Episode 7:Tangled Ties and Tangled lies

The morning air carried a crisp edge as Anne and Deon walked through the farmer's market, a weekly ritual Anne had revived now that sleep—and a semblance of normalcy—had returned to her life. Stalls lined the street, brimming with autumn bounty: baskets of apples, jars of honey, loaves of crusty bread. Deon carried a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, already stuffed with their finds—a wedge of sharp cheddar, a bundle of kale, a small pumpkin he'd insisted on for no reason other than it made him grin."Look at this guy," he said, hefting the pumpkin as they strolled past a flower stand. "He's got personality. We should name him."Anne rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. "You're ridiculous.""Call it charm," he shot back, his sky-blue eyes glinting with mischief.She was getting used to this—his easy humor, his presence weaving into her days like a thread she hadn't meant to pull. The amusement park had shifted something between them, a lightness that lingered even now, days later. She still didn't fully understand what he was, but she'd stopped fighting it. He was here, and that was enough—for now.They turned a corner, heading toward a stall with fresh cider, when a voice cut through the market's hum—a voice Anne hadn't heard in years, smooth and confident, tinged with a drawl she'd once found charming."Anne Baker? Is that you?"She froze, her stomach lurching as she turned. There he was, leaning against a stall piled with pumpkins: Justin Travers, her college ex. He looked sharper than she remembered—his dark hair neatly styled, his jawline stubbled just enough to look deliberate, his tailored coat screaming money. He smiled, that same crooked grin that had once made her heart flutter, and stepped closer."Justin," she said, her voice flatter than she intended. "Hey."Deon shifted beside her, his grin fading as he sized Justin up. Anne felt the air tighten, a subtle shift she couldn't ignore."It's been forever," Justin said, closing the distance with a casual stride. "You look… good. Better than good.""Thanks," she replied, keeping her tone neutral. "You too."He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, well, time's been kind. What are you up to these days?""Still editing," she said, gesturing vaguely. "Same old.""And who's this?" Justin's gaze slid to Deon, his smile tightening just enough to hint at curiosity—or challenge.Deon stepped forward, offering a hand. "Deon. Friend of Anne's."Justin shook it, his grip lingering a beat too long. "Friend, huh? Nice to meet you, Deon. I'm Justin Travers—used to know Anne back in the day. College sweethearts, you could say."Anne's jaw clenched. "That's a stretch."Justin laughed, a polished sound that grated on her now. "Come on, don't undersell it. We had some good times."Deon's eyes narrowed slightly, but he kept his tone light. "Sure. Past's the past, though, right?""Right," Justin agreed, though his gaze lingered on Anne. "So, what brings you two out here?""Just picking up some stuff," Anne said, lifting her bag as evidence. "You?""Scouting, actually." Justin pulled a business card from his coat and handed it to her. "I'm in real estate development now—Travers Properties. We're eyeing this area for a new project. Mixed-use, upscale. Could do wonders for this sleepy little stretch."Anne glanced at the card—glossy, embossed, the kind of thing that screamed success. "Sounds big.""It is." He flashed that grin again. "Hey, why don't we grab a coffee? Catch up properly. Bring your… friend, if you want."Deon's posture stiffened, but Anne caught his eye and shook her head slightly. "Maybe another time," she said. "We've got plans.""Sure, sure," Justin said, unfazed. "I'll be around. Give me a call, Anne. I'd love to hear what you've been up to."She nodded curtly, and he sauntered off, blending into the crowd with the ease of someone who owned every room he walked into. Anne exhaled, her shoulders slumping."Old flame?" Deon asked, his voice low."Old mistake," she corrected, shoving the card into her bag. "We dated sophomore year. He was charming until he wasn't—cheated on me with half the dorm, then acted like it was my fault for being 'too serious.' Haven't seen him since graduation."Deon's jaw tightened. "Sounds like a real prince.""Yeah." She forced a smile. ��Let's forget him. Cider?"He nodded, but she could feel his unease trailing them like a shadow as they moved on.Two days later, Anne's phone buzzed while she was proofreading a manuscript, Deon sprawled on the couch with his notebook. She glanced at the screen: an unknown number. Against her better judgment, she answered."Anne, it's Justin," came the familiar drawl. "Hope I'm not interrupting."She hesitated. "No, just working. What's up?""Thought I'd follow up on that coffee. I'm in your neighborhood—new project site's nearby. How about now?"She glanced at Deon, who looked up from his writing, his brow furrowing. "I'm kind of busy," she said."Come on, fifteen minutes," Justin pressed, his tone smooth as silk. "For old times' sake. I've got a spot in mind—cute little café on Elm. My treat."Something in his voice—warm, coaxing—tugged at a nostalgic thread she didn't want to admit still existed. "Fine," she said finally. "Fifteen minutes."She hung up, meeting Deon's gaze. "Justin wants to catch up. Coffee, quick."Deon sat up, his expression darkening. "You sure about that? Guy gives me a bad vibe.""He's harmless," she said, though doubt flickered in her chest. "Just an ex trying to flex his success. I'll be back in an hour."Deon didn't argue, but his silence was heavy as she grabbed her coat and left.The café on Elm was quaint, its windows framed with ivy, its tables spilling onto the sidewalk. Justin waited outside, leaning against a sleek black car that screamed money. He waved her over with that easy grin."Glad you made it," he said, holding the door as they stepped inside. "You're looking better every time I see you."She shrugged, settling into a