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The problem is, this peace is so tentative, so fresh that I fear broaching the subject is like poking a bear.
Trent sits beside me in the back seat as his driver steers us into the city. My leg is elevated like the doctor ordered. I guess it’s a good thing Trent owns a Maybach. I can’t imagine that many cars would allow me to do this.
We still haven’t pierced the silence since his sister left.
I won’t be the first to do it.
Trent’s profile is the only thing visible to me as he stares out of the window, watching the scenery change from rural to concrete.
I wonder if he regrets his decision to bring me back with him.
Yeah, he feels guilty for what happened to me, but he could have pawned me off on my sister. Despite our differences, I’m thankful he asked me to stay with him.
Since all my stuff is already in Trent’s loft and his is the most secure place I’ve been to, this plan makes the most sense.
However, the closer we get, the more I’m not sure.
The drive is eerily quiet.
No music plays. Neither of us speaks.
I just want to get home already.
Home.
What a strange word.
Is his place my home?
No. Not really.
But I have lived there for over a month and feel safer in the loft, under Trent’s wings, than I ever felt in any house or apartment with Erin.
Maybe it’s not my home, but it sure does feel good to be going back.
After the accident, I just want normalcy.
That would never have happened with Erin and Brad. The man gives me major creep vibes.
Something’s off about him. Beyond the drugs, the booze, and the penchant for dealing.
At first, it was the way he looked at me.
It wasn’t sexual necessarily.
Just off.
I shake my head and pull my focus back to the outside landscape. We approach the bridge and cross over it.
It won’t be long now.
My bed beckons me, and I stifle a yawn at the thought.
That makes Trent shuffle in his seat.
I turn to see what he’s doing.
He is staring at me.
