MADELINE’S POV
I slammed the door shut behind me and turned the lock so hard my hand hurt.
Then I checked it again. And again.
Windows next. Curtains. The latch. Everything.
My chest rose and fell like I’d run miles instead of a few steps from the gate. My heart wouldn’t slow, no matter how hard I tried to breathe through it. I pressed my back to the door and slid down until I was sitting on the cold floor, knees pulled to my chest.
He is here.
France was supposed to be distance. An escape to clear my head from all the dramas in Texas.
Not this.
I dragged in a shaky breath and told myself I was being ridiculous. He hadn’t followed me inside. He hadn’t even moved. He’d just sat there—calm, composed, smug—like he already owned the ground I was standing on.
I pushed myself up and cro
