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“I’m holding you,” he tells me as he rolls me into his arms. “Though if I have to tell you what I’m doing, then I’m not doing a very good job.”
I have nothing to say to that, so I keep my mouth shut as he plays with my hair while I rest my head on his chest.
When I wake up, I expect to find him gone, but instead, he’s fast asleep beside me. Well, beside and under me. I seem to have rolled virtually on top of him in my sleep.
I ease myself out of his hold and stare down at him. His features seem to soften when he sleeps. When he’s awake, he hasa far harsher look. A vibe that says back-off-or-I’ll-fuck-you-up energy. Looking at him now, though, he seems almost boyish.
I use the bathroom quickly, then brush my teeth and get my hair under some kind of control. When I realize that’s never going to happen without washing it, I pull it up into a messy bun. With a deep breath, I walk back into the bedroom where Valen is still sleeping and tug on a simple white spaghetti-strapped sundress over a pair of nude panties and matching strapless bra.
Making my way downstairs, I head into the kitchen to make breakfast. I don’t have the ingredients to do anything special, so I pull out the instant pancake mix I bought yesterday. Pulling out a mixing bowl, measuring cup, and frying pan, I open the music app on my phone and cook to the sound of 90s hip-hop.
I’m dancing around the kitchen, singing into the spatula, when a cough has me freezing in place. I look over and see a highly amused man leaning against the wall, watching me.
“I have to say those were some impressive moves, Miss Anderson.”
“This is the last time I’m making you breakfast,” I mutter, turning my back on him.
A moment later, I feel his hands on my hips and his hard body pressed against mine as his lips skim my ear.
“Anytime you need a dance partner, just let me know.”
I elbow him in the ribs, making him laugh.
A thump at the door has us both turning to look. Moments later, a boy on a bike tosses a paper at the neighbor’s door.
“Here, you finish up here. I’m going to grab the paper. See if they wrote anything interesting about me. Like how I’m actually some senator’s long-lost love child. Or that I’m from another planet, and that’s the only reason I survived the attack.”
“What the fuck? You’re messing with me, right?”
I walk around him and head to the door, laughing. “You have no idea. On a side note, reading shit like that makes me feel a lot less crazy.”
I don’t hear what he says, I’m too busy peering out the peephole to make sure there isn’t anyone there.
When I’m sure that the coast is clear, I open the door and look down. I spot the paper lying next to an overturned potted plant, but that’s not what makes me freeze in place.
No, it’s the sight of a wooden music box on my step, shattered into a dozen pieces.
“Rue? You want coffee with this?” Valen calls out, the sound of his voice getting closer.
I can’t take my eyes off the destroyed box in front of me. I feel my chest tighten, and I get light-headed, unable to get enough air into my lungs.
“Rue?” Valen is right behind me now, hands on my arms, moving me out of the way. “What’s wrong?” He looks down and curses. “What the fuck?”
His hand comes around to rest on my stomach as he pulls me close. He turns me to face him, his hands cupping my cheeks. “Take a deep breath for me.”
I do as he asks and blow it out as he encourages me to take another.
“Good girl. Now we’re going to get you back inside and call the cops. I don’t like you being out here like this.”
I nod, happy for him to take control. He closes the door and guides me into the living room. Just as I’m about to sit down on the sofa, a car horn blares outside, triggering a memory.
The smell of pennies is in the air, and the taste of ash in my mouth as I whistle a tune.
It’s dark out, the kind of dark where you can’t see your hand in front of your face, but I’m not afraid. I’ve been here enough times to navigate the place with my eyes closed.
It’s cold, though—colder than I thought it would be. I should have worn more layers. I’ll have to remember for next time.
A car horn sounds in the distance, but I ignore it when I see a spark of light appear a few feet in front of me. A warm orange glow reminds me of a lightning bug until it moves down in an arc. That’s when I realize it’s the ember of a cigarette.
