Pressure Point (Point #2) (27 page)

“Something like that,” I mutter.

Suddenly, he slams on the brakes hard enough to send me flying forward. The seatbelt locks me in place, digging into my chest painfully. I let out a small yelp and turn to Blake, asking if he’s okay.

Blake doesn’t respond. His eyes are glued to something in front of the vehicle.

“No,” I whisper when I see what he’s staring at.

Police tape. Yards of yellow police tape block off the entrance to the library where I presume Zoe works. There’s a mass of police cars, some state troopers congregating out front, and…an ambulance. There’s a gaggle of townspeople huddled near a police officer, clearly distressed.

The memories are fresh in my mind, the same fear ripping through my body and eliminating every other thought in my mind. Before Blake can say a word, I’m yanking off my seatbelt and jerking the car door open. On trembling legs, I run toward the people huddled together.

“Zoe Baker!” I cry when I’m close. “Is she okay?”

A hard body collides into me from behind. Blake’s hands are shaking as bad as my legs as they cup my shoulders tightly to steady himself. An older woman with lips slathered in fuchsia turns around to speak. “She’s safe. Police questioned her and we’re waiting for her now.”

I can’t stand. Relief makes my entire body sag. My jittery knees buckle and Blake roughly pulls my back flush against his chest.
Thank God.

“What in the hell happened?” Blake spits, the fury in his voice covering up the worry.

“They won’t tell us anything yet.” The woman cocks her head back toward the police officer. Blake releases me swiftly and pushes through the crowd to the cop. His voice is low enough that no one can hear what he’s saying. Tension brackets the corners of his eyes and his body is rigid. I want to comfort him, but at this moment in time, I need someone to comfort me. Zoe’s not in my life, but I
can’t
lose her.

Blake stalks back to me, his eyes straight ahead. “Let’s go,” he barks.

I know that he’s not mad at me; the anger is how he keeps himself together, but that doesn’t make the bite sting any less. Within a few seconds, we’ve climbed back into the car and Blake roars off. Minutes later, he jerks the car to a stop in the driveway next to a gorgeous lake house. It’s a Cape Code style, white framed windows, pale gray siding, and a dark gray roof. At another time, I’d admire the architecture, but Blake leaves no room for any comment. He leaves me behind, running up the stone path and bursting through the front door. There’s nothing for me to do but follow behind. It’s strange entering someone’s house without invitation; I feel awkward and unsure of myself when I walk into the foyer.

“You’re…he didn’t…” I hear Blake speaking, but it’s not the man I’ve come to know. The unflappable Blake Campbell heaves his breaths.

From my spot, neither Zoe nor her boyfriend (Miles, according to Blake) sees me when I walk inside. I see Zoe climb out of Miles’ lap and make her way to her brother. “Blake.” She doesn’t get anything else out because he crushes her to him in a tight hug.

“There was police tape around the library, Zoe. Police tape. Took ten years off my life, thinking something happened to you again.” His voice literally wavers with emotion and it bites into me. Why isn’t he turning to me for support?
Stop being selfish. He’s terrified.

“Clinton’s gone, Blake. We don’t have to worry anymore,” Zoe reassures him from where they stand.

The weary sound as Blake exhales makes him sound more than exhausted, more like bone tired. He releases Zoe enough for her to take a few steps back and I take another few steps forward, figuring it’s time for me to show my face. I must look so out place, shifting from foot to foot a few paces behind Blake, but I don’t know what to do.

“Stella?” Zoe questions incredulously, staring at me with her jaw slack.

“Hi.” My voice is meek and hesitant. I knew it would be strange to see her again but never imagined it would be this intense.
Fudge!

“What are you doing here?” Zoe doesn’t seem mad when she asks. In fact, she sounds surprised and maybe even a bit hopeful. Maybe this will go okay, once we get everything sorted out with what in the heck happened back at the library.

“She came for your birthday,” Blake answers quickly.

And just like that, he tosses my heart to the floor and stomps it into submission.
For Zoe’s birthday? Partly. I’m here as your girlfriend.
The pain scalds me like a hot flame. Suddenly, I feel completely alone, standing next to the two people who I once felt closest to outside of my family.

“Stella, I’m glad you’re here,” Zoe offers, but it doesn’t help. My eyes fall to the ground and I keep my mouth shut. What can I say?

