Page 35 of Rear View

Ryah

Xavier had insisted on lugging my suitcase up to my apartment when he’d dropped me off the next night. Just crossing the threshold was like reentering a prison. The closer we’d drawn to the city, the more that tension had crept back in. The air felt heavier, made it harder to breathe.

I wanted to go back to our hotel but I’d shoved my work aside long enough, so like it or not, I needed to dive in.

Turning on the kitchen sink, I filled a glass and drank deep. The air in the apartment was warm, my cotton fitted tank top and night shorts comfortable.

The latch turned, the front door creaking open, and I jolted. Zoya pushed inside.

“You’re home!” she squeaked, hair streaming behind her as she sealed the distance to me. When she stopped, her face was less than an inch from mine. “First of all,” she wagged a finger in front of my nose, “welcome home, hussy. Second, you did not, in fact, keep me posted !”

I snickered and threw my arms around her in a hug, squeezing tight.

She pecked my cheek and pulled back. “So”—she waggled her brows—“he kept you busy, huh?”

My grin was soul deep.

Xavier and Alec had held their lead, winning the final stages of the race and I’d bounced in place like an idiot while I’d happy-clapped my celebration.

The media had speculated about the drama at the junket the day before, but that’s all it’d been. Speculation. Which was good, because the last thing I—or anyone—needed was a scene on my behalf.

Zoya chucked her purse onto the counter. “Was it fun?”

I exhaled wistfully, long and slow. “So much fun.”

She wrapped a finger around several strands of my hair and tugged. “You look lighter, girl. Better.”

My brow lifted. “Better?”

“You just look,” she said, her voice soft, “happy.”

God, I really was. Still scared, but there was…

hope there too. As if maybe I could get through this.

And if things with my rally driver and me worked out, maybe I could get away from him .

Maybe I could be free. Finish my education, become a counselor and start my own practice.

Help other women in trouble. Maybe I could have a normal life. And maybe I could have it with Xavier.

Her hand fell to her chest. “You’re falling for that man, aren’t you?”

I couldn’t find words, so instead, I bit my lip, swished my shoulders and shrugged.

She beamed and pecked my cheek again. “I can’t stay,” she said, scurrying to her room and calling through the open door, “I’ve got a hot date of my own.”

“Ooh la la,” I teased. “Who this time?”

“Her name’s Andrea. We met at an ax-throwing competition.”

I jerked my head back. “Why were you at an ax--throwing competition?”

“I’m a woman of intrigue!”

“Ha!” My gaze narrowed on a wonderfully impish thought. Or intriguing, as it were.

Pulling out my phone, I sent off a message and snickered.

Me: I should let you know, I’m going out with someone this Saturday.

It buzzed with an immediate response and my heart did a skippy dance at the name on the screen.

Xavier: You best be joking, dream girl.

I grinned.

Me: Oh, I’m quite serious.

Me: He’s taking me to this race over at Hawthorne Circuit. I hear some hotshot local driver’s competing.

Xavier: Who do I need to kill?

Me: You can kill my brother if you like, but I suspect he’d be a bit put out by it.

Xavier: Christ. Don’t scare me like that, darlin.

My cackle bordered on cartoon villain.

Xavier: You two want in the Parc Ferme?

Me: That’s okay. I’d kinda like to watch with the commoners. Catch the action from there.

Considering I’d be at Xavier’s race with my brother, the crowds were notably not a concern. Besides, after Miles’s excitement over watching the cars up close in the fan atmosphere—the kinda things I’d missed out on for so long—I’d been sold.

Xavier: I’ll give you all the action you want, Ryah.

Dear lord. Heat pooled between my thighs. That man.

Xavier: I was thinkin…how’d you like another drivin lesson?

My tongue trailed the back of my teeth.

Me: This feels dangerously like an excuse to see me, rally boy.

Xavier: Goddamn right it is.

I bit my lip and sighed because his forwardness did things to me.

Xavier: What time you done tomorrow?

The sound of Zoya huffing, then a zipper being drawn up, carried from down the hall.

Me: 4:30 PM.

Xavier: I’ll be there. Same place as before, yeah?

Me: I’ll consider it.

Xavier: You’ll be there, or I’m coming to drag that sweet ass out myself.

Me: Sounds kinda fun.

Xavier: Killin me, darlin. You’re killin me.

I snickered.

Me: I’ll be there.

Zoya’s gold bracelets clanked as she whooshed past, a sleek black dress and clicky scarlet-colored heels on.

