Page 61 of One More Chance
She nodded and looked back toward the field.
I pretended to do the same, though my pulse beat too loud in my ears. Angie was still there but now she wasn’t watching me. Her gaze slid with subtle precision from my son’s sweat-slicked sprint down the field to my daughter’s bouncing form beside me. It was chilling. Then Angie smiled. A full, slow, twisted smile.
Oh fuck no.
My vision swam with rage and fear, but I didn’t move. She wasn’t doing anything technically, but this level of stalking and obsession had to count for something with the police.
Fuck, this promise to Sloane is going to get us killed. I want to bury her myself.
My hand tightened around my phone. I slid it out and snapped a quick picture, pretending to scroll through photos. With the distance and the lighting, I knew it’d be hard to prove… but it was something. Maybe it wouldn’t hold up in court, but I’d be damned if I didn’t document every moment of her intrusion that I could.
I felt Sloane watching me from the corner of her eye. She didn’t say anything. Probably thought I was being one of those proud dads grabbing a photo of their kids mid-game and I let her think that. I didn’t want to crack the fragile peace of this moment with the fire clawing at my gut.
“I’m gonna head down to meet the boy,” I said. “You good here?”
She took a sip from her thermos then curled tighter into my old hoodie. “Yeah. I’ve got tea and comfort. What could possibly go wrong?”
Everything.
I smiled. “That’s the spirit.”
When the final whistle blew and the crowd erupted, Liam jogged toward me: cheeks flushed, sweat-matted hair wild, grin wide. I clapped him on the back and did my best to channel normalcy.
“Hell of a hustle out there, bud. Elite stuff, champ.”
His eyes flicked to the stands, searching. “Did Mom see it?”
I nodded, nudging him with my elbow. “She did. Looked like she was gonna toss that thermos in the air.”
He laughed, pride blooming across his face. I kept my voice light, playful but I made damn sure my body stayed between my family and the stands.
By the time the game was over, though, Angie was gone.
I didn’t say anything to Sloane. What could I say? That the woman I’d wrecked our life for was now orbiting us like a ghost, slipping in and out of view, leaving dread in her wake?
No. Not yet. Instead, I wrote it down.
Day 57. She was at the game. Watching Violet and Liam. Watching me. Smiling like we shared a secret no one else knew.
With a shaking hand, I underlined the last part twice.
Chapter 21
Sloane and I hadn’t connected for a few nights, which made sense with everything going on. Due to her pregnancy and my own stress of the looming pandemic and constant presence of Angie, a distance formed between us, a lingering exhaustion that we couldn’t bridge.
It wasn’t just reality that wore me down; it was the nightmares. Nightly nightmares that tore through me without mercy, and I was almost thankful I’d stayed in the guest room. They came for me with relentless cruelty. Each one left me gasping for air, my heart thundering against my chest, each one a smothering blanket when I'd wake. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Angie and Sloane's faces; the psycho's malignant smile and my wife's silent scream.
Sweat clung to my skin as I turned in bed, my body heavy with the weight of the night’s haunting images. I reached for my phone, the screen lighting up in the dark room.
Ten missed calls. My stomach dropped as I scrolled through the call log.
Better screenshot this, too. One more log to throw on Angie's pyre.
The case was moving forward, and I already had a mountain of evidence to bury Angie under. Every call, every message, every note she left behind was a twist of the noose tightening around her neck.
I clenched my jaw, anger simmering within me. The idea of her voice creeping into my life again, like some kind of infection, made my skin crawl. She thought she still had power over me. She thought she could still manipulate, control, or break me.
I had promised Sloane I would do this the right way and I meant it… otherwise that bitch would be in a concrete tomb.