“Enough with the reunion,” Blake snaps. I flinch—literally recoil at the harshness in his tone. He hasn’t come to stand near me, touch me, keep me close. “Tell me what in the hell happened today,” he growls.

Zoe’s boyfriend places his hands on her shoulders, and in a calm, steady voice, he soothes the siblings. “Let’s have this conversation sitting down. Zoe’s had enough stress for today, don’t you think?”

Blake’s eyes narrow dangerously. “I wouldn’t know. Neither of you will explain what the fuck happened.”

“Settle down, Blake,” Zoe pleads. He lets out an annoyed huff and drops into an overstuffed armchair.

“Stella, join us,” she invites when she observes that I’m stalling under the archway leading into the living room. I don’t think my feet would take me toward Blake if I paid them. He’s so closed off; I’m not sure that he even remembers I’m in the room.

I know what I have to do.

“This seems like a family matter…” I trail, eyes falling to Blake.
Please ask me to stay. Please stop me. Don’t let me go. Show me that you want me around. Show me that I matter to you,
I beg him silently. He doesn’t respond, and there’s no mistaking what’s happening to me: cataclysmic heartache. My stomach lurches and I’m nauseated at the realization that he doesn’t care for me enough to ask me to stay.

Silently, I turn on my toes and creep out of the house. I shut the door carefully, as to not alert them to my departure. Blake obviously doesn’t want my disruption.

The only lucky part for me at this moment is that I’m wearing flat, comfortable sandals. No heels to hinder my escape plan. I run around the stone path on the side of the house, finding the beach. Taking a guess at which direction to go, I begin hurrying down the sand. A few minutes later, some sights from town come into view.

It hurts.

It hurts bad enough that I almost can’t breathe.

It hurts hard enough to distract me from the reunion with Zoe.

It hurts deep enough to make me wonder if I’ll ever want to be with anyone again.

Blake doesn’t want the most important person in his life to know about me.

All this time, all these small things have weighed on me—Blake not asking questions about my career or being too consumed with Zoe to realize that I need him, too. I know, I know, in the heat of this moment, he was terrified that she was hurt.
Again.
But when he found her…couldn’t he have taken comfort in me? Couldn’t he have told her that I was his girl, his Snow White,
his
?

From an earlier conversation with Blake, I know there’s a train station in town that brings tourists directly from Chicago to New Point. Blisters have begun to form on my feet by the time that I make my way to the station.

“One to Chicago,” I request wearily from the ticket teller. “When’s the next train?”

“Ah, two minutes, actually,” the man says when I offer my payment.

It’s another small piece of good timing, and I’m grateful for it. I need to get out of New Point before the crying jag starts. Because once it does, I’m not sure how I’ll get it to stop.

Blake

Zoe retells Miles and me how Clinton Smith broke out of his psychiatric hospital with a mission to find her. The fucker brought a gun with him, ready to… I can’t stomach the thought. After a confrontation with Zoe, he committed suicide. It doesn’t do anything to quell the hurricane of anger, fear, and anguish spiraling through me. I almost lost my sister
again.

Right now masking my emotions is the furthest thing from my mind. I’m fucking petrified.

Zoe shudders, shaking her head. “It’s so ugly,” she whisper. “And now he’s gone.”

He’s gone.
Is it as simple as that? Physically, Clinton Smith no longer walks the earth, but I’m not sure that I’ll ever be able to forget how I felt as a result of his quest to attack my sister.

I shoot to my feet, unable to sit still. I pace the length of the room furiously, trying to get this guy out of my system. “How did he find out you were here? I thought if you weren’t with me, this would be the safest place for you to live.”

“I am safe here, Blake. I am safe,” Zoe says strongly.

When I look her way, it’s obvious my face is a reflection of what’s tormenting me. I’m wrecked. Ragged. Broken. “Did he see you on
SportsHour
?” I ask.

“It’s my fault that the asshole host even had a picture of Zoe,” Miles jumps in.

“What are you talking about?” I growl, the urge to beat the shit out of the dick who broke up with my sister only a few days ago strong.

“Lacey, my ex-girlfriend,” Miles explains, “thought you two were a couple. She took a picture of you from that night at the bar and sent it to
SportsHour
. I’m sure she got paid, but she also wanted to break Zoe and me up.”

