A Fresh Start (12 page)

“Then what’s wrong with moving on?”

She shook her head in a wry smile. “You’re going to think I’m a terrible person.” She paused, then looked up at him. “I broke up with him on the night he proposed.”

“Ouch.”

“I didn’t break up with him because he proposed,” she explained. “I met him that night with the intention of breaking up with him. I’d no idea he was going to propose. I mean we had such a major fight a few days before that, I don’t know what he was thinking.”

“So what did you say?”

She lifted her hands to hide her face. “I gave the worst response.”

“Which was?”

“Oh my God, no.”

Justin laughed. “Was it in a restaurant or something?”

“It was. It was this really posh place, everyone was whispering, and I had to yell my rejection.” She shook her head, dropping her hands. “He stormed out of the restaurant after that. Can’t blame him; I embarrassed him in front of everyone.”

“Still, he shouldn’t leave you alone to deal with all the stares,” he said. “Is that why you don’t want to take your things from his place?”

“No,” she answered. “I don’t live with him. I did leave New York two days later, but it wasn’t because of him; it was already planned. He refused to picked up my calls after that, so I sort of left without saying goodbye. I did write him a letter, though. Drew met and passed it to him when he finally called.”

Justin nodded. “So how long do you think is appropriate before you can kiss me back?”

She bit down on her lips and turned away, but the corners of her lips curled anyway.

He held her by her shoulders, getting her attention. “I promised I won’t fish, but promise me something. If you need help, from whatever it is that you don’t want to talk about, you’ll ask me. And promise you won’t up and leave without saying anything.”

The seriousness of his tone and the sincere concern in his eyes melted her heart.
 

She drew in a long deep breath through her nose and sighed.

She’d promised Andrew that she wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone about what was haunting her. She knew Andrew was worried that she would meet with the same response she’d received over the years.

Paige didn’t know how Justin would react, but she couldn’t keep him in the dark.

“I want to show you something,” she said. “But you have to promise that you won’t tell anyone else, not even the Seymours.”

Justin narrowed his eyes. “I promise.”

They were a few minutes away from her house. She widened her steps, knowing that Justin, with his long legs, could easily keep up.

When she entered her house, she headed up to the luggage in her room.

Justin was right behind her as she took the white box out from the luggage and sat on the floor.

He stared at the box, then up at her.

She patted on the space next to her. “Do you remember asking me if I was running from something or someone?”

He shifted closer toward her and crossed his legs. “Yeah.”

“The answer is someone.” She breathed in through her nose and sighed. “It started around three years ago. I got home and got a letter in the mail. It was some sort of love letter. There wasn’t much in it, just some admirations about my looks and so forth.” Her hands ran across the lid of the box.

She pulled the box closer, saying, “The letters came once a week on the first month, then thrice a week. Three months into it, I began getting flowers along with the letters.”
 

She could almost recite all this without thinking now. Three times, she had tried reporting it to the police. Then when Andrew found out, he had drilled her over and over again on the details.

“At first, I brushed them off thinking it was a prank. Then,” she said, opening the box, “then I got these.”

She handed him a couple of envelopes.

Justin flipped open the flap and pulled out the photographs. “Photos of you,” he stated as he went through them.

“All taken at a distance.”

“You didn’t know someone was taking your photos?”

“No. Not until I got them.”

She stared at the various photos that Justin was scanning through.
 

“This guy is cataloguing your life.” He continued flipping through the photos. “There are so many; you don’t remember seeing someone around you with a camera?”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “You see all sorts of things in New York. There are so many people, so many things happening. I guess I sort of shut out my surroundings. I tried recalling exactly what was happening around me at those moments when the pictures were taken, but I can’t remember much.” She reached over and turned one of the photos over. “I went through the photos so many times, and I recorded down whatever I could remember of the photos on the back.”

“On my way to work,” Justin read the words written on the back of the photo. He flipped another over. “At bar with friends. 14 May, 8.30 p.m.”

