Walk With Me

Bonus Chapter: Girl From the Coffee Shop

I can feel the chill of his voice running through me as I try to calm my nerves. "I told you in the message. My mom needs me to help her with some things. I will only be a few more days. I will be home before you know it."

The truth? I need more time. More time to finally breathe. More time to watch Mia laugh with her grandparents, with her uncle. More time to make plans to move out here.

I can hear his heavy breathing on the other end. I know what that means. I check the time, knowing it's just past five there. He just about walked in the door and he's already taken to the bottle.

"That's not the point and you know it. Your mom's birthday was yesterday, and you said you'd be back today. You have my daughter, you can't just keep her hostage."

I take another breath, settling the urge to fight back. I know that gets me nowhere. I also know how big of a hurdle I have in front of me. Taking Mia from the state, doing it on my own, it's not going to be easy. I ignore those thoughts though. Right now it's about calming him. It's always about calming him. "I do have our daughter, but I'm her mother. You know she's safe, and as I said, I will be back in two days."

"Bullshit! You better be getting on a fucking plane tonight," he threatens, causing me to jump. I quickly look around to make sure no one is watching.

I can feel the unshed tears beginning to fight their way to the surface again, so I quickly grab my things. The last thing I need is to cause a scene. One more reaction from me and people will take notice, ask questions. Questions I'm not in the mood to formulate vague answers to.

"Vince," I try to lower my voice. "It's only two days."

I can hear something crash through the phone and can't help but wince. I can only imagine what scene I will be returning home to. Without me there to clean up the mess, I know it won't be good. I make a mental note to make sure to drop off Mia at my friend's before returning there. She doesn't need to see the broken pieces of our home.

"I swear to God, Amber, if you're not fucking home in two days,"

"I will be," I cut him off. "We will be there. I promise."

Without another word, he hangs up the phone. I pull it from my ear, looking at the blank screen in front of me. That's when I notice I'm shaking. I'm not surprised at my frantic state, I just hate to see it. I hate knowing what I've become.

I take a sudden step forward when I slam into something very hard, sturdy, sending my cup of coffee flying across the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I quickly blurt out, trying to steady my still trembling body as I bend to reach for the now empty cup.

"No, I'm the one that should be apologizing. I wasn't looking where," his voice cuts off as I make eye contact with him. Looking back at me are the deepest blue eyes I think I have ever seen. Those are the first things to render me speechless. But it's not what has me taking a step back. What I notice next is the badge on his chest. The shine from the metal blinding me, causing me to shield every bruise, both inside and out.

I begin my usual mental body check. No visible bruising at the moment, nothing that needs to be covered. Next is the smile. I have to give a genuine smile, anything else is suspicious, causes questions to arise. The very questions I am trying to avoid by getting the heck out of here.

"It's really okay," I finally respond.

He's still watching me, and I can't help but do another mental run through. My hair is pulled back as usual, nothing out of place. I have a light layer of makeup on, just enough to cover the dark circles from lack of solid sleep. I know I have no bruises above the chest at the moment and everything else is surely covered. So what he seems to be searching for is beyond me.

He must catch my uncertainty because he quickly straightens, almost jolting himself back into the moment. He clears his throat before speaking, "At least let me buy you a new drink."

A barista has appeared now with a mop and I quickly step aside, apologizing for the mess. I offer to help clean it up but she refuses.

I lift my eyes back to the man in uniform before taking another step toward the door. "You really don't need to do that. In all honesty, you did me a favor. That much caffeine at this hour would have kept me up all night," I try to laugh, hoping he doesn't pick up on those dark circles I covered up.

Thankfully, he laughs at my attempt at humor. I can't help but smile back. Something about his smile calms me. It's familiar, triggering me to actually analyze his face. His strong jawline catches my eye before I meet those deep blues again. My heart flutters, catching a glimpse of a memory but everything else in me shuts it down.

"You sure I can't get you something? It's the least I can do for spilling your coffee," he insists again.

I know I should say no. I've learned to keep interactions with police short. The less you give them the better, but I just get this strange feeling like I know him.

"You know what," I begin. "Who needs sleep anyway, right?"

He laughs again, sending another familiar jolt through me. "Right," he smiles. "What were you drinking?"

"Oh, just a black coffee," I quickly say. I watch as he slowly nods before glancing at the floor behind me. I realize the spill was clearly a shade or two lighter than a black coffee. But a plain coffee is easier. But now he's probably questioning why I'm lying about something as simple as a drink order.

"With just a little cream and two sugars, please," I add, completing my usual order.

"Got it," he smiles, turning to the counter to order.

Great, now I just complicated things. "But a black coffee would be fine too," I add, trying to backtrack and make things more simple. "Whatever's easier." Why can't I just stop talking?

He turns to face me again with yet another kind smile. "Okay," he says.

I watch as he orders. He is still so familiar. I begin to run through every past boyfriend, friend, friend of a friend. Maybe I went to high school with him? I am back in my hometown, so he has to be some type of blast from the past.

When he hands me my drink, we both turn to leave. He opens the door for me, letting me exit first. I take a step outside before taking a small sip. He made sure to get it with cream and sugar. The small gesture makes me smile as I turn to face him again.

"Thank you," I say, lifting my cup to him.

He smiles again. "Like I said, it was the least I could do."

I smile back, trying to push aside the embarrassing shade of pink fighting to take over my face. Why am I blushing right now?

"I'm sorry, who exactly am I thanking?" I ask, hoping a name might jog my memory.

He reaches out a hand, taking a step closer. "It's Tommy. Tommy Sallow," he smiles again, watching as all my pieces begin clicking into place.

I reach for his hand, shaking it back when everything flashes in front of me. I know exactly where I've seen him before. That night back in New York, the very one that turned my world upside down. The first time that I learned to cover my tracks. He was there, for all of it.

"Told you I wouldn't ever be too far away," he winks before walking away.

I watch him fade down the sidewalk, slowly stepping into his police car. I've seen this all before. I've seen him climb into his car, pulling away from me. Different car, different moment, same unforgettable face. My heart is still frozen in my chest. He's not the only cop to come to my home throughout the years, but he was the first. He was also the only one who ever saw me. Who looked past the bullshit lies and actually saw me. And now he's here, in California.

The thing about running is that the past always has a way of catching up to you. As I watch Tommy pull down the street, I realize that running here, running back home, doesn't mean I am escaping. But maybe, maybe this time I might actually find something else entirely.