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Despite Natasha’s insistence I do this, I don’t believe the ledger is here. It’s most likely at his office in Hamiltown or at Hugh van Hamilton’s estate. When she suggested this plan, I already knew I’d have to find some way to get there and search those key places without being caught.
Still, I’ll do my diligence. I’ll search this residence the way I’ve been trained to do, and if it is here, I’ll find it.
His bed is a queen size, which doesn’t surprise me. This house is one step above student apartments. Still it’s neat, with a simple, off-white duvet and a collection of matching pillows. Sitting on the bedside, I pull one onto my lap and hug it to my chest, burying my face in the cover and inhaling deeply.
Is this the one he sleeps on? I pick up another, sniffing, then another, searching for that distinct fragrance that makes it feel like he’s here with me. I wonder if his scent is really enticing or if I’m obsessed with him or is he legitimately obsess-inspiring? (Is that a thing?) Chasing these thoughts in circles makes me smile like a teenager with a crush.
What I’m doing is dangerous. I’m hugging his pillow like I’m falling for him, like he’s not a mark. I’m ready to shake myself and continue looking for that book when my eyes fall on a battered paperback sitting on the nightstand.
I pick it up, and an old photograph falls to the carpet. Leaning down, I hold it under the light, and a smile curls my lips. It’s a picture of an adorable blond boy standing beside a taller teenage boy with dark hair and a lowered brow. The younger boy is holding up a large paperback, and the older has his hands behind his back like he’s a soldier at attention.
It’s clearly Dirk and Hutch, and it looks like they’re in a bookstore or a library. I wonder who took this… One of their parents? A teacher? Hutch’s expression is focused, disciplined as always, but I see that flicker of mischief in Dirk’s grin. My lip catches between my teeth, and I trace my finger over his image. He’s perfect. I’d have had a crush on him even then.
Turning the battered paperback in my hand, it’s an old-school copy ofThe Goblet of Firewith the original, cartoonish picture of Harry holding a shiny bowl and waving his wand on the front. It’s the same book in the photograph. He must be using this as a bookmark, but I’ve lost his place. Slipping the photo into a random spot, I hope he won’t notice it moved.
Lying on my side in his bed, I open the cover and read the first line,The villagers of Little Hangleton called it “the Riddle house…”
Dirk Winston is strong and dominant. He won’t let me get away with shit, and yet he has this soft side, this connection to nostalgia. I want to know why. I want to know what draws him to this story.
Pulling a blanket over my shoulder, I roll onto my back and continue reading, wanting to know what secrets about him are hidden in the words of this book…
“I’ll protect you, Rainey.”He reaches out, cupping my face in his hand. “You don’t have to fight alone anymore. I’m here, and I’ve got people to help us.”
Straining for his touch, the cold bands surrounding my heart are slow to break. It’s hard to believe someone might care for me, might really want to help me.
“I dreamed you would say this.” My voice is strained, wistful. “I never thought it could happen…”
His words are lost in the fading mist. Pale light glows in the windows, awakening me with a start. Dirk is gone, and I'm alone, but his voice still feels so close. I sit up fast, looking around the empty room, my heart beating out of my chest. No one is here to help me. I fell asleep reading, and dawn is breaking.
Hopping up, I do my best to shake the dream away. I place the book on the nightstand and quickly straighten the bed and the pillows. I’ve got to get out of here before I’m trapped in his empty house, and I didn’t even finish searching it. I quickly circle the room, methodically searching drawers, feeling behind books in the bookcase. Nothing.
Returning to the living room, I scan the space quickly, looking for any type of hiding place or study area. It’s pretty sparsely decorated, and he doesn’t have many personal items here. It makes sense with him being a new professor in temporary housing.
The daylight is growing brighter, and I’m out of time. Dashing to the bedroom, I quickly strip off his sweater and put my hoodie back on. I straighten the stack of clothes, making sure everything looks as it did when I arrived.
Grabbing the key off the kitchen table, I head out the door, quickly dropping it under the mat again. Then I sneak to the edge of the house, my back to the brick wall, and peek around the corner. No one appears to be awake yet, so I hop over the fence and dash right up to the sidewalk, walking confidently to my dorm.
The more steps I take, the less suspicious my presence becomes. I’m an early-morning jogger or a student up early, going for coffee. I feel so refreshed I could go for a jog, and I realize I did it again. I slept like a baby, wrapped in Dirk’s blankets, wearing his clothes, dreaming of him. No vodka to kill the nightmares, because there were none, only his voice offering to help me.
I don’t have time to think about what it means. I need to get back to the dorm before Ali does. She won’t believe I’m out of bed this early, and I don’t have an alibi.
11
Dirk
Big brown eyesgaze into mine, and I scrub my fingers under the curtain of white hair hanging down her neck.
“I think Dancer misses you when you’re gone.” Hana walks up to where I’m standing at the stall, a Palomino horse’s face in my arms. “Blake rides her, but she never hangs over the door like this for us.”
“It’s because I rode her when she was a yearling. Hugh asked me to take her out for him when I was home from college for the summer.” Sliding my hand down her nose, I remember those days.
My father was pressuring me to join his investment firm, but I didn’t like the vibe of Wall Street. I didn’t like their greedy world of hard parties, cocaine, and high-end hookers.
My college girlfriend was pressuring me to settle down. She wanted to get married, live in the suburbs, have babies, but I didn’t share those feelings. She would tell me her plans, and the back of my neck would grow tight. I felt the distinct urge to run.
I wanted to be free, and that summer, riding all over the county on this golden horse, I did what I wanted. I slept under the stars, I cooked over a fire, and I had no commitments or rules, for a few weeks at least.
“That’s the reason.” My little sister-in-law tilts her blonde head. “You were her first love.”
