Page 54 of Middle Ground

I’ve seen their schedule for today—they have plenty ofstaff. But I can tell she needs a distraction, so for now, I let her walk out the door.

And I start to pace, thinking of all the ways I want to make this person pay.

While Meyer was preoccupied with the restaurant, I called the police constable that had been assigned to our vandalism case. He and his partner came over right away, and Wells and I showed them what we had found. Partway through our meeting, Wells got a call from work and was summoned back to the city.

He left with the promise that he would be back if I didn’t start answering my damn phone.

Hours later, I find Meyer sitting on a crate in the storage room. I hadn’t seen her in a while and that admittedly made me panic a little. But when I went looking for her, Pippa reassured me that she was fine. Logically, I knew she would be. Nothing would happen to her inside the inn. That didn’t stop my mind from wandering, though.

She groans when she spots me. “How did you know where I am?” she asks. “I try to hide and everyone keeps finding me.”

“I was worried about you, and Pippa told me to try here first,” I say.

“Snitch,” she mutters, but there’s no malice behind her words.

I pull another crate from the wall and sit across from her. Then I hold out a hand for her bottle of wine. There’s a glasssitting next to her, but it looks like it was abandoned rather quickly.

Her eyes shoot to mine, and I wiggle my outstretched fingers. “The least you can do is share.”

She relinquishes the bottle with a sigh. “You and Declan both insist on stealing my wine.”

I take a sip, letting the sweet taste settle on my tongue. For half a second, I let myself consider what it would be like to taste it on her.

“Is this what you were doing that night before you came to bang on my door?” I ask. She had the same glassy look in her eyes that she does now.

Meyer snatches her bottle back and takes her own sip. Then she lets out an adorable, irritated huff. “Maybe.”

I let a grin settle on my lips. “So that’s a yes.”

“Fine,yes.” She shakes the bottle a little. “I like to wash away my sorrows in a bottle of strawberry wine. Sue me.”

She passes the bottle back without my having to ask. “It’s very sweet,” I say.

“Too sweet for someone so bitter?”

“Well, now you’re just putting words in my mouth.” I shake my head. “I don’t think you’re bitter.”

“No, I’m just an ice cold bitch who now has a stalker and is afraid to be at work, even though it’s been the only place where she has consistently felt safe her whole fucking life.”

Then her eyes widen, like she didn’t mean to say any of that out loud. But I’m glad she did. Not because I enjoy the thought of her feeling that way—because I want to help her. I want to know what she’s thinking. I want toknowher.

I certainly wasn’t happy about coming here atfirst, but now I enjoy the time I get to spend with her. I couldn’t imagine my days without her, if I’m honest.

“Meyer.” I place a hand on her knee, and her shining eyes meet mine. “We’ll do whatever we need to do to make you feel safe here again. Just say the word.”

“That’s the problem.” Her expression is pained, like she hates having to admit this. “The inn used to be my haven. My home. Now it just feels…tainted. I don’t knowhowto fix it.”

This look on her face… I know instantly that I would do anything to erase it. To take the pain away.

“We’ll figure it out, and then we’ll do it. He doesn’t get to win.”

She swallows thickly. “What if he already has?”

I shake my head sharply. “He hasn’t. He won’t. I talked to the police earlier.”

Her eyes jump to mine then. “They didn’t ask for a statement from me.”

I offer her a small smile. “I convinced them to come back for that tomorrow. I didn’t think you’d want to talk about it with them yet.”