Page 47 of The Image of You

Remembering one of my favorite photos I had taken last year, an idea struck, and for the next while, I worked, layering and highlighting until it was exactly the way I envisioned it in my head. When it was done, it was the perfect symmetry of the two. A photo of sunset over the ocean, the waves rushing to the shore, with the washed-out, barely seen image of Ally drifting through the sky, the bright waves of her hair dipping into the ocean, diffused stars scattered around her. The layered effect of the clouds had captured my eye the night I had taken the picture, and now they were like the blankets that covered her. With a few more touches, I brought out the freckles in the shimmering light my lens had captured.

I called it Sleeping Angel.

It would bring a high price—I’d make sure of it.

I stopped working only once, when Ally called. Her voice was drained; although she assured me she was fine. Brunch, she told me, had gone exactly as she thought it would. They were disappointed in her selfish actions and made sure she knew their feelings. But I was proud she hadn’t given in to their displeasure.

I wanted to go and get her, but she refused. I stopped arguing, deciding she’d probably been doing nothing but arguing for the past few hours, and I told her I would call her tomorrow.

However, I was there when she left for work, waiting outside her building, needing to reassure myself she was all right. The way she flung herself into my embrace let me know my decision was a good one. She held a small bag, and as we were driving, I asked her what it was for.

“The people above me started renovations today. I barely got any sleep, so I’m going to crash in the on-call room tomorrow. At least I’ll get a few hours of sleep in.”

My brow furrowed. “How long will this go on for?”

“They said a week to ten days.”

“You can’t get by on a few hours that long.”

“Well, I don’t want to go to my parents’. I’ll crash on Elena’s couch when she gets back.”

I pulled up in front of the hospital. “I have a better idea. Stay with me. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

“Then I’ll interrupt your day.”

“No. I have some work to do. The loft is quiet, and you can sleep.”

“I’d like that, but are you sure?”

I wrapped my hand around hers, kissing the knuckles. “I want to make sure you’re okay. Please let me do this.”

“I’m not used to anyone looking after me.”

“I want you to get used to me doing it.” I studied her. “Does this bother you?”

“Bother me?”

I placed my hand on her neck, stroking her skin. “This need I have—to take care of you. It’s so important to me. I’m worried I may overwhelm you.”

“Does it overwhelm you?” she asked.

I stared at the dashboard, thinking. “At times. I’m not used to thinking about someone else. I’m afraid I’m going to scare you away.”

“Adam…” she began, waiting until I met her gaze. “Aside from Ollie or Elena, no one has cared for me. Once my dad died, I was alone. It doesn’t scare me. I understand it, because I feel the same way about you. I want to be with you when you’re here.” Her voice caught. “I know when you leave again, I’m going to miss you even more.”

There was nothing else to be said. I kissed her and watched her walk into the hospital, her words ringing in my head.

Had anyone missed me before she came into my life?

I was certain the answer was no.

The next morning, I picked her up, taking her to my place, parking underground. Her eyes grew large as she stared at the gleaming black motorcycle parked beside my deep blue Audi RS 7.

“Is that yours?”

“Yep.” I ran my hand over the shiny metal. “You like to ride, Ally?”

“I’ve never been on one.” She eyed the bike with trepidation. “What kind is it? It looks powerful.”