He Looked Back Read online

  HE LOOKED BACK

  BY MELISSA HOLLANDAISE

  HE LOOKED BACK

  Copyright © 2015 by Melissa Hollandaise

  This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, places, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All characters are over the age of 18.

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes, either in printed or electronic format, without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

  All quotations used in book are part of public domain works and translated copies existing in public domain.

  Dedications

  To my beloved friends and readers, it would not have been possible without your support and encouragement.

  You made this book possible.

  Thank you for everything!

  Prologue

  The proximity of our bodies is so close, I feel his breath fanning out onto my face. The temperature is rising rapidly in the small space, with fear and anxiety. I rest my head back against the wall, knowing any moment my apartment will be ransacked and sifted through for any sign of us two. They'll tear through every room until they find this one, the only one that locks from the inside. And then they won't hesitate to break it down.

  I feel his eyes on me, they burn into my skin like lasers. Even in the darkness of the small closet we're crammed into, I see the electrifying green of his gaze.

  "Are you afraid?"

  His low voice rings through the silence. I lean my head over to look at him, eyes locking with his. I think of all the different times he's asked me that same question.

  "Are you?" I counter.

  He looks away, taking a breath.

  My throat is dry and my skin is damp with nervous sweat. I know my makeup smudges around my eyes and my chestnut hair is unruly, falling down past my shoulders. My heart pounds loudly in my chest.

  "Katie."

  I snap my eyes up to meet his again.

  "I want you to promise me something." His voice is low and raspy, laced with despair.

  I nod slowly.

  "If something happens here...I need to know that..." He takes a breath, running a hand through his hair. "I want you to run, okay?" He looks back at me.

  I furrow my brow. "What do you mean?"

  "I want you to go back to London, I want you to forget about me." There is nothing in his eyes but pain.

  I shake my head. "I...I can't..."

  "You have to do it, Katie, do you understand? If one of us is going to make it, I want it to be you," he says harshly, a vein throbbing in his neck.

  My heart rate quickens. "No," I say. "I won't promise that."

  "You need to," he says, shaking his head. "You need to leave here and never come back. Don't come looking for me, either--"

  "I won't do that!" I cut him off. He shuts his mouth, jaw tense. I take a breath. "If something happens here, it's either both of us or neither of us."

  He stares at me, hard; searching my eyes desperately. A muscle throbs in his jaw and his breathing is uneven. His neck glistens with sweat.

  He finally breaks my gaze, looking down. It terrifies me to think that he won't make it through; that they'll let me go and not him.

  "Not everything turns out the way you want it to," he says after a few minutes of silence. "Not everything turns out perfect--"

  "We can't think that way," I say. "It'll tear us apart."

  "If that doesn't, there are a thousand other things that will."

  This is how it's always been; I the optimist and he the pessimist.

  "What happens if you make it and I don't?" I dare to question.

  His eyes snap up to me. "Then I'd die wishing it was me instead of you."

  My heart is in my throat. Warm tears prick at my eyes and I wipe them quickly.

  "Stop talking like that," I snap. "Stop it."

  He looks taken aback by my harsh tone, but he doesn't say anything.

  "All I'm saying," he begins again. "Is--"

  "I know exactly what you're saying, and I want you to stop saying it!" My voice sounds high pitched, verging on hysterical.

  He reaches out and takes my hand in his, the rough skin of his palm touching the soft skin of mine. He rubs his thumb over the back of my hand soothingly. I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

  "Just promise me," he whispers. "Promise me you'll stay hidden."

  I don't answer.

  "Please, Katie," he begs. "I need to know."

  I swallow and nod. If this is what he needs to hear, then I'll agree to it.

  "Say it," he pleads.

  "I'll stay hidden," I whisper.

  Just as he steps toward me to pull me into an embrace, a fierce pounding sounds and the door next to us is ripped off its hinges.

  Chapter One

  4 months earlier

  I sit perched on my small couch, staring at the phone.

