Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
It only felt like a matter of minutes before local police swarmed the apartment and I was giving my statement. In that time, we were notified that the FBI had gotten involved.
In an effort to keep André distracted, I sent him to refill my drink.
Unfortunately, I underestimated how long that would actually take, and he returned in the middle of my story.
I was the only one who noticed the change in his demeanor—and the way he blinked back tears.
Once the officer was finished, he crossed the room to hand me the drink.
“Is there anything I can do, baby?” he whispered, helping me back into my shirt.
“C-Can you call Dylan?” My throat hurt from so much talking, and my back was still no better. “I don’t think I can talk anymore.”
“Of course I will.” André grabbed his phone from the nightstand and left me alone once more.
It had taken hours for them to get everything they needed. Clothes, pictures, security footage from the hospital. They took down the number that Regan had been using, but it likely wouldn’t lead anywhere. He knew better.
By the time everyone left, André and I were both yawning.
“I managed to convince Dylan that he didn’t need to fly out here,” André said, stumbling across the room. He set his phone down and undressed for bed. “He said he’d call your parents. Can I do anything for you?”
My mouth nearly twitched into a smile. That was the only thing André had asked me all day: “Can I do anything for you?” He didn’t ask me if I was okay, because we both knew that I wasn’t. I blew out a breath, determined not to let my emotions take control.
“Hold me?” I choked. I’d intended to ask properly, but my body had other ideas.
André slid into bed, reclining onto the headboard and opening his arms to invite me in.
I molded into his side, curling my leg around his and settling right in like I belonged plastered to his side.
My head rested on his chest, and I let the beat of his heart soothe me to sleep like a soft, thumping lullaby.
The next morning, the thought of getting out of bed brought tears to my eyes again.
At least I was graced with soft kisses on my cheek.
I had my doctor’s appointment, and we needed to be up early to get there on time.
I didn’t find out until after that he’d opened the office an hour early just for me.
After a diagnosis of a kidney infection, and a trip to the pharmacy for antibiotics and painkillers, I begrudgingly went to the police station.
They wanted me to sit down with a sketch artist. André positioned himself in the corner of the room, but I had no doubt that he was watching closely.
The sketch artist stayed across the table, sliding the sketchpad over to me each time he needed me to look.
If he moved, I would flinch and shut down.
On the last slide across the table, I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the pad. I kept my arms crossed defensively over my stomach. I had to fight the urge to push the chair away from the table and walk out.
“That’s it,” I whispered. “That’s him.”
“We’ll get this out,” the artist said softly, letting himself out of the room.
I stayed in my chair until he was out the door, and André laid a hand on my shoulder. “Do you need anything?” he asked quietly.
It took every ounce of energy I had left in my body to nod my head, but I wasn’t entirely sure how he would receive what I was about to ask for. “But I also need you to be okay with it.”
Andre’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed was the only indicator of nerves. “Okay.”
“I need you to call Mitchell. Can you see if he can meet with me today?”
André’s eyes widened slightly and he took a deep breath, but he didn’t say anything right away. We hadn’t talked about the argument that we’d had. Both of us were clearly avoiding the situation. I needed to talk it out with someone—someone who wasn’t André.
“You look exhausted,” he finally said. “I’ll call him, but can you promise me you’ll go home and nap before we do anything else?”
I definitely wouldn’t say no to a nap. “Deal.”
When André offered me a hand and helped me to my feet, I let out the breath that I’d seemingly been holding for days. The feeling I got when I slid my palm into his was one that I never wanted to forget. I’d never felt safer.
The moment we stepped into the coffee shop, I regretted it. The smell of freshly-brewed espresso was nothing more than a tease—I wasn’t allowed caffeine until the infection cleared.
I found Mitchell right away, sitting in the corner on his phone. Judging by the way André pressed into my back and possessively gripped my hips, so did he. His sudden jealousy was surprising, and one of the things I intended to ask Mitchell about.
