On the other side of the phone, Arthur sucked in a breath.
“There was a woman—” Rory tried to explain “—and a man drew a knife—” He made another choked sob. “I can’t go to the police, they’ll think I’m mad, I’ll be locked up again—”
“No,” Arthur said immediately. “No, you won’t be, I won’t let that happen—”
Rory screwed his eyes shut and let Arthur’s reassurances wash over him. He didn’t hear the words themselves, just the deep voice that drove away the monsters in his mind and the promises that calmed his racing heart.
“—so they’d have to get through me first, and I am an excellent fortress,” Arthur was saying. “Where are you?”
Rory ran a hand over his face, letting out a shaky breath. He could answer that. He knew exactly where he was, and when he was, and who he was talking to. “My boarding house.”
“Good. Stay there.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m coming.”
Rory’s eyes flew open.God yes, please come, please, I’m so tired of being alone—
“No,” he said quickly. “No, I shouldn’t have bothered you—I don’t even know what time it is—”
“Four thirty.”Four thirty? “But I don’t care about that, Rory, I—”
“Sorry I woke you,” Rory blurted. “Don’t come, go back to bed, it’s fine, everything’s fine.”
“You shouldn’t be alone—”
“I’ll see you around.” Rory shoved the phone up into its cradle on the table. He put his head between his knees, suddenly aware he was in thin pajamas on the cold floor, that his fingers stung and his skin was like ice. Suddenly feeling so alone.
The shrill ring of the phone split the air. He grabbed the receiver and dropped it straight back down on the cradle.
A moment later, it rang again, and again Rory lifted it and hung it right back up.
He waited, tensed.
But all was silent.
Chapter Fifteen
Rory rinsed off his bloody hands in the communal bathroom before returning to his room for clothes and his coat. He was out the door just minutes later. It was black as night outside, the late winter sun at least two hours from rising yet, and the streets were creepily still. He walked along the icy sidewalks with his head down, hands jammed deep in his pockets, fingers smarting in his clenched fists. It was cold enough to freeze bone, but humiliation was keeping Rory hot.
Had he really just woken Arthur Kenzie in the middle of the night for abad dream?
It was six short blocks to Brodigan’sand his face stung from cold and burned from shame by the time he unlocked the front door and slipped inside. His footsteps echoed on the floor of the empty shop, nearly as cold as outside. It would have been nice to hear familiar voices, or see a friendly face, but they wouldn’t open until eight.
At least there was more to distract him here than in his claustrophobic room, and Mrs. Brodigan kept a first-aid kit in the desk. He tossed his coat on the armchair and took the metal kit to the counter with the cash register.
He’d just pulled the chain on the small light when the front door’s bell jangled loudly. He looked up in alarm.
It was nothing like the first night he’d seen Arthur.
Oh, the frantic expression was the same, but that first night, Arthur had been impeccably styled right down to the fine coat and hat. Now, Arthur’s fine coat was thrown over flannel pajamas, his uncovered hair was tousled from sleep, and black stubble roughened his cheeks and jaw. He was at least ten times more handsome, and time might have momentarily stopped, or maybe that was just Rory’s heart.
“What part ofI’m comingis difficult to understand?” Arthur’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes bright like the summer sky as he crossed the shop and gripped Rory’s shoulders. “I told you to stay where you were—do I need to speak Italian to make you listen? Iwilllearn.”
His hands were strong, not painful, on Rory’s shoulders, and warm even through Rory’s shirt. “How did you find me?” Rory managed to ask.
“Where else do you have to go but here?”
