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Will she understand, though? Char seems to. But is it forgivable? Understanding something doesn’t mean you allow it into your life.
I’ll remain a broken man, but whatever makes her happy is all that matters. I need her to have all the knowledge so she can make an informed decision, and I’ll accept whatever it is. Even if it destroys me in the process.
Chapter Fifteen
April 30th - Kate
I’msowarm.Toowarm. Hot, stifled. But my body doesn’t want to move, and my eyes don’t want to open. I become aware of my breathing, my belly rising and falling with each peaceful sounding inhalation and exhalation.
Man, that was a crazy dream I had. The knife in my skin felt so real. The heat radiating from Lorenzo as we sped away in that car… It's insane how much I crave it. It’s crazy to wish it were true, just so I could be near him again.
A body shifts under me and I startle, my eyes flying open when my head drops onto a firm cushion. I sit up, my head pounding with a headache I didn’t know was there. I search around me, quickly piecing together that I’m in a car.
Lorenzo’s car.
Is that—
“Char?” I croak.
“Shit, I didn’t mean to wake you.”His voice.It sends electricity coursing through me, every nerve-ending on alert.
It was real.
And suddenly, my ears are ringing with the reverberating gunshot. My head throbs as hands gently touch my arm, but I instinctively yank it away. It’s all too overwhelming.
“Let’s get her inside,” Char says. A door opens from the left and Santi steps out of the car.
“This shit is on here tight.”
Hands are on me again, but when I flinch, Lorenzo’s face lowers to mine through the door frame.
“Hey, I’m going to take you in now. I’m not going to hurt you,” he says softly. For some reason, I don’t think he’s going to hurt me, but I still don’t feel safe. Remembering that Char is with him, I nod, letting him pull me out.
“I can walk,” I manage, but my legs feel weak the moment they touch the ground. He scoops me into his arms, carrying me towards a pristine white residence with a spacious front porch and a navy blue door.
Where the hell are we?
He tows me across the threshold and despite how shitty I feel, my breath hitches. Before us is an open layout with a kitchen overlooking the living room. The white walls and white furniture, complemented by cabinets painted in the same serene blue as the front door, exude an atmosphere of charm. The back wall adds to the tranquility with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a bay with gentle waves lapping against the shore.
This has to be the most beautiful home I’ve ever been in.
“I’m taking her to my room,” Lorenzo says.
This place is his?
He breaks left and climbs the spiral staircase I missed before. When we reach the landing, he walks down a hallway, passing two closed doors and entering the final one at the end.
The room is just as spacious and open as the living room, with identical white walls and a sliding glass door leading to a balcony. It’s quaint and cozy, an obvious sanctuary.
Lorenzo deposits me into a massive bed, larger than any king size bed I’ve ever seen. There’s a bamboo headboard behind us with cubbies and drawers. Matching white and bamboo nightstands adorn each side. He tucks me under a thick, white comforter, my head resting on a feathery pillow.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, placing an airy kiss on my forehead before hurrying out of the room, shutting the also blue door.
My senses are sharpening, and the events of the past—fuck,how many hours, days, or even weeks has it been? What day is it? Where’s my phone?Oh my god, is Felix okay?
My brain turns on like a motor that hasn’t run in years, sputtering and whirring until it finally gets enough gas to thrum properly. I flex my thighs and the gash burns with the effort. All of it rushes back to me as I lift my hand to graze the stinging cut in my cheek.
The injection, the grogginess, the man with the knife. The blood. The gunshot.
