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He steps away from the door. "Okay, I’m not going in if that makes you feel better, we'll just call the police, okay?”
"A-and you won't go in."
"Not if you don't want me to."
I should want him to. I should want to send him into a war-zone, but I don't. The only thing that would make this morning worse is if he wasn't in this world at all.
"Do you have your phone?" he asks.
"Um... yeah. In my purse.”
The handbag on my shoulder is gently removed and I see him digging through it.
"What's the password?”
"Nathan's birthday," I hear myself say.
The phone clicks as Kylian taps in six numbers on my iPhone, presses a few more buttons, then holds it up to his ear.
A few minutes later, he hangs up and tucks the phone into his pocket. That's when I realize that he's dressed in nothing but a pair of black track pants.
"Where are your clothes?"
"At home," he answers, and shrugs. “The police will be here in a moment.” Then, after looking at me, he says, "Do you need a drink or something? I can go inside—"
"No!"
I feel my body wrapped up in his arms, my face against his chest. "Okay, okay. I won't go inside. Can I ask one of the neighbors for a glass of water?"
My head shakes against him. "I’m fine. Just... please stay with me until the police get here."
He grips my shoulder, pushes me forward. and crouches so that his eyes are on mine. "I'm not leaving, do you hear me? Not now. Not ever."
And then I'm in his arms again. And just for now, I let myself take comfort in Kylian Baxter.
Once the police have come and gone, I'm more or less back in my right mind. The apartment was completely trashed, but I knew it was going to be. It’s not the first time I've come home to a door purposely left open; it’s done to strike fear in my heart from the moment I see it. The trashed apartment is just the icing on the cake.
As far as I can tell from a cursory glance around the rooms, nothing is gone. Robbing me is not the point. Driving me insane is. And I'm not going to let him do it to me again.
I shouldn't have let Kylian call the police, but he'd caught me off guard. And in his presence I'd completely crumbled, which is not like me at all. Kiara could withstand the zombie apocalypse, everyone used to say. She'd be running rival gangs behind the scenes after a few days.
And yet now, at the sight of a broken-into apartment, I'd completely and utterly lost my shit.
What was wrong with me?
Had one night with Kylian fucked so hard with my brain that I couldn't even function any more?
Kylian gave me the space I needed when the police came and took my statement, but I could still always feel him there, listening to every word, ready to jump in if I ever needed anything. The moment they'd stepped away, he was right there by my side with a bottle of water in his hand. Without me asking, he'd said, "It's sealed, I found a case under your bed."
I don’t know whether to be touched that he'd made such an effort to look so hard for a drink that I could take with peace of mind, or that he now knew that I had a secret stash of water and food in my bedroom, just in case I’m ever stuck there after an earthquake. I'm not much of a doomsdayer, but dying of thirst before rescuers can find me is the worst way I can imagine of leaving this world.
And now it's just the two of us, standing in a trashed apartment.
"I'm just going to go grab something to throw over my sexy chest," he jokes and leaves the room.
I wait until he's gone before I check my secret hiding spot and all my money is there. I let out an exhale of relief. I'll check the pot plant in the bedroom once Kylian comes back out. It’s not the money, it’s the knowing my hiding spots have or have not been found.
After a few minutes, he comes ambling out. "Well, no luck. I never thought that I'd be mad that everything you wear is tight. But I'm not really in the mood to go out there wearing a dress that looks like a crop top on me."
