The Reckless Collision

Sam.

~~~

Not long after Scott and I separated, Paul came by for a visit. He had something to share about what he'd found in Scott's apartment, and I was eager—and a little anxious—to hear it.

"Did you find something new?" I asked as we walked into the living room. My voice was steady, but my heart raced.

Paul dropped into the armchair with the ease of someone who didn't follow rules too strictly. "We got into Scott's apartment," he said, his tone calm but charged with meaning. He leaned back, his dark blazer creasing slightly as he crossed one ankle over the opposite knee.

My eyebrows shot up. "You did?"

"But," he added quickly, holding up a hand, "if anything comes of this, I didn't tell you that."

"What do you mean 'if anything happens'?" I perched on the couch, folding my legs beneath me.

"You don't need to know the details right now." He shook his head, as though brushing away an annoying fly. "I managed to access his computer, but the files are heavily encrypted. My tech girl is working on cracking them, but with Scott's background in tech, it'll take some time."

"It's illegal how you got the information, isn't it?" I pressed, narrowing my eyes at him.

He gave me a look—a mix of amusement and exasperation. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

I nodded, biting back a smile. It wasn't like I expected anything different from Paul.

"I have a plan, though," he went on, his expression serious now. "From what I can tell, Scott's not aggressive. Your case should be easier to handle than Raymond's was."

I frowned. "What do you mean, 'case'? Are you talking about court?"

"Possibly," Paul admitted his voice even. "But I don't think it'll come to that. A restraining order should be enough. Still, if it does go to trial, it's better if you don't know all the details about how I got the information."

The mention of a trial made my stomach flip. "A trial?" I repeated, my voice sharper than I intended.

Paul nodded. "It's a possibility, Samantha. You need to be prepared for that."

Before I could push him for more, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and answered with a harsh tone, "What?" I watched him closely as he listened. His face hardened, his free hand tightening into a fist on his knee. "I'll be right there," he said and hung up.

"Sorry, Samantha," he said, standing abruptly. "I have to go."

I followed him to the door. "Is it about Scott?" I asked, tugging on the hem of my shirt.

"No," he replied, slipping on his shoes. Then he paused, one hand on the doorknob. "One more thing—avoid your balcony."

My brows shot up. "Why?"

"It's the only part of your apartment visible from Scott's, even with a telescope." He opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "Have a good day, Miss Morris," he added with a faint smirk before disappearing down the hall.

I closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a long breath. Paul said Scott wasn't aggressive, but I knew better. Back in freshman year, Scott had gotten into at least two physical fights. Maybe I should've mentioned that to Paul, but the bombshell about a possible trial had thrown me off. For now, though, I decided to push the thoughts aside—I had to get ready for the game night.

The weather was too good to ignore, so Ray and I decided to walk to Molly and Mason's place. We met a few blocks from my apartment to avoid any chance of Scott seeing us leave together. It was only a thirty-minute walk to Francis Avenue, where Molly and Mason lived, and Ray had left his car at a café parking lot nearby to avoid the hassle of finding a spot on their crowded street.