Page 53 of Middle Ground

I tear at the corner of the sleeping bag, upending it, and another handful of photos come flying out. They’re all of Meyer.

While we stood on her porch having that conversation, someone was out here taking pictures of her.

“That is beyond fucked up,” Wells says, looking over my shoulder. His words are coated in anger.

I take a deep breath, swallowing the bile that has risen in my throat. Whatever sick bastard is doing this is going to live to regret ever setting eyes on her. That’s a promise.

I can’t stand looking at the site anymore, so I push through the trees and start back toward the inn. Wells trails after me, but he’s quiet this time. I have no doubt our conversation from earlier isn’t finished, but I’m thankful he’s leaving me be for now. I have more pressing matters to attend to. Like telling Meyer she’s being stalked.

How do you even start a conversation like that? Fuck if I know. This isn’t something life prepares you for.

Inside, I find Meyer in the middle of the restaurant. She’s laughing with a family at one of the tables—the same table I was sitting at when I met her. This stops me in my tracks.

When she parts ways with the group, she heads for the exit, right toward me.

Wells pats me on the back as he makes a beeline for the bar, smiling in Pippa’s direction. The redhead can’t contain her blush at the attention.

“Everything okay?” I ask Meyer, jerking my chin toward the table at the back of the room.

She waves off my concern. “Oh, yeah. They just remembered me from last year and wanted to compliment me on how well their stay is going.”

We walk back to the office in silence. I know I need to say something, but I can’t get my mouth to form the words. She keeps looking at me, brow furrowed in confusion over my unusual demeanour.

Once the office door is shut behind us, Meyer starts rummaging through the filing cabinet, and I stand there like an idiot, staring at her. I knew this wouldn’t be easy, but shit, it’s harder than I thought. Her inevitable reaction sits heavily on my chest.

The last thing I want to do is hurt her. But I can’t keep this to myself. Until the police are able to catch the person behind this, she needs to know to be on guard.

“Ellison, I need to talk to you about something,” I eventually say.

“Can it wait?” she asks. “I need to?—”

“No.” The singular word comes out more forcefully than intended. I clear my throat. “Sorry, but no. It can’t wait.”

She abandons the file she was looking for and turns to face me. “What is it?”

I look down at the photos clutched in my hand. I probably shouldn’t have taken them. When we tell the police about this, they’re going to want them as evidence, I’m sure.Now, my fingerprints are all over them. But I can’t seem to let them go.

“When you and Pippa left, Wells and I went outside to talk. Something in the tree line caught my attention, so I went over.” Meyer looks wary, like she has no idea where this is going but knows to tread lightly anyway. I swallow. “I found a set of binoculars nestled in the tree, pointed toward your cottage, and a few photos of you on the ground.”

“What? I don’t—” She shakes her head. “What are you saying?”

“I think someone has been watching you, Meyer.”

With a shaking hand, she takes the photos I hold out to her. I watch her face as she flips through each one. She goes through a myriad of emotions in all of twenty seconds.

“Why?” Her voice comes out weak, but from the look in her eyes, I can tell she wants to rage. “Who would?—?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

Silence envelops us as she absorbs my words. I want to say more, to comfort her somehow, but I’m not sure how to do that. Her jaw works as she studies the photos, and then she shoves them back at me abruptly.

“Meyer, I?—”

She holds up a hand. “Can we finish talking about this later? I just need to…notright now.”

I nod. “Of course.”

She smoothes a hand over her hair. I pretend not to notice the way it shakes. “I’m going to help Pippa in the restaurant,” she says.