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Deep in my soul, all I wanted was to be wrapped in Dane’s arms, engulfed in his heat and essence. I wanted all the beautiful and sensual sensations he evoked to chase away the terror and the shattered feelings.
Burrowing under the throw, I tried to clear my mind and calm my churning insides. I was highly alert to all the sounds around me, fearful even though I believed the threat had faded for now, with Vale in a hospital and Amano practically at my doorstep.
It wasn’t so much the shadows and the unknown that taunted me. I was devastated, missing Dane already and needing him so much. Especially now, after everything I’d been through.
But I refused to turn on my phone. I couldn’t renege on my convictions.
We were done. Through. End of the tragic love story.
That’s when the really awful, body-wracking sobs came.
And didn’t subside …
* * *
I didn’t check the next day to see if Amano kept his watch on me. Or the next.
I didn’t have to, because he rapped on my door a couple of times to let me know he had Dane’s physician with him. No doubt someone from the private facility where Vale recovered. Someone who stuck to patient confidentiality and didn’t call the police over this sort of thing.
For a price.
Both times, I went to the door and told them to go away.
For the most part, I remained curled on the sofa, huddled under the blanket. Sometimes crying. Sometimes staring at the drapes covering the patio doors. Occasionally, my mind wandered and I imagined someone jimmying the lock, throwing one of the doors open, and shooting me.
Trying to convince myself I was being melodramatic was futile. An hour or so would pass and I’d stare at the curtains again, pondering what might lie in wait for me beyond them.
Was it really such an easy conclusion to this entire clusterfuck of a situation that Vale had lost the game and that was that? Had Dane really won the war … or just one horrifying battle?
I didn’t want to think about him, but that was near impossible. I couldn’t get him off my mind and wanted desperately for him to be here with me, holding me. That’s when the tears came again.
My combat tactic was to head to the bathroom or rummage through the fridge. But food didn’t appeal to me. I forced myself to drink some water at first but eventually couldn’t see the point in it.
I’d never understood hopelessness before. When my father had been wrecked by my mother, I’d poked and prodded him.
Hey, Dad, let’s golf.
Hey, Dad, we need groceries.
Hey, Dad, watch a movie with me.
He’d gone through the motions to appease his daughter. I didn’t bother. I had no one to appease.
Or so I thought.…
The pounding on my door on day three roused me from the sleep I drifted in and out of when I cried so hard, it exhausted me.
At first, I thought the horrendous hammering was thunder.
Then I heard the very distinct, “Ari, open up! It’s Kyle.”
I started. Holy shit, I hadn’t thought about Kyle. He had to wonder where I’d been the past couple of days, when I hadn’t shown up for work.
Crawling out of my cave, I didn’t think about the way I looked. That was a big mistake. I moved the chair away and opened the door. The first words tumbling from his lips were, “Jesus Christ!”
I winced. “Sorry.” My throat was raw and I went to the sink for a glass of water.
“What. The. Hell?” he demanded as he entered the townhome and slammed the door shut behind him.
