Love, Utley (Love Letters #1)

Every muscle in my body is tight.

I don’t care that we were caught.

I don’t care that everyone can see my love for Hannah in each and every one of these photos.

What I do care about is the fact that someone followed us.

They saw us, took photos of us, and followed us to my fucking car.

“Who?” I growl the question.

“It was anonymous,” Brenda answers.

I straighten to my full height but keep my eyes on the computer screen. I keep my eyes on the photo of us against my car. The photo where Hannah is looking at me like she can’t live without me.

I keep my eyes on that photo because I know how she feels.

“Do you really want me to think you’re this incompetent?” I ask quietly. “Tell me who sent the photos.”

“They were sent to us from an outside email.”

“Tell me the name, or I’ll get the name myself.” I step back from the computer and point at the screen. “But you’re sending me that email either way.”

She gives me a name.

And I stride out of the office.

“Maddox!” Dana calls after me, but I don’t slow down.

He’s a fucking dead man.

My hands open and close, making fists and releasing them.

Friday. This happened Friday, and Hannah didn’t tell me.

She didn’t tell me when we texted that day. She didn’t mention it during any of the calls we had over the weekend. She didn’t tell me when we ate dinner together Saturday night on a video call.

She didn’t tell me.

Her beautiful face flashes in my mind, and that’s all it takes to calm any anger directed at her.

Because her eyes say it all. They hold all her history. All her struggles. All her triumphs.

Of course she wouldn’t tell me. She’d want to take care of it herself.

She’s always had to take care of everything herself.

Not anymore.

Not now that she has me.

It’s my turn to take care of things.

And I’m starting with this prick.

Over the cubicles, I can see him.

He’s leaning against one of the low walls, crowding into a woman’s space. And she doesn’t look thrilled about him being there.