I want to say,because you’re playing me for a fool.Instead, I settle on, “You were caught up in a moment. It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean it.”
His fingers flex on my hip, notifying my body of his touch even more readily than the hardness it’s struggling to ignore. It’s now acting as traitorous as my heart.
“Ididmean it.”
I shake my head violently.Now I feel as drunk as Alex is.
“I did, Rae. I meant every fucking word. How can you not believe me? I’ve been acting like a lovesick idiot all week.” The slur of his words doesn’t lessen the impact of them. “I get it’s early. I understand it’s scary. But that doesn’t make it any less real.” Tears burn my eyes when he locks his with mine to declare, “I’ll give up everything I have before I give you up. Okay?” He wipes away my tears with the back of his hand before repeating, “Okay?”
I shouldn’t nod, but I do. You can’t see what I’m seeing. Even through the haze, his massively dilated pupils, and the low hang of his lids, his eyes aren’t the ones of a liar. He’s either telling the truth, or I’m a complete fucking idiot. I really hope it isn’t the latter.
“Okay. Go to sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
I tickle his beard in a soothing manner, hoping the gentleness of my touch will lull him to sleep. This isn’t a conversation I want to have in general, much less with a drunk man.
“Promise me you’ll be here in the morning, Rae.” His words are slower, more relaxed. “I want to wake with your hair fanned across my chest like I have the last four days.”
I run my thumb along his little scar hidden from view before nodding. “I’ll be here.”
“Promise me.”
My chest rises and falls three times before I stammer out, “I promise.”
My pledge gives him the comfort he needs to fall asleep. It also eases my heartache a little. He let me leave without injury that night at Substanz. He didn’t have to. He didn’t know me, so he had no reason to believe me when I said I wasn’t a prostitute, yet he still did. He gave me his faith even though I didn’t deserve it, so shouldn’t I do the same for him?
Perhaps he doesn’t know I’m Rae from Substanz?
Maybe he’ll be as blindsided by our bizarre connection as me when I expose it to him?
I don’t believe in miracles, but I never thought I would be capable of falling in love either.
24
Iwake up a little after 5 AM. That’s not unusual. Before Alex, I pounded the pavement for two hours before the sun even rose. I feel like running now; I’m just not sure if it is to burn off excess energy or confusion. It’s probably a bit of both.
Alex groans when I roll him over so he is lying on his back. He barely budged an inch all night. I guess when you consider the alternative, I was extremely lucky. Last night could have ended a whole lot worse than it did.
While rubbing a kink in my neck, I head into Alex’s tiny kitchen to hunt down some pain medication. Two tablets for me to ease my aching head, and three for Alex’s thumping head he’s yet to become aware of.
I find a bottle of pain medication rather quickly sitting on the top of his fridge. Now all I need is a glass to fill with water. Since Alex’s kitchen is one tenth the size of mine, that doesn’t take long to discover either. It is in the bottom cupboard on my left, just to the right of a stack of open shelves. He has the usual items: old bills, dated magazines, and two frosting canisters.
I shouldn’t pry, but as they say, curiosity killed the cat.
The first tin of frosting has the same fake IDs I found in the pantry at The Manor.
I wish the second was just as innocent.
I’ve never paid much attention to how large frosting cans are. You wouldn’t think by looking at them that they’re capable of hiding a cell phone. Not just any cell phone either, a highly recognizable one, one I last saw when it slipped from my grasp and fell down a grate an hour before I bumped heads with a stranger in an elevator.
Here it comes again. The steamroll of idiocy is smacking into me once more.
While leaning my back on the kitchen counter to take in some deep breaths, my eyes float around Alex’s kitchen. They don’t travel far, only to a sleek-looking laptop hiding beneath a stack of papers.
My heart rate that hasn’t settled since yesterday morning bangs out a new tune when I recall Alex telling me his laptop was at the shop. Although he could have had it returned by now, I don’t know when. Excluding today, he’s rarely left my side. I’m not overly friendly with computers, but Bosco, the only IT shop owner in town, is a sleaze I’ll never forget. Even though I agreed to be his fake date at the annual cook off his family holds in Miami each year, it still meant my laptop was returned a week later. Alex doesn’t have boobs and ass on his side, so he will be required to wait the general six to eight weeks every male resident of Ravenshoe waits.
After a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure I’m still alone, I pull Alex’s laptop out of its hidey hole. No passcode, no lock code, and no fucking chance in hell Alex can pretend he didn’t know me before he knocked me out. There are photos—dozens of them. Most are of me running, but there are the occasional ones of me out of my active gear. I’m either staring into space or wiping away the tears I pretend don’t fall at the same time every night.
My hand rattles when I run my finger over the touch pad to open up his emails. He’s smarter than me. He doesn’t leave an obvious paper trail. Other than a few emails about Danielle, his inbox is empty.
