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Under Water

Page 71

by E.M. Lindsey

“I get it,” Teddy says, and yeah. He probably does. He had his own heart ripped out too. “Anyway, I’m going to go make a couple calls. You and Elio get some rest, and I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you at work,” I remind him.

He gives me a stern look. “Set one foot in that fucking building tomorrow, and so help me God and Camilo⁠—”

“Fine, fine. Whatever. I’ll take the day.”

He nods, then turns and walks off, leaving me to the rest of my collecting so I can get the hell out of this place. I’m not convinced that Neal isn’t lurking around the corner, hidden in the neighbor’s bushes, watching everything I’m doing. And I’m not convinced that he’s not planning round two in his efforts to make my life a living hell.

“Alright, kids. This is the place.” Easton claps, then does jazz hands before waving them around the room. “It’s small, but it’s home. And there are only two rules.”

Elio looks up at him with wide, curious eyes.

Easton’s expression turns firm. “Put the seat down after you piss because we have manners in this house, and no one likes a soggy ass when they sit down to take a shit⁠—”

“Fuck’s sake,” I hiss.

“And there’s no such thing as bedtime!” he cries.

Elio cheers, but I throw my hand up. “There is a bedtime, which is right now,” I remind him. He looks exhausted, and while his muscle relaxers have worn off, I know he’ll sleep once he’s settled.

But getting him settled is going to be the problem.

Elio huffs. “I’m basically grown⁠—”

“You are twelve,” I say. “You can pull that shit with me when you can grow even a single hair on your chin.”

He makes a face but says nothing and taps the little joystick on the chair. It was an aftermarket addition to his manual chair that we added before we got his fancy ride. At the time, he still had enough strength in his hands to push himself sometimes, and the doctors encouraged him to keep working his muscles.

But it didn’t last.

I’m grateful we have it because I will not be convinced that Neal didn’t put a tracker in my car. I don’t believe that he just happened by the apartment the day I was there. And I don’t believe that he knew I’d be at my parents’ when I was. Not by accident.

So he’s either physically stalking me, or he’s got a way to track where I am. And my car is the only thing he could have tagged.

“We can negotiate bedtime later,” Easton says. “I think we all need some sleep right now.”

Elio opens his mouth, and it’s clear he wants to argue, but all that comes out is a massive yawn. “Uhg,” he says heavily. “Fine, whatever.”

“Let me show you to your presidential suite,” Easton says, making a sweeping gesture forward.

Elio goes ahead of him, but I yank him back. “You’re sweet, but you don’t have to⁠—”

“Rune,” he interrupts.

I close my mouth and stare at him.

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I’m sure the fire scared the shit out of your son, and he seems pretty sure your ex is behind it too.”

I bow my head. “He wasn’t supposed to hear that.”

“I know. But he did. So I’m going to be weird and goofy if it makes him smile, okay?”

My chest unclenches a bit. “Thank you for all of this.”

He nods, then walks past me and opens up the door leading to a fairly tidy space, which looks like it serves as half office and half bedroom. The bed is high enough off the ground that it won’t kill my back getting Elio in and out, and there’s enough space on the dresser for all of his equipment.

“Alright,” Easton says when he sees the bag on my shoulder, “I’m going to let you two settle in. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”