I flicked a finger up and down her body. “Snazzy!”

“Snazzy?” Her face twisted. “What the hell is snazzy?”

“Sexy?”

“Better.” She flipped her hair with a dramatic flourish. “I’ll be back before midnight.”

I wanted her to go, I did. But the idea of spending the evening alone… My nod was tight, my words forcibly light when I said, “Have fun, floozy!”

“Says the trollop!”

I wore it like a badge. “Get you some,” I taunted, then for good measure, added, “Keep me posted!”

Her high keen of laughter followed her out the door as she left.

My shoulders tensed when I set the locks.

Head ing to my room, I plunked onto the bed and pulled out my laptop.

Sighing, I flipped it open. Back to class in the morning meant back to reality.

I’d refused to check my messages for a hundred reasons since I’d left, but if I was gonna see Barlowe the next day, I needed to brace for impact.

The system loaded and I opened my email. A series of pings sounded out and my stomach twisted at the two messages from Barlowe. Swallowing hard, I rubbed the scar over my brow and clicked the first.

Miss Nolan,

It’s important that we speak. Please return my call.

Dr. Charles Barlowe

That was followed an hour later by another.

Miss Nolan,

Please find me when you return.

Dr. Charles Barlowe

Not as bad as I’d expected, but not good either. It didn’t read like a threat, so why did it feel like one? I sighed. I couldn’t wait to be done with school. Months, that was all I had left. Months.

Another ping filled the room as a new message zoomed in. Then a second, and a third and a fourth. They came rapid-fire, window after window popping up. My throat seized as the first opened on its own, the digitized voice message auto-playing over the speakers.

“Where did you go, Ryah Jane?”

The others followed, one after the other.

“Did I say you could leave, Ryah Jane?”

“I know you’re with him, Ryah Jane.”

“DID I SAY YOU COULD FUCKING LEAVE!”

I slammed the screen shut and scrambled away until my back collided with my headrest. The ringing in my ears started, my vision going black at the edges. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe when that life-altering hope from just minutes ago crashed and burned around me.

* * *

My gaze darted from face to face as I crossed campus the next morning. I’d barely slept. Hadn’t even tried until Zoya came home and crawled into bed with me. I’d wanted to call Xavier, but without explaining what had happened, that wasn’t possible.

I’d emailed Officer Maynard that morning, my message less than my usual polite.

Dear Officer Maynard,

Find attached the voice messages received from the man stalking me—no, sorry.

What were your words again? Harassing, that’s right.

I’m aware from our previous conversations, you feel this matter is unworthy of your attention, but when something happens to me, I hope you’re able to sleep well in your forthcoming retirement.

Ryah Nolan

The freezing rain pelted my skin, stinging where it hit. I tugged my coat tighter, scurrying toward the psych building.

Someone stepped into my path, and I screamed.

The security guard, Stan, threw his hands up, palms out. “Apologies, Miss Nolan. Didn’t mean to startle you. I just wondered if you might have a minute to talk privately?”

Heads whipped our way, brows lowered.

My pulse thrashed in my ears as I took a lone step back. Talk? About my accident? Why the heck did we need to do that? Like hell I was going anywhere alone with him. My gaze darted to the side, my voice feverish when I said, “I’m on my way to class.”

“With Professor Barlowe?”

My shoulders tensed and I blinked rapidly, because that was just…creepy. How did he know that? Why did he know that? Or did he? It had been a question, and I was outside the psych building. Either way, I wasn’t about to answer.

I edged back another step. “I have to go.”

He pulled something from his pocket. “I have some questions to ask that may be”—he glanced around and swiped the sleet from his brow—“sensitive in nature.” He offered me his business card. “Please, call me when you’re done, and we can set up a time to speak.”

Sensitive in nature? “What’s this about?”

Angling forward, he nudged the card toward me again. “I think that’s best discussed in private,” he said, pitching his words low.

My lungs tightened. I had unequivocally no intention of calling, but I desperately wanted him to leave me alone, so I took it. “Thanks.” Pivoting on my heel, I immediately slipped on a patch of ice, landing hard on my knee.

“Are you alright, Miss Nolan?” Stan asked, edging forward.

Pain shot through my leg, and I winced. “I’m fine.” The slushy dampness soaked my jeans and coat. My hands stung as I rolled to my side, then clambered to my feet. Stan watched me go, his stare intent as I hobbled away.

The psych building’s door clanked when I pushed inside, the heat hitting me while I swiped the slush from my jacket.

The stupid day had barely started, and I already needed it to be over. God, I wanted to see Xavier so badly, it hurt.

