Chapter 4 004
Chloe
The scent of him followed me into my apartment.
I shut the door and leaned against it, closing my eyes. The clean, lemony hallway air was gone, replaced in my memory by that wild, storm-soaked forest smell. It was like he’d carved a path through the air that only I could sense. I shook my head hard, pushing off from the door.
“Get a grip, Chloe,” I said out loud to my empty living room. “It’s cologne. Expensive, weird cologne. That’s all.”
I needed a distraction. Something normal. Something predictable.
I grabbed my laptop from the coffee table and flopped onto the couch, pulling the blanket over my legs. With a few clicks, I was on the city sports channel’s live stream. The Glacier’s ice hockey game was just starting the third period.
And there he was. Number 17, Felix Garrity. Skating with that easy, powerful grace, his blond hair visible under his helmet. My little crush. Well, maybe not so little. We’d been flirting back and forth on social media for weeks. He’d liked almost every one of my art posts, and last week he’d commented a fire emoji on a picture of me at the botanical gardens. Amanda said it was basically a digital marriage proposal.
Seeing him on the screen, doing his normal, famous-athlete thing, was a relief. This was a world that made sense. Clear rules, a defined rink, obvious goals.
“Come on, Felix,” I whispered, watching him line up for a face-off.
The puck dropped, and the play exploded into chaos along the boards. The camera zoomed in on the scramble. Felix was battling for the puck when a Glacier’s cheerleader came into focus on the sideline, pom-poms waving.
My stomach dropped.
It was Alexa Vance.
Of course it was. Her perfect, glossy black hair was in a high ponytail, her smile blinding under the arena lights. Our high school rivalry hadn’t been about tests or sports. It had been about everything else. Every role in the school play, every spotlight, every boy I’d ever looked twice at. She had a radar for what I wanted, and she loved to get there first.
And now she was a Glacier Girl, right on the edge of Felix’s world. I hadn’t even known. A cold feeling settled in my chest. I watched, frozen, as the play stopped for a whistle. Felix skated to the bench, and as he passed the cheer squad, Alexa caught his eye. She gave him a wave and a smile that was all friendly, innocent sunshine to anyone who didn’t know her.
Felix, tired and sweating, nodded back at her. A simple, athlete-to-cheerleader acknowledgment.
But to me, it felt like a prophecy.
My excitement from minutes ago drained away, leaving a dull, familiar ache. She was already in his orbit. It was only a matter of time. I snapped the laptop shut harder than I meant to.
“Stupid,” I muttered to myself, pulling the blanket over my head. Why did I even let myself get excited?
Two days later, I was still trying to shake off the funk. Coffee with Amanda was the prescribed cure.
“So, the hotel suite,” I asked, stirring my vanilla latte. “Tell me everything. How many pillows were on the bed?”
Amanda’s eyes gleamed. “An absurd number. Like, a nest of pillows. And the shower had, like, seven different shower heads. I felt like I was in a very fancy car wash. It was glorious.”
“I’m glad someone’s living their best life,” I said, smiling genuinely for the first time in days.
“Which brings me to you,” she said, pointing her spoon at me. “How’s the home front? Any new encounters with the mysterious Mr. Thorne? Shared elevator rides? Borrowing a cup of sugar?”
I took a long sip of my drink. “No. And I’m keeping it that way. I see his door. I see my door. I prefer it when they are both closed.”
“Oh, come on! He’s living ten feet from you. You have to have seen him.”
“I heard him leave this morning. Very early. That’s it.” I’d been making a conscious effort to be quiet in my own hallway, listening for his door before I left. It felt ridiculous, but I did it anyway.
“You’re avoiding him,” Amanda accused, but she was grinning. “After all that ‘he’s a psychopath’ talk, now you’re scared he’s going to ask you out.”
“I’m not scared of that. I just think he’s strange. And I don’t need more strange in my life.”
“More strange than your situationship with a pro hockey player who may or may not be getting cozy with Alexa ‘The Vulture’ Vance?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.
