Chapter 18
Graham’s quiet watch over Evelyn happened mostly at night.
Evelyn sometimes stayed late at Harborbend Community High to sort lesson plans or prep for
classes; she often didn’t leave until well after dark.
Graham’s Jeep waited in the alley’s darkest corner, silent and out of sight. He watched the light in her classroom go out and saw her slender silhouette step through the school gates.
Then he would get out of his car and shadow her from a distance–hundreds of yards behind-
just close enough to make sure she reached that rundown apartment safely.
Only after he heard the faint click of her door locking upstairs did he turn back and return to the
cold solitude of his room at the Crestwood Suites.
He watched her adapt to life here: from a quiet withdrawal to the small, private laughs she shared with colleagues.
He noticed her walking beneath the sycamores in a plain blue dress, calm and quietly resilient. The knowledge that she was doing well–without him–burned at him day and night.
Graham grew quieter, more withdrawn. He smoked constantly; the ashtray in his hotel room was always overflowing.
He stood at the window and stared toward the high school for hours at a stretch, his eyes heavy with pain and an ache of regret he couldn’t untangle.
Through an old war buddy he began routing anonymous donations to nonprofit education programs in Evelyn’s hometown.
He sent money to the orphanage there, too. In the memo line of every transfer he wrote two words: For Redemption.
As if that distant, silent gesture could ease the weight of his guilt.
Then another man arrived, and his torment deepened.
It was a Saturday afternoon. Graham had parked his Jeep, as usual, well away from the school gates. He saw Evelyn come out–but instead of heading straight home she waited at the entrance.
A young man in a white button–up and khakis rode up on a bicycle. He was tall, composed, with wire–rimmed glasses that gave him a scholarly look.
He dismounted, reached into his bike basket, and handed Evelyn two books wrapped in brown paper, offering them with an easy smile.
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Graham was too far away to hear what they said, but he saw the faint, genuine smile that crossed
Evelyn’s face as she took the books. She nodded and exchanged a few words.
The man tilted his head when he spoke; his expression was attentive and kind. It was a look
Graham had never seen on her before–a relaxed, almost admiring smile.
His fist clenched so hard the veins stood out on the back of his hand. Jealousy, sharp and poisonous, shot through him.
His eyes stung red at the urge to run over and explode–then shame and powerlessness slammed
into him.
What right did he have to barge up? To do what–call himself her ex–husband? The bastard who’d hurt her so badly?
All he could do was crouch in the dark, like a rat in the gutter, and watch helplessly as the scene unfolded. Jealousy gnawed at his heart until his body shook. He was in pain, but he didn’t even
have the right to make a sound.
Later, after some careful questions to Julian–his friend at Harborbend city hall–Graham learned
the man’s name: Nathan Reed.
The youngest, most promising staffer at the city library, a PhD from a top university, well–read and upright, from a respectable family.
Nathan was overseeing a partnership between the high school and the library, which was how he’d met Evelyn.
He admired the way she kept pursuing knowledge despite everything.
He lent her books, and sometimes he invited her to literary salons and lectures at the library that weren’t open to the general public.
“Miss Hart’s had a rough go,” Julian said casually. “She looks fragile, but she’s tougher than she seems. Nathan’s a good guy–no ego, sharp mind. He’s looked out for her.”
Every word stabbed Graham like a blade.
Looked out for her?
Who was he to look out for her?
Did Nathan even know what she was to him?
Graham swallowed the words down. He had lost any claim to her long ago.
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