Gulping a ragged breath, I followed a string of students into the lecture hall. Professor Barlowe’s attention slid to me the second I crossed over.

“Ryah,” he said, then flicked a finger, summoning me to him where he stood near the lectern.

I limped as I approached, my throat dry. “Yes, Professor?”

He squared himself to me. “You didn’t answer my call Friday.”

Stand tall, Ryah. Stand. Tall.

“Respectfully, Professor, I thought my email was self-explanatory.”

“Your email said it was a personal matter.”

“Yes, sir. Personal. Something that has nothing to do with school.” And was absolutely none of his business.

He made a show of taking a slow inhale to steady himself, then linked his hands before him. “Like time with your race car driver?” His voice wasn’t hard, but the words struck, nonetheless.

My eyes widened, head slowly retreating. “I’m sorry?”

His stare slid to Christian and back, as if in explanation.

Wait, had Christian told on me? Like a goddamn toddler!

From the second Xavier had dropped me off the night before, things had gone from bad to worse. I’d spiraled into chaos, and dammit, I just wanted control.

“I’m not trying to chastise you, Ryah. I’m simply trying to help.”

Adrenaline pumped through my veins and my hands clenched while my nails dug into my skin. “I understand, Professor, but I’ve worked extremely hard for you. I do everything you ask, when you ask it. I took one weekend away for myself. I don’t think that’s out of line.”

“Ryah—”

“In the future, if you want me to attend our meetings, I kindly request you put them at a more reasonable hour,” I said, voice louder than I’d intended, but I wasn’t about to apologize.

Several students in the front rows of the hall squirmed in their seats, rifling with phones or books or pens as they pretended to be busy.

Barlowe’s brows lifted, and some emotion flickered in the recesses of his stare, but it was smothered before I could place it. His jaw ticked as he ground it. “I just need to know you’re taking this seriously, Ryah. You’re putting me in a precarious position here.”

I blinked my shock, my hands trembling as I forced myself to ask, “A precarious position?”

“I’ve attempted to be tactful, but your thesis simply isn’t ready yet.

Your problem statement is poorly defined, the bibliography citations abysmal, your information badly represented and the defense weak.

As it stands, the committee would tear you to pieces.

Unless you fall in line, your paper will be laughed at. ”

Speechless. I was speechless. Never in the two years we’d worked together had he ever indicated my work was poor. I shook my head. “I appreciate your judgment, Professor, but at this point, I think I may need to seek a second opinion.”

He tipped his chin up. “I’ll message you after class with another meeting time. We can discuss this further then.” He pointed toward the desk next to Christian. “Please, take your seat.”

My fists clenched tighter as I left and did as he said. Setting myself down, I unbuttoned my sopping coat, and sagged at the sight of the bloody stain on my pant leg.

“What was that about?” Christian asked.

My eyes narrowed to slits when I turned them on him. “I can’t believe you,” I said, dropping my bag onto the desk with a thunk.

“Me? I’m not the one trying to throw everything she’s worked for away on a rally driver.”

I scoffed. I wasn’t having that conversation with him. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Christian.”

He huffed, then snatched some papers from his desk. “How was your trip ?”

“Great.” Sweet lord. I was two seconds from calling Xavier and begging him to come get me early, because he was the only thing that could make the day better.

“Yeah?” Christian let loose a sardonic laugh and tossed those papers down in front of me. “Definitely was for him.”

What the actual hell? My gaze dropped, landing on a printout of the National Sports Magazine article.

A picture of Xavier and Alec filled the left side of the page.

They were leaning against the hood of their rally car, arms crossed over their chests.

Their racing suits were unzipped, the tops hanging loose around their hips, show ing off their black tanks and bare, muscular, tattooed arms. They looked good. Really good.

My gaze trailed to the headline in big bold print at the top of the page and my heart plummeted.

Single In Sport: How Two Bachelor Racers Are Changing The Face Of Rally And Flocking Female Fans To The Fray.

My knees went weak, and tears stung my eyes. He’d done that interview in Emerald Cove. When I was with him. When we were together. A couple. Official.

Single in sport? Single? Why would he do that? Why would he let that happen?

My face burned, and my lungs hurt. I wanted air but it wouldn’t come. I couldn’t be there anymore. I needed to leave before the barely there threads holding me together unraveled. Needed to leave before those tears fell for real.

Christian opened his mouth, but I had no interest to hear anything else he had to say, so I snatched up the papers, burst from my chair and fled.