The Boss Who Saved Me from My Stalker Ex

CHAPTER 10: Steps Toward Healing

POV: Evelyn Reeve

The cabin hummed with the restless energy of people desperate to be somewhere else.

I watched the latecomers shuffle down the aisle, their rolling luggage clattering against the floor like a rhythmic, hollow heartbeat. The flight attendants stood at the front, their smiles practiced and sharp—perfectly ironed uniforms hiding whatever fatigue they felt.

Jovan and I had boarded early.

I took the window seat, my fingers white-knuckled as I gripped the unbuckled seatbelt. The plastic felt cold against my palm, a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from my cheeks.

Jovan sat beside me, his large frame making the middle seat look ridiculously small. He was stiff, his knees nearly touching the seat in front of him.

He glanced at me for a split second before looking away, fixing his stare on the safety manual in the seat pocket. He was giving me space—physical and emotional—as if he were afraid that a single wrong word would cause me to shatter right there in 4B.

Around us, the chaos of Manhattan’s hustle continued. A man grunted as he shoved a massive carry-on into the overhead bin; a woman hissed at her husband for forgetting their headphones.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the cabin doors are now closed. Please ensure your seatbelts are fastened..."

The flight attendant’s voice over the speaker felt miles away. My mind was still stuck back in Midtown, replaying the look on Archer’s face until it became a blurred, ugly smear in my memory.

I clicked the belt into place.

Outside, the plane’s wing sat motionless against the tarmac, a silver blade cutting through the hazy afternoon light. I didn't feel peaceful. I just felt… numb.

Jovan rubbed his palms against his dark slacks, a rare sign of agitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, careful baritone that barely carried over the engine’s whine.

"If you need anything… just tell me. Anything at all."

His eyes searched mine, wary of overstepping.

I gave a small, jerky nod. "I will. Thanks, Jovan."

The plane began its pushback. The cabin lights dimmed, and a low vibration shivered through the floorboards. On the screens, the safety demonstration played out with robotic grace.

"Good afternoon, everyone. We’re looking at a flight time of about three hours down to Miami..."

The captain’s voice was steady—the kind of voice that made you believe the world wasn't falling apart.

As we hit the runway and the engines roared to life, the force pressed me back into the seat. Manhattan fell away, shrinking into a grid of glass and steel until it was nothing but a memory swallowed by the clouds.

The afternoon sun bled through the window, painting the cabin in soft, amber hues. It looked like a dream. It felt like a funeral.

Jovan picked up a magazine, flipping through the pages without reading a single word. He just needed something to do with his hands. Every few minutes, I felt his gaze linger on my shoulder, checking for a tremor, but he never pushed.

My thoughts were a tangled mess. Was I running away? Could Archer have actually changed?

The questions were poison. I forced myself to stare at the white expanse of the clouds until my eyes ached.

Time slowed down to the steady drone of the turbines. It felt like an eternity before the nose of the plane dipped and the blue of the Atlantic began to rise to meet us.

Miami appeared through the haze—the white shorelines, the sprawling palm-lined suburbs, and finally, the heat-shimmered runway of MIA.

The wheels hit the asphalt with a sharp jolt.

"Welcome to Miami," the speaker crackled.

I took a long, shaky breath. This was it. A clean break, even if the edges were still bleeding.

The humidity hit like a physical weight the moment we stepped out of the terminal. The air smelled of salt, jet fuel, and the looming promise of a thunderstorm.

Jovan didn't ask. He simply grabbed my heavy suitcase from the carousel, his knuckles strained against the handle, and led the way to the ride-share app pickup.

"Uber?" he asked, his voice short but not unkind.

"Yeah," I replied, pulling my cardigan tighter despite the heat.

We slid into the back of a black sedan. The door shut with a muffled thud, sealing us back into the silence.

Jovan leaned back into the leather seat, exhaling slowly. "I'll get you settled at Shae's place first."

"Jovan… thank you. Really. And I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess," I said, trying to force a smile that didn't quite reach my eyes.

He gave me a look that was almost a frown—warm, but firm. "It's not a mess, Evelyn. And you're not a burden. Seriously."

The drive to the coast passed in a blur of neon signs and swaying palms. The traffic thinned as we entered a quiet, gated community near the water.

The car pulled up in front of a modern, minimalist house. It had clean white lines, a small manicured lawn, and large glass windows that reflected the evening sky.

Jovan jumped out and headed for the trunk. I followed, my legs feeling heavy, my shoulders slumped under the weight of the last twenty-four hours.

When I tried to take the suitcase from him, his grip tightened on the handle. He shook his head once. "I've got it," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. I just nodded, my lip curling in a small, tired sign of defeat.

The front door swung open. Shae appeared, dressed in a loose silk robe over leggings, her wavy brown hair falling over her shoulders.

The moment she saw us, her face crumbled into a mask of pure concern. "Evelyn…"

She moved fast. Before I could say a word, Shae had me wrapped in a fierce, protective hug. She smelled like expensive lavender and home.

"Honey, are you okay?" she whispered into my ear.

"I’m… I’m here, Shae. Jovan helped. If he hadn't—" My voice cracked, the words catching in my throat like glass.

Shae pulled back slightly, her hands still on my arms. She looked past me to Jovan, who was standing a few feet back with my luggage.

"Thank you, Jovan. Truly. I know you had a lot on your plate."

Jovan offered a small, respectful tilt of his head. "It was the only thing to do."

"Come in for a drink?" Shae invited, her voice softening.

Jovan reached into his pocket for his phone, checking a notification before shaking his head. "I wish I could, but the Miami office is expecting me for a virtual briefing on Teams in twenty minutes. The boss is on a warpath."

Shae nodded understandingly. "Next time, then."

"Definitely," Jovan said. He handed the suitcase over to me, his fingers brushing mine for a fraction of a second. "Take care of yourself, Evie."

I gripped the handle with both hands. "Thank you… for everything."

He gave me one last lingering look, a ghost of a smile on his face, before turning back to the car. The engine started, and I watched the taillights fade into the Florida dusk.

Shae’s hand settled on my arm. "Let’s go inside, sweetie."

The house was a sanctuary. The living room was bathed in soft, warm light; a charcoal grey sofa looked like a cloud, and the air was thick with the scent of lavender candles.

"Sit. Rest," Shae commanded, taking my suitcase. "I’ll put this in the guest room."

I sank into the sofa, my spine finally relaxing against the cushions. "Thanks, Shae…"

She was back in a minute, moving with a focused energy. She grabbed two chilled bottles of water from the fridge and sat down beside me, handing one over.

"Drink."

I took a sip, the cold water stinging my throat in a good way.

Shae’s face was serious. She wasn't judging; she was just holding back her own fury for my sake.

"I’m sorry, Evie. I know your head is spinning. I don't want to dig into the dirt yet, but… god, I’m so pissed after what Sophie told me."

I took off my sunglasses, leaning my head back. My eyes were swollen, the skin around them raw and red.

Shae’s eyes welled up as she looked at me. She reached out, stroking my hair with a tenderness that nearly undid me. In that moment, everything I’d been holding back—the betrayal, the fear, the exhaustion—threatened to spill over.

"Evelyn," she said firmly, "you deserve so much better than that pathetic excuse for a man."

I tried to smile, but it felt more like a sob that had lost its way.