want you anywhere near me. I told you that. Go away,” she said.
She picked up her pace as she continued down the sidewalk. She didn’t want him to see her running. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he could still get under her skin. But she didn’t want to linger on the same block with him any longer than she had to. If she could just get to the bus stop, there would be other people there. She wouldn’t have to be alone in the dark with him.
The minute it took to get around the corner and down the block felt as if it was repeating itself over and over, but finally she made it to the slick green bench and was able to sit, sagging under the weight of how much he startled her.
There were two other people at the bus stop, but that didn’t stop Jeremy from following her. He came around the corner at a casual stroll, his hands down in his pockets and his eyes focused ahead of him as if there was nothing in the world for him to hide from. Nothing to be ashamed of.
When he got behind the bench, he leaned down so his mouth was close to Julia’s ear.
“Don’t forget, Julia. I know. Don’t you think people are going to figure it out?” he whispered.
The bus pulled up and he walked away.
“Are you okay, honey?” an older man who had been standing beside the bench asked. “Was he bothering you?”
Julia looked at him and shook her head. “No. I’m fine. I know him.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
She nodded, forcing a smile. “Thanks. I’m really okay.”
By the time she
