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“Thanks, Creed.”Her gaze meets mine.“I don’t know what I’d do without you.I don’t know whatAJwould do without you.”
I paste a smile onto my face, her words like a knife to my chest.
There’s no question in my mind I need to get my own place and move on with my life.But the reminder of how much my nephew needs me forces the guilt I’ve saddled myself with for ages to bubble back to the surface.
“Do you…want to come upstairs?”She touches her hand to my bicep, a glimmer of something in her green eyes.
It’s not desire.There’s never been anything remotely resembling desire or passion between us, not like there is between Esme and me.With Rory, it’s more like a tiny ray of hope that I’ll help numb the sorrow, even if for only a short while.
“I, uh…” I step away from her, roughing a hand through my hair.“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”
She doesn’t say anything right away.Just stares at me.Finally, she nods.“You’re right.AJ might wake up early.”
I part my lips, on the brink of telling her that’s not the reason.That we need to stop this unhealthy arrangement.
That I’m moving out.
But four in the morning on the day after she learned the man who killed the love of her life could be responsible for another death isn’t the ideal time.
“Yeah.”I swipe my mug off the coffee table and head into the kitchen, rinsing it in the sink.“I’m going to head to the gym.Talk later?”
She wraps her arms around herself.“Right.Of course.Have a good workout.”
I give her one last smile, then head upstairs to change.
I didn’t plan on hitting the gym before five on a Sunday morning, but it’s better than staying here.
ChapterFive
Esme
A chill clingsto the air as I walk along the empty palace grounds toward the athletic center, a slight chill in the air.I hadn’t planned on coming here today, but after a fitful night filled with troubling dreams, I figured a distraction would be good.
Since I can’t use Creed as a distraction right now, working out is the next best thing.It’s often the one part of my day when I can turn off everything else, focus all my attention on what I’m doing, whether that’s cardio, lifting weights, or even working the punching bag.
Right now, I’m desperate to focus on something other than witnessing Creed die in my dream.
I swipe my access card outside the large building that houses the state-of-the-art training and fitness center reserved for palace employees.I could work out at the gym in my apartment, but I needed to get out of there.Go somewhere to clear my head and forget what I saw.Get away from the negative energy filling that place.
Not surprisingly, the fitness center is empty at five on a Sunday morning, as I expected it would be.I head past the rows of treadmills and elliptical machines toward a line of punching bags in the far corner.Dropping my bag to the floor, I unzip it and grab my mitts and earbuds, popping them into my ears.Once my mitts are secure on my hands, I do a few easy jabs and kicks, slowly warming up.After several minutes, I lose myself in the music and routine, tuning out everything else as my punches and kicks become harder and more intense.
It’s surprisingly therapeutic.
Kick after kick, punch after punch, I do everything to chase away my demons.To push the man with the scar from my memory.To forget seeing Creed get shot in my apartment while I remained bound, unable to help him.But no matter how hard I kick or punch, I can’t erase the memory of Creed’s eyes staring back at me as the life drained from them.
So I kick even harder.
Punch even more brutally.
Sweat even more profusely.
Still, nothing works.
When a deep voice cuts through my trance, I panic, not sure what’s real and what’s my subconscious trying to mess with me.I whirl around, about to defend myself against whoever it is, even if it’s merely a figment of my imagination.
A strong hand wraps around my forearm, preventing me from delivering any sort of blow, and I snap out of my trance.My eyes widen as they fall on Creed’s face, a hint of a smile on his lips.
But it disappears in an instant, brows drawing together in concern.
