“I didn’t know it was you that shouted me,” I explained. “I was already frightened and then I saw a shadowy figure in the street shouting my name, and I freaked out even more.” I hissed through my teeth as he turned his attention to my knees, rolling up my jeans so he could see the scratches there too. “And I don’t think you killed Sandy,” I added confidently. I didn’t know why I was so sure that it wasn’t him, I barely even knew him, but what I did know about him told me that he wouldn’t knowingly hurt a girl. A guy, yes, but a girl, no.

His lips parted as he turned his head, his gaze meeting mine. His eyes shone with gratitude in the darkness as his fingers deftly worked to roll my jeans up over my sore knees. “Well you and Olivia are the only ones that seem to believe that,” he muttered somewhat angrily. “Why were you frightened in the first place?” he asked, frowning.

I gulped. Zach didn’t know much about the harassment that had been going on. Other than family, I’d only told Charlotte, Beth and Luke. All Zach knew was that Chester had been poisoned because I told him at school the other day. “Some things have been going on recently. Someone’s been harassing me. I’ve been getting threatening letters and phone calls.”

His head snapped up at that. “Seriously? Wait, phone calls? Is that why the police kept asking me if I had another phone? They think I’m the one that’s harassing you?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

I shrugged, looking away from him because I actually felt terrible that he’d been arrested for it. “I guess so. The person broke into my house and poisoned Chester, which is why they were asking you about fingerprints in my house and on his collar,” I explained.

He sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, nodding slowly as if everything was now dropping into place and he understood what was going on. “That makes sense now. They just kept asking and asking how I explained my prints being on the collar and in your house. It’s so stupid. Of course I touched your dog, it was hard not to when he’s jumping around your feet asking to be petted,” he muttered. “And then they were asking about a phone, where I put it, where I bought it, that kind of thing, but I didn’t really know what they were talking about. Now it makes sense.”

I nodded, tentatively touching one of the cuts on my knee and wincing when it burned. “Apparently the number that keeps calling and messaging me, called Sandy an hour before she was murdered,” I added, my voice wavering as the trembling in my body seemed to double.

His eyes widened as his grip on my hands tightened. “The person who killed Sandy is contacting you too? No freaking wonder why they were busting my ass in there. They were relentless. Now everything makes sense.” He stood up, looking up the street. “There’s a café open up there. Let’s get you off the cold floor and in there in the warm. I’ll get you some ice for that foot before it swells too badly. I’ll take you home in a little while,” he suggested, before bending down and picking up my purse for me, collecting all of the contents and shoving it back inside.

He grabbed my shoe and sock, slipping it under his armpit before standing up and holding down both hands to me. I smiled gratefully and placed my hands in his, letting him pull me to my feet, trying not to wince as the little scratches ached on my hands. “Keep that foot off the floor,” he instructed, looping my arm over his shoulder and wrapping his other arm around my waist, taking most of my weight. I nodded in agreement, not planning to put it on the floor anyway because the ache was already bad enough and I didn’t want to make it any worse.

He looked down, frowning before reaching down and brushing his hand over my butt a couple of times, obviously wiping something from there. I gasped, shocked by his hands on my body. “Shouldn’t you a-ask before you start f-feeling me up in the middle of the s-street?” I joked weakly, stuttering as the shivering started to get worse.

His eyes widened and he whipped his hand away quickly, a subtle blush forming on his cheekbones as he looked away and up the street. “Sorry. You have mud and dirt all over you, I didn’t mean…” He shook his head, tightening his jaw.

I couldn’t help but chuckle at how uncomfortable he was. “I was k-kidding,” I muttered, giggling at his horrified expression. I hadn’t taken Zach for the innocent type; he was always so cocky and self-assured. Why was he so embarrassed to have touched my behind? It was obvious that it was an innocent move.

He sighed deeply. “Maisie, you’re shaking. I’m not sure if you’re going into shock,” he muttered.