  I've barely had time to unpack anything or put anything into place because I've been staring at my damn silent phone for the past thirty minutes. I've only been in my new apartment for three hours, and all I've been doing is wait for this stupid phone call.

  My eyes flick to the clock. It's six thirty. Weren't they supposed to call at six?

  I sigh and stand up. I might as well unpack to pass the time.

  Just as I open a box holding some of my clothes, my phone bursts into song and I scramble for it. I practically jump over the couch, accidentally knocking the phone onto the ground, uttering "shit" under my breath as I slide it open, catching my breath.

  "Hello?" I answer breathlessly.

  "Hello, Miss Harris? This is Caitlin Clarke from Chronicle Publishing."

  My heart leaps to my throat. "Yes, hello."

  "I'm calling to inform you that your interview went very well the other afternoon, and you got the position. Congratulations." The woman, Caitlin, on the other line sounds smooth and businesslike.

  I try to match her tone. "Thank you very much," I manage to say without sounding too overexcited.

  "You begin Monday, where you will be assigned a desk and meet with your boss, Mr. Morris. I look forward to seeing you around the office. Have a lovely day."

  And with that, she hangs up.

  I make sure my phone is safely locked before jumping up into the air, flailing around in a twisted victory dance. This is the job I've been dreaming of since I was a teenager, and now I've finally got it.

  I quickly pick up my phone and dial James's number.

  "James," I gush into the phone. "I got it. I got the job!"

  I hear him sigh. "Katie, honey, I'm at work."

  I instantly deflate. "But...I got the job. The job I've wanted...forever."

  "And I'm happy for you," he says. "But I really have to run, duty calls--"

  "All right, fine."

  "Don't be mad, Katie. I'll take you out tonight, how about that?"

  A small smile makes its way onto my face. "Okay."

  "Perfect. See you tonight."

  I put down my phone and face the stacks of boxes that line my apartment. I sigh and begin to unpack.

  James and I have been dating for a few months now. We met when I was visiting Edinburgh from London. I immediately took a liking to him, and when I told him I was moving here, we began to go out.

  He works as a medical intern while he finishes med school. I don't really blame him for not having much time for me; his job is very important and busy. I know he'll make time for me later--he always does.

  The apartment I moved into is small on most people's standards, but it's big enough for me. One bedroom that overlooks the Pearl District, my favorite part of Edinburgh. It's very clo
se to Chronicle Publishing, which was my intention even if I didn't end up getting the job. I guess I was pretty intent on getting it, anyway.

  I've always thought the Pearl District is the best part of Edinburgh. Maybe it's all the aspiring artists and writers in this area that I like, but something about the atmosphere makes me feel instantly at home. Granted, it was hard to find a decent apartment within my budget, but with James's help we found this place. And I love it.

  I put aqua sheets on my bed and begin organizing my different pictures and trinkets. A picture of James and I goes on my dresser, along with a picture of my mother and father. A photo of my sister and I comes next, both of us smiling in Central Park. I feel a pang in my chest as I look at the photo. That was before everything happened.

  I know, you're probably wondering why I moved from such a bustling city like London to less exciting Edinburgh, Essex. And why I'm working in publishing here when all the best publishers are in London. I suppose I wanted a fresh start, a change of scenery. And I love the character of Edinburgh, it's a beautiful city. Chronicle Publishing happens to be one of the best publishers in the country, too.

  I surprise myself by finishing unpacking my bedroom, putting my hands on my hips. The clock says eight. James should be off by now.

  Just as I'm thinking this, there's a swift knock at my door. My heart flutters as I walk to the door, throwing it open with a smile on my face, expecting to see James.

  My smile fades when I realize it isn't James at all. Instead it's a tall boy around my age, with dark hair surrounding his face and emerald green eyes. His lips are pursed in a slightly annoyed expression and he wears a white Rolling Stones t-shirt with black jeans.

  "Hello," I say.

  "Hi," he says. His tone is sharp, and I'm slightly taken aback. "I noticed you moved in here and I just wanted to let you know that I'd appreciate it if you kept the noise level down." I notice a distinct British accent in his deep voice.