“What, that’s, that’s… Not really surprising,” Zoe says. She’s not upset with Miles and I know that he didn’t want my sister hurt this way. I’m telling myself that so I don’t launch myself at him.

“I’m sorry,” Miles says sincerely to my sister.

“Not your fault. It’s no one’s fault,” she tells him softly.

“That’s something else you need to explain.” I glance at their joined hands with a hint of disdain. “My sister doesn’t need some chickenshit boyfriend tying her down.”

“Blake,” she admonishes, though I can tell by her expression she doesn’t necessarily disagree.
That’s my girl.

“No, he’s right.” Miles is steady, making direct eye contact me. My level of respect for him rises begrudgingly. “It’s also something your sister and I haven’t addressed yet. Once she and I come to a decision
together
, I hope you’ll respect it.”

At my sides, my hands twitch. The guy has some respect for my sister. “Fine.” A jolt shoots through me.
Stella.
I glance over my shoulder toward the front door, worried. “What happened to Stella?”

“You practically kicked her out,” Zoe mutters.

Did I?
I wonder then realize standing there without action isn’t helping the situation. I race through the house, calling her name, opening doors, peering into rooms until I meet my sister in the kitchen with no sign of Stella.

“Where is she?” I ask, a new sense of agitation flooding me.

“Not here, apparently. You were kind of a dick; I’m not surprised that she left.”

I feel my face cloud over, wondering if she’s right. Obviously, something upset her because Stella’s not here anymore. “I’ve got to find her.” Then I’m racing outside without a second thought to Zoe’s wellbeing. She has Miles with her now.

Before I start the engine of my car, I dial Stella’s number. The phone rings and rings and rings.

No answer.

“Call Stella,” I instruct my phone through voice dial. I careen back from where I came only a little while earlier, downtown New Point. With no clue where I’m going, I drive through the few streets of downtown New Point. Stella’s phone rings again. And again. Still, she doesn’t pick up. I come to halt at an intersection when flashing lights and a ringing bell alert me to an oncoming train. I drum my fingertips on the steering wheel while I wait for it to pass.

“Incoming call from Stella Baccino,” the robotic voice of my phone announces. I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in and accept the call.

“Where are you?” I ask without preamble.

At first she doesn’t speak. If it weren’t for the soft exhalations, I would think she wasn’t there. A sharp horn honks behind me, reminding me that I’m in the middle of the street. With a curse, I park in a random lot. “Stella. Talk to me.” Shit. I don’t want to snap, but I can’t help but be harsh.

“I’m going back to the city, Blake,” she finally says. She sounds like she is in physical pain, her voice weak and cracking on the word city.

“Baby, what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” I say without an ounce of concern for my own crackly voice and the weakness it displays.

“You didn’t need me there, Blake.” The words are heavy with an emotion that I’m afraid to identify. “And I’m sorry to leave you, but I need to take care of myself. It hurts too much.”

“Stella, you’re not making sense.” I’m frustrated, and I can’t hide it in my response.

“Today was really hard for you, Blake, I get it. But I felt like you didn’t want me with you. It was like I was a stranger all over again. You were with Zoe and I was on the outside.”

The culmination of the past three days hits me at that moment. Hard. And I’m pissed with everything. Chip Conway.
SportsHour.
Clinton Smith. Zoe’s boyfriend. Stella’s not supposed to piss me off. She’s supposed to make everything better, extinguish everything that stresses me out. Except now, when I need her the most. “Really, today, Stella? Of all the days, you decide to get on my case
today
? Of all the days that you decide to be selfish, it’s today. My God, have we not been over this? I’ll tell Zoe about us. It wasn’t the right time.”

“There’s never going to be a good time,” Stella answers so softly that I can hardly hear her.

“Say whatever you’re trying to say, Stella. I’m not up for games.”

“I’m sorry.” Anguish fills her tone and a breath of remorse whispers at me. “Blake, I’m sorry it has to be today. The timing is awful, but I can’t do this anymore.”

The world around me dims. My vision blurs for a moment. It’s a shot straight to my gut. “What does that mean?”

“I can’t hide from Zoe.” I hear the underlying ultimatum. If I don’t tell Zoe that we’re dating then she doesn’t want to date me.