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A life I escaped.
My cell vibrates against my nightstand causing it to slap against the wood and I jump before I can stop myself. My heart seems to freeze in my throat. I look at the number and it doesn’t look familiar. I start not to answer, but I’m still alive because I face things head on. I can’t stick my head in the sand—not about my past. I have to stay alert.
“Hello?”
“Can’t sleep?”
Noah’s deep voice comes across the line and I feel hot and flushed for another reason.
“I could probably sleep if someone wasn’t calling at midnight,” I grumble, flipping on the bedside lamp because the shadows in the room hide monsters—I’ve learned that the hard way.
“Liar. I heard you moving around.”
“How did you get my number, anyway? And what do you mean you heard me?”
“In my line of work, it’s pretty easy to track down cell numbers, Cupcake. In answer to your second question, the walls between our rooms are paper thin, haven’t you noticed?” he asks.
“What kind of work do you do?” I ask, wondering if he’s a cop or something. He doesn’t seem like it and he’s always home. I just figured he worked from home. He’s grouchy so it made sense he’d be one of those annoying bill collectors—though as hot as he looks it didn’t exactly fit with my imagination.
“You don’t want to know that,” he says.
“I think I do,” I retort and his silence is his answer. Maybe he’s an undercover Fed or something. “Whatever,” I huff when it becomes clear he’s not going to answer. “You’re lying about hearing me, though. I never hear you when I’m in here. If the walls were really that thin, I would have before now,” I grumble, praying I’m right.
“Don’t do much in here except sleep, Cupcake. Not much to hear. What was your nightmare about?”
“Oh God, you really can hear me,” I whisper, immediately feeling shame move over me, because I know what he probably heard.
“Every delicious drop.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, holding my mouth away from the phone.
“I know what’s going through your mind, Rory.”
“I doubt that.”
“I do and we’ll discuss it later. For now, tell me about your nightmare.”
“Why would I tell you about my nightmare?”
“Because I’m here to listen,” he says easily.
I stare up at the ceiling and I try to process everything, but I’m too tired and way too emotionally spent.
“I’m going to go,” I finally tell him. I’m too on edge to keep my head in a conversation with my irritating neighbor.
“Talk to me, Gorgeous. It’s the only way to get rid of old demons.”
“How do you know it’s about old demons?” I ask him, not really bothering to deny it.
“Because I have them too. We all do in some form or another.”
“Does talking about them help get rid of yours?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“I have way too many for it to work,” he tells me, his voice void of any emotion.
“Maybe I do too,” I whisper into the phone, my hand tightening on it in reflex.
“Never know until you try.”
“You realize the fact that we don’t like each other makes it hard to talk to you.”
“I think you really like me and I feel the same so—”
“I don’t—”
“Remember I hear you in your bedroom, Rory.”
“I don’t—”
“I hear everything.”
“I hate you,” I mutter and my breath stalls when I hear Noah laugh.
It’s quiet, but it’s full and with his voice low like it has been… it’s sexy. It causes me to feel flushed and I find myself smiling. Considering where my thoughts have been since I woke up, that’s a miracle.
“Tell me about Tony.”
“Who?” I ask and I wince as I hear the panic in my voice. That warm feeling I had at hearing Noah’s laughter is completely gone now. In its place, is this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I look around the room waiting for him to jump out from the dark.
“You were screaming his name and not in the ways that I plan on making you scream. So, tell me, Rory. Who is Tony?”
I sigh. I don’t know why I do, but I decide to tell him. Maybe he’s right and it will help.
“Tony is an asshole.”
“Did you call him F.A. too?” Diesel murmurs and if I wasn’t lost in my past I know I’d smile.
That’s impossible right now, however.
“No, he was a different kind of an asshole.”
“I’m listening,” he says. I stop for a second. I guess I thought he’d say something to piss me off, but he’s listening and he seems to understand this is hard for me. I don’t know why that should make me feel better—but it does.
“He wasn’t cocky. Tony was something else. He was cold. Things were his way and if they weren’t he’d make them his way.”
