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She laughs before falling silent. “Thank you,” she says quietly.
“For calling you a homeless person?”
“No. For making me get my head out of my ass. For making me laugh. I’m sorry I was such a bitch.”
“Hallie, you weren’t a bitch. I get how hard this is for you. I don’t want that asshole to win. You deserve better than that.”
Smiling, she stands. “I’ll go get ready.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I watch as she heads to her room, noticing she’s left her phone on the sofa. Grateful she hasn’t got it with her, I pick it up and drop it on the small table in the entryway. I’m hoping she’ll forget it when we go out, but I know it’s unlikely. I want to keep her in our bubble, safe and unaware of the horror happening outside.
I’m heading back to the sofa when a knock sounds on the door. Frowning, I cross the room. We’re not expecting anyone, and there was no intercom call, so it must be someone from inside the building. Using the peephole, I sigh in relief when it’s Nick standing in the hallway.
“Hey, Nick,” I say as I swing the apartment door open.
“Hey, Sawyer. Sorry to bother you. Kitty’s sick. Does Hallie have any Tylenol?”
“I’m sure she does. Come in.” Standing to the side, I hold the door open as Nick enters the apartment. “I’ll check the bathroom. I don’t think Hallie’s in there yet.” Leaving him in the entryway, I head down the short hallway to the bathroom. Not hearing the shower, I knock lightly on the door. When I’m met with silence, I go on in. The bathroom is empty, and I open the vanity above the sink. I find the Tylenol and make my way back to Nick, who’s still waiting in the entryway.
“Here you go. I hope Kitty’s feeling better soon.”
“Thanks, man. I’m sure she will once she’s had these.” He holds up the Tylenol. “Catch you soon.”
Thirty minutes later, Hallie’s ready. We’ve snuck out the service entrance at the back of the building. There are no reporters back here, and Hallie’s dad has hidden my car out of sight behind a dumpster. I can see she’s nervous as she slides into the passenger seat, her eyes darting all around as she scans the area. I smile reassuringly at her as I close the door and jog around to the driver’s side. Pulling away from the apartment block, we leave the reporters and the stress of the last week behind us. Hallie visibly relaxes the farther we get away from Savannah, her whole body almost sagging with relief.
Traffic to Tybee Island is light, and we drive in comfortable silence. Hallie has fallen asleep, and I go over and over in my head how I’m going to tell her what Logan told me. I want her to find out from me and notCNNlike she found out about Amanda. The suggestion of a bike ride was partially a selfish one as it buys me more time. She can’t have her phone in her hand when she’s on the bike. There’s no danger of her reading about the abduction as a bulletin on her phone, and she, of course, grabbed it before we left.
As I pull into the parking garage of my apartment, Hallie is fast asleep. Maybe a bike ride isn’t a great idea if she’s this tired. Parking the car, I climb out and go around to the passenger side. I open the door, kneel, and gently shake her shoulder.
“Hallie, we’re here,” I say quietly. I wait a few seconds, but she doesn’t stir. “Hallie,” I try again, this time a little louder. Still no response. Knowing she can’t be comfortable in the car, I reach over her and release the seat belt. Scooping her up, I lift her out of the car and hold her close to my chest. Her head drops on my shoulder, and I wonder if moving her might wake her up. Glancing down at her face, she’s still asleep. Having her in my arms makes me think back to holding her while we danced the other night.
Like then, it feels good.
Too good.
I sigh, knowing I must get this attraction to her under control. Getting too close is dangerous. It’s always harder to protect someone you care about. I kick the car door closed and make for the elevator, hitting the button for my floor when I get there.
Managing to open my apartment door with her still in my arms, I’m pleased to see Josie, my house cleaner has been, and the apartment looks a lot better than the last time I was here. I walk through the apartment with Hallie in my arms and stop by the sofa, gently placing her on it. She still hasn’t stirred, and I make my way into my spare bedroom, grabbing a blanket from the bed. Coming back to the sofa, I sit beside Hallie and cover her with the blanket. A piece of her long dark hair is over her face, and I brush it off her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. Her skin is soft, and I gently stroke her face with the back of my hand. She’s beautiful, and I wish this weren’t happening to her.
No one deserves this.
The problem is my gut tells me this may only be the beginning.
I’m sitting on the balcony while Hallie sleeps. I can’t bring myself to wake her knowing how little sleep she’s had this week. Logan has messaged to ask how she took the news. I told him I hadn’t managed to speak to her yet. It turns out the area where the girl was taken from isn’t covered by CCTV. Right now, the police have nothing to go on. Logan also tells me the story is scheduled to hit the midday news bulletins, which gives me under two hours to talk to Hallie.
Soft whimpering sounds break into my thoughts, and I stand, making my way into the living room. Hallie is still asleep but agitated. Her hands grip the blanket that’s covering her, and a single tear falls from her eye.
“Hallie,” I whisper, sitting next to her on the sofa. “Hallie, you’re safe.” I uncurl her fingers from the death grip she has on the blanket, holding her hand in mine. My thumb slowly traces circles on the back of her hand as I attempt to comfort her. The whimpering increases, and she grips my hand tightly.
“No!” she cries. “No!” Her eyes are still closed, and her head thrashes from side to side.
“Hallie,wake up,” I say loudly, my free hand gently squeezing her shoulder. Her eyes fly open, and I can see the terror in them as she looks around, unsure of where she is. “Hey, it was a bad dream. You’re safe,” I reassure her.
Her eyes find mine, and she sits up, throwing herself against me. My arms instinctively wrap around her, and she clings to me, her whole body shaking as she sobs against my chest. I reach up and stroke her hair. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” I soothe, holding her close. I hold her for a few minutes until her sobs subside.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her head still buried in my chest. I try to pull back so I can see her face, but she stops me. “Don’t. I’m embarrassed.”