  "I...I wasn't aware I was making any noise," I say.

  "You weren't," he says. "Yet. I'm just telling you for the future."

  I furrow my brow. "That was a bit unnecessary."

  "Yeah, well," he snaps.

  "Look, I don't understand why you're being so harsh--"

  "Just keep the noise level down," he interrupts me. He turns on his heel and stalks across the hall, disappearing into the apartment directly across from mine.

  I stand at the door a few moments before returning to my apartment. He came over to tell me not to make noise, ever. No "welcome to the building" or "welcome to Edinburgh." Just..."keep the noise level down."

  Who was he, anyway? He didn't tell me his name or anything.

  I push the boy and his rudeness out of my head as I return to my room, continuing to unpack.

  My phone rings from my pocket and I bring it to my ear.

  "Hello?"

  "Katie, I'm sorry, but they're putting me on call tonight," James says. "I wish I could take you out, but--"

  "Oh." I sigh. "It's fine."

  "Don't be upset--"

  "I'm not. Just...save some lives for me." I make my tone cheery, putting on a smile even though he can't see.

  James chuckles. "Will do."

  I hang up and sit on my bed. I guess I'm staying in tonight.

  I get up and begin to cook myself dinner, my thoughts returning to the boy that lives across the hall. Maybe I should go over and ask him why he was so rude. Or ask him to keep the noise down in the future. I almost laugh at the thought, but I know I'd never be gutsy enough to actually say that. Maybe I should go over and introduce myself, and pretend our earlier encounter never happened? That would be neighborly, right?

  Satisfied with this plan, I finish cooking and eat my dinner, washing my dishes when I finish. I grab my keys and walk across the hall, reaching out and knocking on his door.

  The door swings open, and the boy appears, his mouth settling into a frown when his jade eyes land on me. I take a step back, recomposing myself. Something about him slightly intimidates me as well as annoys me.

  "Can I help you?" He snaps.

  I brush off his rudeness and plaster a smile on my face. "Hi," I say, sticking out my hand for him to shake. "I'm Katie Harris, I just moved in across the hall."

  He stares at my hand for a moment. "And?" He says.

  I drop my hand to my side. "And...I guess we're neighbors now."

  He rolls his eyes. "Fantastic."

  I cross my arms over my chest, searching for a reply. When he sees that I have none, he begins to shut the door.

  "Wait!" I say.

  The door stops and he looks at me expectantly.

  "Who are you?" I ask.

  "What's it to you?"

  "Well, we're neighbors."

  "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

  "I...I don't know."

  "Exactly." He begins shutting the door again, but this time I reach up and catch it.

  "Can you at least tell me your name?" I ask.

  He stares at me a moment before replying. "Dylan," he says. "Dylan Wilson." And with that, he shuts the door.

  Chapter Two

  I step into the elevator, struggling to push the button. I hold multiple overflowing grocery bags in my arms after a very successful trip to the supermarket. I end up jabbing the button with my elbow, huffing.

  It's Sunday, and I begin my new job tomorrow. I've been a nervous wreck all day, worrying about the impressions I'm going to make tomorrow. This is the start of my career, and I can't mess it up.

  Don't get me wrong, I'm incredibly excited for this job, too. I have hardly stopped smiling or thinking about it since I got the call the other day. I wonder what my coworkers will be like. I hope I make some friends in the workplace.

  The elevator dings to my floor and I step out, my arms aching from carrying the heavy bags. I struggle with my keys and accidentally drop them on the floor.

  "Great," I huff. I'm about to bend down slowly to retrieve them when a hand reaches out and takes them before I can. I look up to see a boy with deep brown eyes and a kind face.

  "You dropped these," he says, smiling at me.

  "Thanks," I say. "I appreciate it."

  "No worries," he says. "I'm George."

  "Katie."

  "You moved in here?" He gestures to my apartment.

  "Yeah, yesterday." I pause. "Do you live in this building?"

  George laughs and shakes his head. "No, but I have a friend that does," he replies.