Chapter 31

HELLO MY LOVES, THIS IS THE SECOND BOOK IN THE SERIES. HOPE TO MEET YOUR SATISFACTION!!!! THANKS

KSENIA

A cool chill runs over my skin, even though it is in the high eighties out here on the sand. No matter what, I cannot stay away from the beach, from the ocean, no matter how hard I try. The West Coast beaches just have something that others don’t. They also have someone nearby that the others don’t, which means that I should not be here.

I should be long gone, but I can’t… I’ve tried.

This place is comfortable. It’s home. It’s all I’ve known over the past decade.

Inhaling through my nose, I let the breath out slowly, then look around the beach. There are people milling around, families, and young adults, teenagers, too. Then there’s me. I’m alone, all alone. I tend to stay that way knowing that being alone is a lot safer than being with anyone else, friends, lovers, whatever the case.

It’s safer being alone.

Being alone means there is nobody to get hurt and nobody to hurt me at the same time. I’ve been through both scenarios. So, even though I am thirty years old, I’ll forever be alone and alive. But I also feel like I’m saving other people’s lives as well, ones who may want to be in my life in one way or another.

My life is not made up of fairy tales and butterfly kisses. It’s dark and ugly, it’s painful. Alone is better. The hairs on the back of my neck stand and I look behind my shoulder, trying to figure out who is watching me.

Someone is definitely watching me.

I can feel it, down to the deepest part of me. I can feel it in my bones, to the marrow. I know that I can’t go to the police though, if I do, then they’ll label me as crazy. I know that they will, I’ve been there before.

The sun beats down on me, but I feel cold even as sweat gathers along my lower back and between my breasts.

Looking out to the crashing waves, I think about making my way into the extremely cold water for a quick dip, wondering if it would wash off the feeling that has suddenly consumed me, but I decide against it. My body may be hot on the outside, but inside I’m freezing cold.

I don’t want to shimmy my jean shorts down and expose myself even more than I already am in just my shorts and bikini top. Whoever is watching me, he or she is going to see that, and it’s too vulnerable.

I’ll react in some way if I do that too, so I force myself to ignore the sensation and lie back down on my towel. I forgo the walk that I was getting ready to take down the length of the beach. Something just niggles in the back of my mind, telling me that I should not leave my stuff alone.

Once I’m settled, I reach for my book and lie back in my chair. My umbrella covers every part of my body and I take a few cleansing breaths in hopes that it will help my mind calm down.

It doesn’t work.

I end up rereading the page I’m on five times before I close it and decide to pack up my things. This is the only day this week that I have off of work. I don’t know who is watching me, but they really fucking ruined it.

I’m pissed.

Beach day.

Ruined.

Once my things are gathered, I pick up the umbrella and drag it down the beach to the rental place. The guy behind the counter gives me a smile and thanks me for renting it. I return his smile, but inside I’m about ready to scream in frustration and anger.

I don’t allow myself to think about the fear though. Because if I do that, then I really won’t be able to function. It’s been at least a decade since I’ve felt this way and I don’t know what’s happening now, but nothing good can come from this.

It doesn’t take me long to make my way toward my car. Standing at my trunk, I let out a heavy sigh. My car. I loved it when I bought it ten years ago. But she’s sure showing her age. My car was the first thing I bought… after.

After everything.

After my world came crashing down.

After everything fell apart.

After I ran and for the first time, I was let go.

Once everything is neatly packed away in the trunk, I open the driver’s door and sink down. I’m still wearing my jean shorts and bikini top as I drive home. It’s nothing weird or rare to see someone in their swimsuit driving around town. I’m comfortable enough with myself that I don’t even realize it half of the time.

That’s just part of living in a coastal California town.

My apartment building comes into view, and I let out another heavy sigh at the sight of it. That is another thing that is old and run down, my apartment building. I should not bitch. The owner really likes me and allows me to pay cash. She doesn’t ask any questions and I don’t have to explain anything.

I think she realizes my situation, maybe not my exact situation, but she knows that I’m a woman on the run. She doesn’t ask questions, she doesn’t make me sign things, and she takes cash. She’s the best landlord I’ve ever had, another reason I don’t want to leave this area.

Opening the car door, I head toward my apartment door. It’s only a few feet away, and honestly, I really don’t like that it’s on the ground floor either, but beggars can’t be choosers, so I just once again—let it go.

Stepping inside, I immediately know that something is wrong. I don’t know what it is, but I can feel without a doubt that something is definitely off.

My apartment is small.

A living room and kitchen that are all open to where I’m standing, then one bedroom that I can see from said living room, the door being open, because I always leave it that way.

Nothing appears out of place at initial glance. But I feel it. Deep in my bones, just like I know that something was off at the beach. But how could whoever is possibly watching me have done something inside of my apartment so quickly?

It’s crazy, right? I’m just being paranoid, right?

Unless they’ve been watching me for a while and know exactly where I live. But then, wouldn’t I have felt the sensation before? It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever felt it.

