"Wait!" I shout, the heavy rain falling into my mouth. The bus doors are closed, and the driver is just smirking at me.
"Let me back in. I got off at the wrong stop," I plead.
He shrugs and mimes something that I don't understand.
"What?" I shout over the sound of the downpour. "Just open the doors! I'm getting soaked out here!"
He twists in his seat and leans closer to the door, shouting back, "Protocol, madam! It's also karma! You got out without thanking me for the ride."
"Are you for real? I was looking at my phone!" I wipe the wet hair from my face and lower my tone. "Listen, please. I didn't mean any disrespect. Just help me out here."
He hovers his chubby finger over the button, then shakes his head. "Sorry. Can't break protocol. Next bus is due in forty minutes. Have yourself a lovely evening!"
"Thanks for nothing!" I yell, slapping the glass. "You big…horrible man!"
The driver can barely contain his glee as he pulls away.
"Asshole!" I shout, knowing full well that he cannot and did not hear me.
Nice move wearing a white tank top tonight, Harper. I glance down and my shoulders slump. Especially with a pink bra. Aliens can probably see this from space.
The headlights of a massive truck dazzle my eyes, and I glance over at the gas station entrance. Then I spot the attendant flipping over a sign on the store window.
Of course he's closing early. I'm going to freeze to death out here.
I lift my phone to get some signal and call my dad, but it's already ringing.
Shit.
My hand trembles when the name Bryan Dickface Stanfield flashes on my screen.
Bryan is my ex-boyfriend. I changed my number last week, but it took him less than a day to find it. He's been calling nonstop every evening. Figuring he's probably wasted, I end the call and scroll through my contacts, but it rings again.
I glance up at the full moon and lift the phone to my ear.
"Stop calling me, Bryan. We're over."
"You don't get to decide that, Harper." His cold voice chases goosebumps down my spine. "You really think you can just leave me, don't you?"
"That's kind of how breaking up works," I reply as icily as I can muster.
Bryan snickers. "You have no fucking idea of the world of pain heading your way. No one crosses me, slut. No one. Just wait until I catch up with—"
I end the call and wipe the rain from my arms. My phone vibrates with a text: I'll make you regret this!
I'm tempted to remind Bryan that he cheated on me, but it's not worth the hassle. I'll just get another round of abuse if I reply.
The damage is already done as far as tonight is concerned. Every time he threatens me, I'm always left with the same nausea that only sleep can resolve.
And as twisted as it sounds, I feel less anxious after he's called or messaged me.
It's when he's quiet for too long that I really start to worry, because then I get scared he's out there somewhere, watching me.
My best friend Maria warned me that Bryan was a first-rate psychopath before we got together last year. It took me less than a month to realize she was right, but the guy refuses to take no for an answer.
Hoping Bryan is wasted at home, I gaze around the gas station just as the driver jumps from his truck.
Wearing a woolen red shirt that barely conceals his bloated stomach, he seems unconcerned with the rain as he lights a cigarette and we both watch the attendant drive away.
My heart thumps a little harder. The way he's staring at me is freaking me out.
Stay cool, Harper. Not everyone is a serial killer. He's just a hardworking family man who needs gas.
The broken bus stop roof leaks a waterfall beside me as I sit down on the bench and hit the call button.
"Hey, Dad," I say.
"Who's this?" my dad yawns.
Wow. Mark Reeves will never win any Father of the Year awards, but seriously?
"How many other girls call you Dad?" I shake my head and shiver. "You know what, don't answer that."
"Sorry, Harper," he mumbles, distracted. "Just a little busy."
"What are you doing?" I hear a suppressed female giggle and close my eyes. "Or should I ask, who are you doing?"
My dad has probably slept with half the city in the twelve years since my mother died. He tells me he's still looking for the one, but I'm not stupid. Men like Mark Reeves don't treat people well, especially women.
As far as I know, he was never physical with my mom, but I saw enough to know I would never get involved with any man who prioritizes business over his family.
My dad and his partner own thirty nightclubs in seven different states. That gives him access to young women who love danger, money, and power, and I guess he's just too weak to refuse.
I stopped blaming him after Bryan cheated and lied. It seems like this is just what men do.
"Hello?" I remind him. "Your only daughter here. Stranded. In the rain…"
My dad snickers and shushes someone. "Struggling to hear you, sweetheart. The line is terrible."
"That old chestnut," I mutter. "Whatever. Listen, I just need your help. I'm stranded."
"Stranded?"
The sound of lips kissing flesh crackles in my ear.
"Just put her down and listen to me, would you?" I practically beg.
"Fine." My dad sighs at the massive inconvenience. "What is it?"
"I got off at the wrong stop and the next bus isn't due for another forty minutes," I tell him. "Can you please come and get me? It's raining so bad."
My dad sucks air through his teeth like I just asked him for a kidney.
"That might be a little difficult, Harper. I'm a hundred miles away."
"What?" I snap, lifting a hand to shield my eyes from the rain.
"I'm opening a new club," he says. "Won't be back until early next week."
Why did I even bother getting out of bed this morning?
I rub my temple. "Awesome. Thanks for letting me know."
"Sorry, hon. Are you alone?"
I don't want to draw attention to myself by looking, but I'm relieved when I hear the truck's engine roar to life.
"Just me and some weird guy," I say. "I think he's leaving now. Guess I'll just wait for the next bus."
"You'll do no such thing," my dad snaps. "Stay right where you are. He'll be there in a few minutes."
"What?" I wipe the rain from my cheek. "Who will? And you don't even know where I am?"
My dad chuckles. "I always know where you are, Harper. Always."
The line clicks dead, and I stare down at my phone.
"Unbelievable," I mumble.
I know why he's tracking me, and it has nothing to do with him being a responsible father. My dad does this kind of thing because he sees me as his property.
I'm just another business asset to protect in his mind. If anything were to happen to his daughter, it would make Mark Reeves look weak.
And reputation is everything to men like my father.
I sometimes withhold my surname when I meet someone new because everyone knows who he is and what he does to people who cross him.
My thoughts fall silent when I hear the heavy scrape of footsteps behind me.
My neck creaks as I turn to find the yellow grin of the middle-aged trucker.
The stale stench of alcohol mingles with the rain as he swigs from a brown paper bag.
"You out here all alone, beautiful?"
Fuck.