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Twenty

With the receptionist staring up at me with a friendly, expectant look on her face, I feel my confidence falter.

What in thehellam I doing?

I was free; free and clear from Jed and having ties to any murderers. I could’ve just gone about my life, found a normal boyfriend, and just moved on. But, well, I’d tried that for three whole days. And every single minute had been absolute hell, when all of me craved Jed.

Now I feel like I’m the psycho. It’s more believable for me to be out of my mind with how much I miss him. I've known him for a week, not a lifetime, after all. Breaks are normal. Being away from someone, even if you love them, isnormal.

Maybe this means I’m just not that normal. Or I have unhealthy, codependent tendencies like my therapist had once hinted at when my mom had died and I was unable to even get dressed in the morning. If that’s the case, then I definitely owe her an apology for ghosting her and telling my dad she’d started talking about exorcisms mid-session, so he’d never take me back to see her again.

“Miss?” The receptionist is starting to look concerned as she looks at me, though she maintains her kind, professional smile impeccably while her eyes widen. “Are you all right?”

No. I’m having an existential crisis the likes of which this office building has ever seen.

“Yeah,” I say, trying to fix a confident smile on my face. I’m sure I don’t succeed. But the best I can hope for right now is that I don’t look psychotic, or in need of a straight jacket complete with a padded room. “Sorry, it’s just been a long day and I lost my train of thought.” It’s been a longweek, to be honest. But she doesn’t need to know my pathetic life story. Not only that, but in the past twenty-four hours I’ve done enough sleuthing to track down how to get to Wren and his business hours that I could putprivate investigatoron my resumé and only barely be lying.

“Are you here to see someone?” the receptionist prods as I stand there stupidly. “Or…do you have a delivery?”

“I’m here to see someone,” I say quickly, knowing that I’m really failing at my calm, cool, and collected act. If she throws me out, it’s all over and I’ll have to do somethingreallyshady like wait for him in the parking lot and try not to get arrested. “Is Wren Crystal here today? I’m supposed to discuss some business with him.” I’d settled on this explanation, figuring it’s better than nothing. At worst, I could bring up working for them in the past, and how Wren had told me that if I needed a reference or if there was any issue with getting paid, I could talk to him.

Both of which are untrue statements, of course.

“Let me just make sure he’s here today.” Her eyes drop to her computer, and I hear her clicking on the keyboard somewhere on her side of the desk. I watch, trying to look patient, as she flicks through screens, then finally rewards me with a smile. “He’s off in thirty minutes, but Wren is in his office. Do you know how to find him?” I find it strange that she’s not going to call up to him, to make sure that I’m not some crazy girl that’shere to profess her love to him. But maybe that’s just how he is. Or just howGreenCois in general.

How lax of them.

“Not really,” I admit, hoping it doesn’t blow my sad excuse for a story. “I’ve only been here a couple of times.” That part, at least, isn’t a lie. I’d been here twice last year whenGreenCohad hired me to do their party photos. And neither of those times had I been anywhere other than the event space and a meeting room. But damn, I do remember they’d had amazing donuts.

“You’ll take this elevator up to the seventh floor.” The receptionist gestures to the elevator behind her, at the beginning of a hallway leading to another part of the building. “Turn left, then head straight to the end of the hallway. Wren’s office is at the corner, with the big windows and his name on the plaque.” She rewards me with another smile. “You can’t miss it, or him. I promise.”

“Thank you so much. I appreciate all your help.” I know at least how toactlike I’m not crazy, and I give her one last quick wave before crossing the large lobby. When I reach it, I gently smash the elevator button like all of my hopes and dreams depend on it.

Well, okay, not all of them. But Idoreally need to see Wren.

The elevator dings, doors opening so I can step into the freshly cleaned cab. I press the button labeled7and the doors close smoothly, no sign of creaking or unoiled gears anywhere in sight. But I suppose when it’s aGreenCo—one of the richest and most profitable companies in Akron—elevator, it’s no wonder the elevators are immaculately cared for and clean.

Though, they also have the worst elevator music. It makes my ears burn as I watch the floors go by, leaning on the back wall with my gaze fixed on the counter that beeps lightly with the changing of floors. Is it just me, or is this the slowest elevator known to man?

Finally, when I’m sure I’ve aged about forty years, the elevator dings with more conviction and the doors slide open. I take the provided escape, glad that the music plaguing my ears is left far behind while I take a left and breeze down the hallway like I know exactly what I’m doing.

It’s too bad that I don’t.

My plan started at the door, and ends in about twenty feet, where I estimate Wren’s office to be. I figure I need to tell Wren about Tyson Miller’s brother, and the fact that the cops showed up at my apartment. But other than that? I have no idea what I’m doing here.

My steps slow as I reach the office, my eyes fixed on the door where I see the shiny, silver plaque engraved with black letters.

WREN CRYSTAL glares at me from the sign, taunting me with how close I am to getting what I’m pretty sure I want. Or at least finding the access to it.

But…

I bite my lip, a thought occurring to me that hadn’t before this unfortunate moment. What if Jed doesn’t want anything to do with me? What if his words had been just that? It wouldn’t be the first time, or the second. There’s a big chance he was only being that nice to me to make sure I wouldn’t tell the police on him and his friends.

Worse, what if he’d decided I wasn’t worth it when I left his cabin and didn’t look back? Then it would be all my fault, and my stomach plummets at that painful possibility. It would be literallyall my fucking fault, if that’s the case. And all I would’ve had to do was not run away like an idiot.

Once I work through my racing thoughts and blink a few times, I realize I’m staring into Wren’s office window with someone looking back at me.

Only, it isn’t Wren.