I know when I’m being watched.

I’m keenly aware, something that I, unfortunately, learned early on in life—far too early.

Closing my eyes slowly, I shake my head once, inhaling a breath and holding it before I open my eyes again. Slowly, I let my breath out, my gaze flicking around the room again. I try to drown out everything. Every single noise or distraction and I just listen.

Nothing.

Complete silence.

I know that it must be him.

He is the only person that I can feel and yet leaves behind zero evidence of his presence. I don’t know how he does it, I don’t really want to know, either. Instantly, I’m filled with conflicting feelings.

I thought that I would never see him again. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to or not. I halfway hoped that I wouldn’t. But now that I know he’s here, I’m not sure that I can go on without physically seeing his face at least one more time. “Grisha? I know you’re there,” I call out.

GRISHA

I WATCH HER FROM A DISTANCE. Her spine is straight as she looks around the beach. I should have known that this is where I would find her. This is where I could always find her. She would get angry with me and run away, always to the beach.

This is where her soul is at peace. Maybe it is the freedom of the ocean, something that she has never truly experienced. Maybe it is the warmth of the sun. I don’t know, but this is where she belongs.

It took me a little time to find her this go around. I’ve always kept tabs on her, but the last few years I’d let it slip. I don’t know why. Maybe I was just being lazy. Maybe I was thinking of letting her go completely.

She deserves to be happy, she doesn’t deserve to be scared, to be miserable. But maybe I just really wanted to forget she existed, for my own selfish reasons.

That’s a lie.

Never could I forget Ksenia’s existence. She was the only woman I ever felt anything for. The only woman who could look at me and see the man that I am underneath it all. The only woman who has known me. There have been others, dozens of others, but none could make me erase her from my memories.

Once she packs her things and drags her umbrella back to the rental stand, I watch as she makes her way to her car. When she’s safely inside the piece of shit automobile, I drive toward her apartment, leaving her behind… for now.

It wasn’t hard to find out where she lives, where she works, or anything else about her. She attempts to hide in plain sight, but she could never do that, she’s too goddamn bright. She’s too scheduled, too routine, too fucking beautiful.

I know that she goes grocery shopping on Fridays after work and to the beach on Sundays. The other days of the week, she works and then goes home. There are no men in her life, no friends, nobody anymore.

I have to admit, although she hasn’t covered her tracks much, she has at least done well in the area of relationships —recently. Maybe she figured me out, discovered what I’d been doing. Maybe she just decided to stay single. Whatever the case, I’m really fucking glad that she is unattached.

Slipping into her apartment, I am unseen because this place is shady as shit with about a million other people being sneaky and trying not to be caught doing whatever it is they’re doing.

Locking the door behind me, I make my way into the bedroom and wait for her. I make sure that I’m out of sight of the front door. I don’t want to scare her per se, but I don’t want to be seen immediately either.

When the front door opens, I hold my breath. She doesn’t move any farther into the apartment and I know that she senses me. There is a long moment of silence. Both of us are quiet. I stay still, where I am, waiting for her to do something. I’m on edge in case she decides to run.

Then she calls out my name and it’s the sweetest fucking sound I’ve heard in a decade.

“Grisha? I know you’re there.”

I could let her wonder, let her feel that faux sense of safety, then appear. I don’t do that though. I don’t want to be too much of a dick, not immediately anyway. Instead, I lick my lips, inhaling a deep breath, then let it out, before I step out from the side of the room and show myself.

“Ksenia,” I say, murmuring her name aloud for the first time in almost ten years.

There is something in a name, in saying it aloud. There is a power there, but I don’t know what exactly it is, but it’s there. Screaming loudly.

Her eyes widen, her lips part and she stares at me unmoving for longer than is normal, but I’m okay with this because I use the silence, the moment, to just take her in fully. I have seen her from a distance several times, but this is the closest I’ve been.

It’s amazing. She looks amazing, just as she always has. Her body is a bit fuller than it was ten years ago, but it looks good on her. Really fucking good. Her brown hair is pulled up into a messy bun, she’s not wearing makeup, but she looks better than any woman I’ve seen. “You look good, dusha moya,” I murmur.

Her head jerks back and she stumbles a couple of steps, until her back hits the closed and locked door behind her. Tilting my head to the side, I give her a small smile, but I do not advance toward her.

Yet.

“Grisha, it’s really you,” she exhales.

“You sound surprised, but you called out my name.”

Ksenia’s lips part and I watch as her tongue wets her bottom lip before her teeth sink deep into her flesh. She did call out my name, but she wasn’t really expecting it to be me. I wonder how many times she has done this. “I didn’t expect… not really.”

Taking a step toward her, then another, I lift my hand and cup her cheek. Sliding my thumb along her bottom lip, feeling that wetness, I let out a grunt before I lean forward, touching my mouth to hers.

“Expect a lot more, dusha moya.”