I shook my head at that, tightening my arm around his neck as I shifted my weight on my good foot. “I-I’m f-fine. Just c-cold,” I stuttered as another shiver racked my body.

His eyes tightened. “Come on. Let’s get you in there so you can sit,” he said, nodding at the café again.

Awkwardly, we hobbled and hopped up the street to the café with Zach taking most of my weight as we went. As he pushed open the door and helped me inside, the smell of coffee hit me in the face making me moan in appreciation. The warmth of the place was a little overwhelming on my skin, but it was like my insides had frozen solid. The place was deserted.

The waiter looked up as we walked in, a startled expression on his face. “Is she alright?” he asked, coming over to us quickly.

Zach nodded, letting the door swing shut behind us. “She just fell. I think she might be going into shock though. Can you make some tea with lots of sugar, and then get some ice for her ankle?” he asked, leading me over to the nearest table and helping me into one of the metal chairs. The waiter disappeared. Zach smiled down at me as he pulled off his black hoodie and then crouched down in front of me. “Put this on,” he ordered, already pushing it down over my head.

“You’re so b-bossy,” I griped. He chuckled, and I leant forward in the chair, letting him help me put my arms into the oversized material.

The waiter came back then, setting down a mug of watery brown liquid in front of me and a jug of milk. “Sugar is there,” he said, motioning to a glass pot with a spout on the table. “I’ll just get some ice,” he added before stalking off again.

Zach stood up, grabbing the sugar pot and tipping it into the tea. I cringed and shook my head. “I don’t t-take s-sugar,” I mumbled almost incoherently as I tried to reach for his hand to stop him putting in more.

He shook his head, taking my hand in his and tipping the pot up another three times. “Today you do.” I watched, disgusted as he added a generous slosh of milk and then stirred it all up before pushing it towards me. “Drink it,” he ordered, guiding my hand towards the cup. I cringed again, wrapping my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers to get the blood going again. I had no plans to drink it though.

“I don’t l-like tea with s-sugar,” I protested, trying not to spill the contents of the mug because of my shaking hands.

He sighed deeply. “Drink it, Maisie. It’ll help you,” he insisted, wrapping his hands around mine and lifting the cup, guiding it towards my mouth. As I opened my mouth to protest he forced the cup up, tipping some of the sickly sweet warm liquid into my mouth. I groaned, swallowing it quickly just to get rid of it as he tipped the cup up again sloshing more into my mouth. After the third mouthful the waiter came back, so Zach took the cup away from my mouth, helping me set it down on the table.

“Ugh, that’s gross!” I whined, shuddering at the lingering taste in my mouth.

“Is this okay?” the waiter asked, holding out a bowl of ice and a small, thin, blue towel.

Zach nodded, smiling gratefully. “Perfect, thanks.” I watched as he laid out the towel before scooping out a handful of ice into the middle then wrapping it up into a thick bandage shape. “Let’s get this on then,” he mused, reaching down and taking hold of my calf, carefully guiding my foot up and into his lap. I looked down at it and turned my nose up, seeing a lump on the outside of my ankle. A small, surprised yelp left my lips as Zach laid the extremely cold towel containing the ice onto my ankle. “Alright?” Zach asked, nodding down at the makeshift icepack. I nodded, smiling gratefully. “Drink your tea,” he added, motioning towards my cup again. I pouted but reluctantly raised it to my lips, wincing as some of it spilled over the edge, dripping into my lap and down my chin. When I put the cup down he took my hand, picking up a napkin and dipping it into the ice bowl, wetting it a little before using it to clean up the cuts on my hands.

“So, why were you running? You said you were frightened, what spooked you?” Zach asked, cocking his head to the side and watching me curiously as he worked.

I sighed, reaching for my purse that he’d dropped onto the table when we came in. I pulled out my cell phone, noticing scratches on my screen and a little chip at the edge, but at least it wasn’t smashed beyond repair. “I got another couple of m-messages from the private number, and I f-freaked out. I was just trying to get back to my car so I could go home and then you shouted but I didn’t know it was you. I assumed it was the p-person who sent the messages. Want to s-see?” I offered, holding out my phone to him, noticing that the shaking was easing up slightly now.