“I began doing that when the photos kept coming. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe I thought it’d help organize my thoughts or something.”

“Why do you keep them?”

“I used to tell Drew everything, but he was still in Afghanistan. I thought I’ll keep them and show it to him when he gets home. I thought that by then, I’d probably be laughing over how paranoid I got over a stupid prank.”

Justin’s brows drew closer as he studied photos.

Another soft sigh escaped her lips as she turned back to the box. “For a couple of months, the letters and the photos kept coming. I didn’t care much for letters, but the photographs were getting me worried. I didn’t know what to do. There wasn’t any return address on the letters; I had no clue who was sending these to me. So I did what I could. Each time the florist delivery came, I rejected the flowers.” She swallowed hard before continuing. “That was when I got these.”

She took out a new stack of letters and handed them to Justin.

His brows rose as he read them. “Hate mails?”

She nodded. “I guess I pissed him off by refusing the flowers. But each time one of those letters came, another would come the next day, stating how sorry he was and to forgive him.” She gave him another bundle of letters. “Then, the letters and photos came daily. Sometimes, I got a few letters a day.”

“You didn’t report this?”

“I tried, but the police said they couldn’t do anything.” She twirled the ring on her finger. “So even though the letters kept coming and was getting crazier, there was nothing I could do.”

“Crazier?”

“Some of the letters criticize me for wearing something he didn’t like. Some of them calling me a whore for speaking to a particular guy, even if it was just some random guy on the street asking for directions.”

She swallowed and pushed him the whole box.

“Then the calls began. Sometimes it’d just be heavy breathing. Sometimes, it’d be this…this low, machine-like voice telling me how beautiful I looked in something I wore that day. Sometimes, it’d be to scream at me, telling me that I’m a bitch or a whore for speaking to guys.” She ran her hand through her hair and closed her eyes. “The calls were the worst,” she mumbled.

“It started three years ago,” Justin said. “You couldn’t find this person for three years?”

She pulled her legs up against her chest. “No. For over three years, I kept going through all this in my head. I tried thinking of suspects, I stared down everyone who walked past me, who smiled at me.”

“You didn’t tell anyone?”

She laughed dryly. “Everyone kept telling me that I was thinking too much, that I should simply enjoy the flowers I was getting.” She sighed. “I know it sounds silly, but I couldn’t go anywhere without thinking that someone was watching me.”

Justin shook his head while he perused through some of the letters.

“Cole was the only one who was supportive.”

“He was the only one who believed you.”

She nodded. “And after Cole and I got together, the frequency of the letters and the photos dropped. I thought the worst was over, but a few months later, they returned in stacks. Again, some letters telling me how beautiful I was, some stating that I’m a whore for betraying him.” She pulled out more letters from the box, showing Justin what she meant.

“This guy has serious issues. You didn’t try reporting it again?”

“Yes. But the police I spoke to refused to file a report. He said that none of the letters threatened my wellbeing.”

“So the letters kept coming. This guy never showed up or anything.”

“I wished he did. If he’d showed up in my face, then at least I’d know who I’m dealing with. But no, he never did, not in my face anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

She chewed on her lower lip, then pointed over to her luggage. “I always arrange my things in a certain way.”

A corner of Justin’s lips snaked up. “I noticed.”

“Same thing for my house. I always place my creams and all with their labels facing forward, and they’re arranged in the sequence that I’m supposed to use them.”

His smile got wider, but he was quick to remove it.

“I know. I know it’s weird, but it’s a habit. I like my things neat,” she explained. “So that day when I came home and noticed that the sequence of the jars was placed in the opposite direction with all their labels turned inwards, I knew someone touched it.” She let go of the ring and hugged her arms. “I went crazy, but Cole told me that I was dreaming, and that I probably forgot how I placed my things.”

“That guy was in your house.”

