From Yesterday by Miriam Epstein Read Free Book Online Page B

just have some things I have to get done this afternoon."
    Brady gets up and starts folding the blanket. "I'll give you some privacy, Paige. Thanks for indulging me and letting me know you were okay. Are you sure everything else is fine? Be honest."
    He's terrible at folding a blanket so I take it from him and start refolding it into a rectangle, not whatever misshapen thing he was creating. "Yes, Brady, everything else is just fine."
    At the door, he turns around before leaving and puts his hand on my arm, just under my shoulder. That familiar warmth starts to inch its way into my skin. "I know you're not telling me the truth about that envelope, Paige. I'm sure you are just trying to keep your business to yourself, and I respect that, but it's never a bad thing to ask for help. You can talk to me about anything, ok? I won't judge you, I promise."
    I'm grateful that he doesn't wait for a response because I'm not sure I could speak without my emotion coming out in my voice right now. I close the door and lean against it. What have I gotten myself into?

CHAPTER TEN

    I don't go to Brady's spinning class. I spend a good chunk of my morning staring at the necklace that was sent to me. I can't let go of the creepy feeling I get just from touching it. The packaging had my name and address on it, but no postage or return address. I suppose that makes sense since the guard did say it was sent by a private courier, and who would send such a sick thing to someone with no way to contact them? No one that I can think of. It's the kind of sick joke I'd almost expect Nicole to pull. That is, if my sister was still alive. She always did have a very twisted sense of humor.
    Part of me feels like I should be scared to be in my apartment alone. First the lipstick; now this. They are not friendly gestures. The thing is, I'm not afraid. It's a particularly stupid way to feel when it's clear that someone wants me to be afraid. I should tell somebody, maybe take the evidence to the police.
    Then I think, evidence of what? I washed the lipstick off of the mirror that very day and threw out that tube of it. The envelope from the necklace is tossed as well. Brady threw it out at the restaurant last night at my insistence. If I went to the cops, they would either laugh at me or start asking questions about who the necklace belonged to and that would lead back to my parents.
    No.
    Not an option.
    I'm a big girl, and I can take care of myself.
    Finally, around two o' clock, I make myself get up and I go to campus to get some studying done. I stop in the food court area and grab a coffee and a veggie wrap, stuff it into my bag so I can get into the library, and go find a nice secluded spot on the third floor. For some reason, no one ever comes up here, it's as quiet as can be. The hours fly by as I study for a Calculus exam that is being so thoughtfully administered on the first day of the second week of school. Calculus is just so much fun and so very easy. Or not, but it does manage to distract me for a while until I look at my watch and notice it is 5:15 and I am missing the cycling workout. I feel a tiny twinge of regret; I do enjoy seeing Brady in workout gear with sweat gleaming all over that body, but it's probably for the best. I don't need him thinking I'm so obsessed with him that I'll show up everywhere he is at anytime. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all of that.
    I really have to stop thinking about Brady in any kind of capacity that could include something other than casual friendship.
    It is still light outside by the time I walk back from the library. I try not to walk alone at night, because it is a long stretch of dark road that could prevent a driver from seeing me or conceal an axe murderer in all the shrubbery and trees. Also, I'm not that stupid. When the time changes, though, I'll ahve to come back earlier because it will be dark by 6, which is the time now.
    "Good evening," I call out to the front desk guard as I walk