Chapter 44 Sydney
Sydney
Sydney’s brain hurt, but in the best way possible. She pressed her fingers into her temples and rubbed circles to alleviate the ache. What an unbelievable roller coaster.
When she got into the truck, she had convinced herself Fink would kill her… eventually. She wasn’t sure how or when, but she expected it to come. Why wouldn’t it?
Fink had clarified that he worked alone—had existed by himself until she forced herself into his life. He hadn’t planned to take her on as a trainee. Sure, the sex was fantastic, and frequent, but was it worth the headache of having the cops lingering around?
There were limits to what a guy could take. She’d been dumped for far less before. Why would he be any different?
Except somehow as they trekked the miles between Maine and Minnesota, she not only gained a roommate and a new residence, but she got a boyfriend who would join her at a holiday dinner with the only family she ever knew. At least, she thought that was the outcome of their conversation.
Yep. Her brain was officially scrambled. This could all be a dream at this point.
She had never been more thankful to have been wrong about something in her entire existence.
Through sheer dumb luck, she’d stumbled into a life she never dreamed possible.
Mutual infatuation with a smart, interesting, and attentive partner.
A new, much more lucrative profession, and a hobby that made her feel alive.
Their situation wasn’t without complications, but that was how things went. She wouldn’t appreciate what she had if things were too smooth. However, now that they figured out their relationship, she was on the verge of believing that happiness was possible for her.
Crazy.
Fink
After twenty-three hours on the road, sleeping in two motels with the most uncomfortable mattresses he’d ever experienced, Fink pulled into the parking lot of Sydney’s apartment complex.
He couldn’t do these long trips like he used to.
While he considered himself to be in decent shape and worked out as much as he could to keep himself limber, sitting in a truck for so long and resting in uncomfortable situations were taking their toll.
At thirty-five, he sure as shit wasn’t a spring chicken anymore.
With the truck in Park, he groaned.
“You ready?” he asked, turning his attention to the woman stretching in the seat beside him.
She’d been nodding in and out for the past three hours. Though he was willing to bet she was looking forward to her own bed. He was. She had a decent mattress. It worked. Anything was better than sleeping sitting up in a truck or with springs in his back.
“Yeah,” she grunted.
He nodded. “You get the door; I’ll get the bags.”
“How long are we in town?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Through the holiday.”
Considering they had Thanksgiving plans, going back and forth made little sense. They could camp out here for now. Though, this time of year, people tended to get rather irritated with their loved ones. Seasonal Affective Disorder was a bitch.
Between the months of October and January were the busiest ones on the calendar for Fink. In 2020, he actually had to turn down contracts because they were too close together.
The fall and the beginning of winter were the best times to be a contract killer.
Ironic considering the commercials boasted love and family.
That wasn’t his experience either in his youth or in his career.
If others found it, he wasn’t about to rain on their parade. Holidays were different for everyone.
As Sydney dragged her feet toward the door, he climbed out of the truck. From the back, he retrieved their two duffels. When they’d packed, he hadn’t planned on staying more than a few days. He hadn’t thought about attending a family function.
Were they formal? In movies and television shows, he’d seen people dress up for those sorts of things. His bag contained comfy casual clothes. They’d have to go shopping before Thanksgiving.
He smirked. Everything about Sydney seemed to be unplanned—up to and including actually being with her. He’d made it a point to overanalyze and plan everything out and include variables.
For once, life threw him a curveball he hadn’t been prepared for. He hadn’t been this caught off guard since he was a kid and still learning just how awful existing could be.
This, though, Sydney, was a delight.
Crossing the threshold and entering the apartment, he snickered seeing her shoes kicked off near the door but not next to each other. Her pants decorated the large ottoman. Her bra dangled from the back of one of the high-top chairs.
Light came through the bottom of the bathroom door, and he assumed she brushed her teeth to get ready for bed. He couldn’t blame her. He felt the same way. There was nothing he wanted more than to cozy up and drift off to sleep beside her.
As he made his way through the space, he caught a glimpse of the stack of mail on the table. Considering her bills had been made paperless, he assumed it all to be junk. That was until the postcard on top caught his eye.
It was a photo of two women, a dog, and three children. The kids ranged in age from small to teen. Was this the family she didn’t talk about?
Unable to stop himself, he reached for it, flipped it over, and read the brief inscription on the back. Yep. It was from the people who had invited her, and now him, to Thanksgiving. No wonder they called. They’d asked her with this card and hadn’t heard from her.
Carefully, he placed it back on the stack of sales flyers and continued on his way into the bedroom.
He’d thought she had no one, like him, but that wasn’t the case.
Other people might have been jealous, but not him.
Fink was relieved. They weren’t identical.
She had people she could count on if she needed them.
He wouldn’t wish being alone in the world on anyone. For the first time, because of her, he believed he shouldn’t be either.