She nodded with absolution. “I don’t forget how I place my things. I never leave my things around. I’ve always arrange my things in a particular manner. Drew used to tease that I have some form of compulsive disorder. I know how I arrange my things, and someone switched it on purpose.”

“And because it was something so trivial, no one else would think much about it except for you.”

She nodded again, this time with tears in her eyes. “He was in my house. He touched my things. He could’ve been hiding somewhere inside. I couldn’t stand to stay there. I…” She closed her eyes as the words got choked in her throat. “Cole kept telling me that I was acting crazy. He told me to calm down and take the pills the psychiatrist gave me. I got so angry I yelled at him. I don’t even remember what I said. After that, I called a taxi, grabbed some clothes, and headed to the airport. I went back to my mom’s house and when she saw the state I was in, she called Drew.” She sniffed and turned away from Justin.

He shifted closer to her and wrapped his arm over her shoulders. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “This is why you left with one luggage.”

“Drew told me to make it look as if I was going on a holiday. He went home with me, stayed for a few days, and helped me prepare everything. He left a couple of days before and met me on my way here.”

Justin looked into the box and took out a bottle of pills.

“The psychiatrist prescribed that; it was supposed to reduce my anxiety. I didn’t like to take it; it made me useless. I couldn’t think properly, I couldn’t focus, and I felt faint whenever I took it.”

He dropped the bottle back into the box. “And now?”

“Now I feel like I can finally breathe again. I don’t have to look over my shoulders when I’m out. I don’t have to check my wardrobe or under my bed before I can sleep.”

“Why are you still keeping these?”

“Drew says to keep it in case I need to report it or something.”

Justin dumped all the letters back into the box, closing the lid.
 

“That’s why I can’t take my furniture here. That’s why I can’t sell off my house in New York. I don’t want to risk the person finding out where I am.”

“That’s why you don’t have credit cards.”

She nodded.

“Was that why you left Cole? Because you wanted to leave everything behind?”

“No. When I was back at my mom’s house, I realized I didn’t miss him. My need for him derived from the need of a support. I didn’t love him, I merely needed someone to stay with me so that I wasn’t afraid. I know how selfish it sounds, but I truly didn’t realize it until I was back at home, away from everything.”

“That’s why you’re feeling so guilty,” he stated.

Paige had to admit that was so.
 

“That was why you were so frightened that night when we heard the noise from downstairs.”

She nodded again.

He pushed the box away from them. “Do you want to find out who did this?”

She laughed softly. “You know a guy for this, too?” She stifled her laughter when she saw how serious Justin was. “I think Drew is working on it. He hadn’t said anything, but I know he won’t let things go like that.”

“Okay,” he said. “Do you miss your home in New York?”

“Home, for me, has always been where Drew and my mom are. So, I don’t miss the house in New York, but I do miss them.”

“You should be safe here. No one new can come into town without creating an uproar. But if anything, anything at all, makes you think that something is wrong, you call me and head over to the Seymours. Can you do that?”

She nodded, stifling another burst of laughter.

He tucked her hair back behind her ear, then ran his finger down the side of her cheeks, down along her jaw. “You’re safe now.”

She smiled at him even as she raised her finger to her temple. Talking and thinking about the letters always gave her a headache.
 

Justin gently took her hand, placing it down onto her lap. He kissed her lightly on her forehead and pulled her into his chest, his hand stroking her head and down her hair. “You’re safe now,” he repeated.

She closed her eyes and smiled, her hand reaching up to hold his T-shirt.

“Do you want me to stay and accompany you tonight?”

She shook her head again. She didn’t know what she wanted. All she knew was that she didn’t want to leave the safety of his arms.

“Do you want to stay at the Seymours?”

She loved the low, musky voice he was speaking in; so soft, firm, and assuring.

“No.”

He didn’t ask her anything else. He held her tighter against his chest, leaning his cheek against her hair.

“Tell me something, anything.” She simply wanted to keep hearing his voice.