chair by the window. "Thanks, I guess."They ordered—black coffee for her, something frothy and overpriced for him—and he launched into small talk, his charm dialed up to eleven. He asked about her job, her life, listening with an intensity that felt rehearsed but flattering nonetheless. Then he shifted gears."So, this project I'm working on," he said, leaning closer, "it's a game-changer. Condos, retail, green space—gonna turn that market strip into something big. I could use someone like you on it."Anne frowned. "Me? I'm an editor, not a developer.""You've got an eye for detail," he said smoothly. "I remember how you'd pick apart my papers—saved my GPA more than once. I need a consultant, someone to polish the pitch, make it sing. Freelance gig, good pay. What do you say?"She hesitated, caught off guard. "I don't know, Justin. I'm swamped already.""Think about it," he urged, his hand brushing hers on the table—a touch too casual, too familiar. "We'd work together again. Like old times, but better."Her skin prickled, a warning bell ringing in her head. "I'll think about it," she said, pulling her hand back.He smiled, undeterred. "Good. You've got my number."They parted with a vague promise to keep in touch, but as Anne walked home, unease gnawed at her. His charm felt like a mask, too polished to trust.Back at the apartment, Deon was waiting, his notebook abandoned on the couch. "How'd it go?" he asked, his tone edged with something sharp."Fine," she said, dropping her bag. "He's pushy, but he offered me a job—consulting for his project."Deon's eyes narrowed. "You buying his nice-guy act?""He's not that bad," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "Just ambitious."Deon stood, crossing his arms. "I don't trust him, Anne. He's got an angle—saw it the second he sized me up at the market."She bristled. "You barely know him.""And you do?" he shot back. "You said he screwed you over. People like that don't change—they just get slicker."She opened her mouth to argue, but the buzz of her phone cut her off. Another text from Justin: Forgot to mention—project's got a tight timeline. Could really use you ASAP. Dinner tomorrow to talk details?She stared at it, doubt creeping in. Deon peered over her shoulder, his jaw tightening."See?" he said. "He's reeling you in."She sighed, torn. "Maybe it's just business.""Maybe," Deon said, unconvinced. "But I'm coming with you if you go."Against her better judgment, Anne agreed to the dinner, curiosity—and a flicker of old trust—winning out. Deon insisted on tagging along, and she didn't fight him. They met Justin at a sleek restaurant downtown, all glass and low lighting, the kind of place that made Anne feel underdressed in her sweater and jeans.Justin greeted her with a warm hug she didn't return, his gaze flicking to Deon with a faint smirk. "Didn't expect the entourage," he said, leading them to a table."Deon's my sounding board," Anne replied coolly. "He's staying."Dinner started smoothly enough—small talk over appetizers, Justin spinning tales of his rise in the real estate world. But as the main course arrived, he leaned in, his tone shifting."So, this consulting gig," he said, swirling his wine. "I'd need you full-time for a few weeks—on-site, hands-on. Could be a big break for you, Anne. Get you out of that little editing rut."Anne frowned. "I like my job.""Sure, but this is next-level," he pressed. "And honestly, you'd be doing me a favor. I've missed having you around—your smarts, your spark. We were good together."Deon's fork clattered against his plate, drawing Justin's eye. "Something wrong, buddy?""Yeah," Deon said, his voice low and steady. "You're full of it. This isn't about a job—it's about you wanting her back."Justin laughed, a sharp, dismissive sound. "Jealous much? Relax, man. It's business.""Bullshit," Deon snapped, leaning forward. "You're playing her, same as you did back then. I don't know you, but I know guys like you—smiling while you twist the knife."Anne's stomach dropped, the pieces clicking into place—Justin's charm, his insistence, the way he'd brushed her hand at the café. She turned to him, her voice cold. "Is that true? Is this a job or a game?"Justin's grin faltered, but he recovered fast. "Come on, Anne, don't listen to him. I'm offering you something real.""Then why's it feel so fake?" she said, standing. "You haven't changed. You're still the same liar who broke my trust.""Anne—" he started, but Deon was already up, stepping between them."Back off," Deon said, his tone hard. "She's done with you."Justin's eyes flashed with anger, but he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine. Your loss, Anne. Good luck with your guard dog."Anne didn't respond. She grabbed her coat and walked out, Deon close behind, the night air hitting her like a slap. They didn't speak until they were blocks away, her breath puffing in the cold."You okay?" Deon asked finally, his voice softer now."Yeah," she said, stopping to face him. "Thanks for that. You were right—he hasn't changed."Deon nodded, his expression softening. "I just didn't want him hurting you again."She studied him—his tense shoulders, his fierce protectiveness—and felt a rush of gratitude. "You didn't have to do that, but I'm glad you did."He shrugged, a faint smile breaking through. "Told you I'm here for you."They walked home in silence, the city humming around them. Inside, Anne locked the door and sank onto the couch, Justin's card crumpled in her fist. She tossed it into the trash, a final severing of that old tie.Deon sat beside her, close but not crowding. "You sure you're good?""Yeah," she said, meeting his eyes. "I am now."And she meant it. Justin's lies had shaken her, but Deon's steady presence anchored her. He wasn't just a shadow of her past—he was her shield, her ally, and maybe something more. As the tension faded, she leaned into him, just a little, and he didn't pull away.Anne Baker had wanted sleep. She'd gotten it—and with it, someone who'd fight for her, no questions asked.