LITMIR.BIZ

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Some of her neighbors had started plots of their own. “I also created a website for cyber stalking victims that helps disseminate information about the different laws in various states to help people protect themselves.”

      She needed a real job soon. Her website was not-for-profit, along with all the work she did for the organization she ran under her legally changed name. Her California friends all knew her as Ellie to protect her identity. She did some freelance work for her brother’s digital security company, administrative duties that didn’t have anything to do with the coursework she’d done in psychology at online universities over the years. The freelancing paid the bills, but it had always been temporary until her life was more settled. Now with her stalker in jail, she needed to consider her next steps.

      “There aren’t many people who could take a frightening experience like that and turn it into something that helps others. Good for you for creating something positive out of what you went through.” He nodded at the uniformed policeman who walked by their table. The officer must work with Sam given the Sheriff’s Department patch on his sleeve. “I hope you aren’t stuck in a motel on the edge of town because I was staying at your brother’s place.”

      “Absolutely not.” She shook her head, remembering how easy it had always been to talk to Clayton. Some of the nervousness in her stomach had eased, allowing her to eat most of her breakfast. “He knew I was going to take a motel room since I thought I might need a private place to retreat at the end of the day as I sit in on the Covington trial.” She hesitated. “Zach has gotten used to being protective of me, which is nice, of course. But sometimes I need to deal with things on my own terms.”

      Realizing all they’d done since they sat down was talk about her, she felt her cheeks grow warm. She wasn’t good with men or social chitchat.

      “Well I hope you won’t feel too crowded if I take a room at your motel.” Clayton waved over the waitress to top off their coffee mugs and thanked her.

      “You’ll be staying at the same motel as me?” She tensed, knowing she’d be getting even less sleep if that was true.

      She really did need to find a time to speak to him privately. See if she could put those bad dreams to rest by sharing the story with Clayton, who had figured in that night so prominently for her, even if he was completely unaware.

      “I was on my way to book a room since my work for Zach is done. I’m staying in town for the Hasting family reunion on Saturday and after that—” he tossed his napkin on the table and shoved aside his plate “—I’ll be heading back to Memphis.”

      “Oh.” Not sure what else to say, she gulped the fresh coffee, sizzling off a few taste buds in the process. Ow.

      “Would you rather I stay somewhere else besides the motel? Is that too close for comfort?” he asked, raising a dark eyebrow.

      Was it just her overactive imagination, or was there a wealth of innuendo in those words? Their flirtatious online chats came to mind. How many of them had Clayton actually authored? She knew for sure he hadn’t been the one to send her those last messages. Jeremy Covington had impersonated Clay online, deceiving Gabriella into meeting him out at that quarry.

      She remembered Covington vaguely from her teenage years. His wife taught at the high school and he’d been an assistant coach on the school’s football team. Since she’d learned that he was her attacker, she remembered that in his work with the football team, he would have seen her and Clayton together when they met after school near the bleachers. The football players often practiced on that field at the same time. Covington must have known enough about the fledgling relationship to impersonate Clay.

      “No. Of course not.” She wished she could hide behind her cup. She had no idea how to read him and suddenly, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. How many times had she confused his words with her attacker’s in her dreams? “Just surprised you aren’t staying at the Heartache B & B,” she finished lamely.

      “Really?” He tossed bills on the table before she could fish her credit card out of her wallet. “Time hasn’t changed me all that much, Gabby. I’m still not a center-of-town kind of guy. And outside of the B & B there aren’t many habitable choices. Which is how we’re ending up neighbors of sorts.”

      For a moment the shared smile brought her a small amount of comfort. A reprieve from memories that time had filtered, altered and amplified.

      “It’s been a long time since we knew each other.” She set her credit card next to his cash, needing to pay her own way. “The years have changed me, as I’m sure they have you.”

      Her independence had been hard-won.

      “You’re right about that. Up until last week I thought you ran away with Sam that night.” He let the waitress take both forms of payment, putting her more at ease. “Did you know that was the word on the Crestwood High School grapevine at the time?”

      “School was the last thing on my mind,” she told him honestly, flinching when a table full of deep-voiced men broke out into laughter.

      Heartache made her jumpy. Or maybe it was the upcoming trial. She really needed to see that bastard Covington in jail and move forward with her life.

      “Hell.” He hung his head for a second before giving her an embarrassed grimace. “That was an idiotic thing for me to say, and totally unnecessary.”

      “No. It’s a credit to my brother that he kept the whole story about what happened on lockdown like I asked him to. For a long time, you thought I ran away to live the party life or join the circus or...have a wild affair with Sam. I can’t resent that when that’s exactly what I wanted people to think. I was too much of a kid to realize who I might hurt by hiding the truth.”

      The waitress returned with Clayton’s change and Gabriella’s receipt, but he didn’t move to take it. He frowned at Gabriella.

      “You had to do what was best for yourself, Gabby.” He sounded fierce on her behalf. Indignant.

      “I know.” She took her time stuffing her credit card and her receipt in her purse. “But it’s strange having the truth circulating now after all this time. I have shared what happened with my support group in San Jose, but people in Heartache are only just starting to hear the truth. I’ve been back twice since it happened, and it’s certainly nothing I ever shared.”

      He leaned forward, one muscular arm braced on the table. “They’ll all find out once you testify against Covington, though, right?”

      “I submitted a written statement, but I don’t know how important it will be in the big scheme of things. I haven’t been called to testify yet since they have far more damning testimony than mine. Most of it in the form of his computer records.” Gabriella had been shocked to learn that Jeremy Covington’s wife had turned over all the computers she had access to in their home to the prosecution, but apparently the woman had had enough of his cheating and crimes. “Still, I sent a personal letter to the judge. I want to share my story.”

      “You said Covington was cyber stalking.” Clayton nodded thoughtfully. “Was he watching your movements online?”

      The question cut right to the heart of what made it so damn difficult to sit across the table from Clayton.

      Her throat dried up. Cold clamminess broke out over her skin in a panic that had everything to do with her dream world and nothing to do with the handsome and decent man across from her.

      “I—” She was at a loss for what to say. “Actually, Clay, do you mind if we catch up another time?” Her heart beat faster. She stood to leave before thinking how rude that would appear. “I’m sorry. I just remembered I was supposed to meet my friend Amy this morning. I don’t know where my head is today.”

      “Let me walk you out—” He was already reaching for his guitar.

      But Gabriella didn’t hear the rest. She’d fallen into dream mode—that place where the past and her fears mingled, growing larger than life—and she needed a breath

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