I winced. “Low blow. And don’t call her that. It makes me sound bitter.”
“You are bitter. Rightfully so. But my point is, Felix is a flirt. A hot, famous, professional flirt. Your neighbor is a hot, mysterious, potentially loaded recluse who offered to put me up in a palace because of a paperwork error. One of these men has demonstrated actual, tangible consideration. The other one shoots pucks for a living and smiles at your arch-nemesis.”
“Felix has never sniffed my door,” I said defensively, then immediately regretted it.
Amanda’s eyes went wide. “He what?”
“Nothing. Forget it. It was a figure of speech.”
“It was a very specific figure of—”
She stopped mid-sentence. Her gaze drifted over my shoulder, toward the cafe’s entrance. Her playful expression shifted into one of sheer, delighted surprise. “Okay. Do not turn around. Act natural.”
“What? Why?” I started to turn my head.
“I said don’t turn!” she hissed, leaning forward. “Your neighbor just walked in. Mr. Thorne. In the wild.”
My entire body went still. The cozy chatter of the cafe seemed to fade into a buzz. “Are you sure?”
“Tall, dark, and looks like he could broker a peace treaty or break a man in half? Yeah, I’m sure. He’s at the counter ordering.”
My heart launched into a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Why was he here? This was my cafe, my normal place. He was infiltrating my territory, just like he had my hallway.
“Is he leaving?” I whispered, staring intently at Amanda’s nose.
“Nope. He’s getting his drink. He’s turning around. He’s… oh. Oh, wow.” Her voice dropped to an awe-filled whisper. “He’s looking right over here, Chloe. He’s not just looking. He’s… locked on.”
A prickling heat spread across the back of my neck. It was the same feeling from the stairwell—that uncanny sense of being seen, truly seen, from a distance. I couldn’t help it. I had to know.
I turned my head, just a fraction.
He was standing by the pickup counter, holding a simple black coffee cup. And Amanda was right. He wasn’t scanning the room. His storm-grey eyes were fixed directly on our table. On me. His expression was unreadable—not smiling, not frowning. Just intensely present. It was as if the rest of the busy cafe was a blurred painting, and we were the only two people in clear focus.
The eye contact was a physical jolt. It stole the air from my lungs.
I whipped my face back toward Amanda, my cheeks burning. “I have to go to the restroom.”
“What? Now?” Amanda asked, confused.
“Yes. Now.” I scrambled out of the booth, nearly knocking over my latte. I couldn’t sit there under that laser-focused stare for another second. It felt like being examined under a microscope, or like prey frozen in a spotlight.
“Chloe, wait, what’s wrong?” Amanda called after me, but I was already weaving through the tables, my head down.
I pushed through the door marked with a little painted fern and sank back against it, my breath coming fast. The calm, tiled quiet of the restroom was a relief.
“Get it together,” I told my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were too wide. “He’s a guy in a coffee shop. He looked at you. Big deal.
I ran the cold water and splashed some on my wrists, the way my mom used to do when I was flustered. I needed to go back out there. I needed to walk past him with my head held high, give a polite, cool nod, and leave with Amanda.
I took a deep, steadying breath and opened the bathroom door.
The short hallway back to the cafe main room felt like a mile. I could see our booth. Amanda was watching for me, a concerned pinch between her eyebrows.
And then I saw him.
He wasn’t at the counter anymore. He was standing beside our booth, one hand casually in the pocket of his dark coat. He was talking to Amanda.
Amanda was smiling up at him, saying something, then she gestured toward the restroom hallway. Toward me.
He turned.
And there it was again—that direct, unwavering focus. He’d been waiting. Not just in the cafe, but specifically for me to come back.
He took a single, deliberate step toward me, closing the distance between the booth and the hallway. He stopped, leaving a polite amount of space, but it still felt like he was everywhere.
“Miss Chloe,” he said, his voice that quiet, resonant rumble. “Amanda was just telling me you weren’t feeling well.”