He nodded, taking the phone from my hand and fiddling with it for a few seconds. I watched his face as he read them. “What the hell?” he growled. His head snapped up, looking around quickly, before fixing his eyes on the café window, squinting, obviously trying to check the street for the perpetrator. “Someone was watching you? Why the hell are you out on your own with all of this going on, Maisie? That’s stupid!” he berated. “You need to call the police, show them these. Did you see anyone else hanging around the street other than me?” he asked.

I shook my head quickly, drinking the last of my tea. “No, I was too busy fleeing for my life,” I joked. The sugar was obviously kicking in now, my brain was slowly returning to normal, and I could focus again.

Zach didn’t laugh. Instead, he put the phone down on the table and slid it across to me. “Why the hell has your brother let you out on your own? Does he know all what’s going on, that someone’s calling you and stuff? He shouldn’t let you out on your own, I thought better of him than that,” he ranted, shaking his head in disbelief.

I frowned at his anger. It was kind of sweet, I knew he was only angry because he obviously didn’t want to see me hurt, but I still didn’t like him complaining about my brother – or inadvertently about my dad. “I was going to Charlotte’s. I was supposed to go straight there and call when I got there. But I forgot the DVD so I stopped at the rental place. I thought it would be fine. I didn’t think,” I muttered. Suddenly, what I’d said registered in my head. I was supposed to call home. My dad was expecting a call any minute to tell me I’d got to Charlotte’s safely. I winced, knowing he was going to be even angrier with me than Zach was when he found out that I’d stopped to get a movie.

Zach made a scoffing noise in the back of his throat. “If you were my sister I’d never let you hear the end of this,” he muttered.

“Do you have a sister?” I asked, suddenly aware that I didn’t know much about him at all.

He shook his head quickly, still looking angry with me for being out on my own. “No. I’m an only child.”

I stored that little titbit of information for another day but tried to get back to the matter at hand. “Zach, will you do me a massive favour?” I asked, smiling what I hoped was a persuasive smile. He nodded in agreement, so I continued. “Will you call my dad and tell him what happened? Tell him where I am and that I’m fine, but ask him to come and get me?” I asked.

He raised one eyebrow. “So you can prolong the asskicking you’re going to get for not going straight to Charlotte’s house?” he teased.

“Yeah. Please?” I begged. I just needed another few minutes before I was subjected to that scolding. Hopefully by the time my dad arrived here he would have calmed down slightly before I had to deal with him.

Zach sighed, picking up my phone and finding my home phone number on there. “You owe me,” he muttered as he put the phone to his ear. I watched as Zach explained that he was with me and that I’d gotten frightened by a text and fallen over. He told my dad where we were, offered to drive me home and was obviously subject to a verbal lashing because he winced a lot and opened his mouth to speak but then was obviously cut off. The whole time he was on the phone, Zach’s fingers were tracing a pattern on my shin. I didn’t think he was even aware he was doing it. It was extremely distracting but nice in a strange, unfamiliar way. No one had really touched me like that other than Luke, and it wasn’t that it was sexual at all, but it was just intimate in a comforting way. I liked it.

When he disconnected the call he smirked over at me. “You’re in deep trouble, missy. Your dad asked me to pass that message on,” he gloated smugly. I groaned helplessly, not even bothering to protest. No doubt I would be grounded for as long as I lived when my dad arrived. Zach lifted the towel off of my foot, refilling it with ice. “This looks a lot better now,” he commented, placing the freshly made icepack back over my ankle.

“Where did you learn first aid anyway?” I asked. He’d not even been fazed by me hurting myself at all. I would have been a mess if someone had fallen and then gone into shock in front of me.

He shrugged. “You pick up a lot of stuff as you go along. I see a lot of injuries while I’m training,” he answered. “So, do you have any idea who’s sending you those messages?” he asked, motioning towards my phone.