I took a step away and took André’s hand, signaling him to walk.
Fresh from the office, Mitchell was wearing a polished and pressed suit. He’d taken his black jacket off and tossed it over the back of the chair. The Dolce & Gabbana tag faced upward.
“Mitch,” André said, capturing the man’s attention. “Hey, you two.” Mitchell locked his phone and slid it into his pocket. “How are you feeling? André mentioned that you’d been sick.”
“I’ll be fine, it’s just an infection,” I dismissed, sitting across from him at the table. I put on my best puppy dog eyes, taking André’s hand in mine. “Can I have—”
“No coffee,” he interjected, eliciting a laugh from his friend.
“Fine,” I groused. “A smoothie, I guess.”
André then turned his attention to Mitchell. “Do you want anything?” I could practically see the wheels turning in André’s head.
Mitchell shook his head and ran a hand through his messy black hair. “No, I’ve already had one. I wouldn’t want to tease the poor kid.”
André placed a gentle kiss on my forehead before walking away.
“Thank you for meeting with me,” I said once André was out of earshot.
“It’s not a problem.” Mitchell looked down at the table, spinning around a cardboard coaster that had been left behind. “How are you doing after… everything?”
I tucked my hands under my legs to prevent myself from picking at my nails. “I’ve been better,” I admitted. “I’m assuming André told you about yesterday.”
“He did.”
André returned to the table then, setting a bright pink drink in front of me. “Where’s yours?” I asked.
“I’m not staying. I’ll let you two have your talk. I need to run a couple errands. Is that okay?”
André combed through my hair as he spoke, and I trapped his hand against my neck. “It’s fine.”
Underneath it all, my heart raced. It would be the first time I would be out in public without André. I could rationalize it all I wanted to, but the truth of the matter was that we just didn’t know what would happen.
I had no doubt that André could feel my carotid thundering beneath his palm. Still, he leaned down and pressed a passionate—way too short—kiss on my lips. I swallowed a noise of protest. He was busy directing his attention to Mitchell.
“I’m trusting you,” he said. Based on the tone of his voice, it was meant as a warning.
I waited until André had disappeared from sight before I began to speak. “Okay, before I get into anything else, what the hell is that all about?” I ripped the paper off the smoothie straw and stabbed it through the lid. “He’s always so confident—until it comes to you.”
Mitchell laughed, and launched into the story.
“About three years ago, André and I spent a week in New York for our licensing exam. Every night we went out, and every night, I wound up leaving with the person that André had his eye on. It was sort of an unspoken competition—for me anyway. Back then, it was nothing more than a bit of fun between two friends.”
“What makes me different?”
Mitchell only shrugged. “He loves you. It’s as simple as that. I can see it. I see it in the way he looks at you. He might not have said it out loud, but he doesn’t have to. When André loves, he loves hard. When he saw that card, he got scared.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and I blamed brain freeze.
“He got scary,” I confessed. “The last time a boyfriend shouted at me I…”
I trailed off and looked down at my lap. I knew I had to open up if I wanted to understand André, and if I wanted him to understand me. The vulnerable, splayed-open feeling that came along with it? That was one thing I didn’t think I’d ever get used to. I didn’t like feeling like a victim.
Mitchell watched me with a look that made me want to call this whole thing off and run straight into André’s arms.
“I don’t doubt that his reaction scared you,” he finally said, dropping his voice.
I could hardly hear him now, but the change in his tone was comforting.
“I do know that if you told him that, he would apologize profusely and spend the rest of his life making sure it never happened again. André doesn’t do anything with ill intent.
Don’t tell him I told you this, but I once saw him tear up because he accidentally killed a bumblebee in his office. ”
I smiled. “You’re kidding!”
Mitchell shook his head with a smile. “Nope. He’s a big softie. But he also fights for what he loves. The way he looks at you, there’s no doubt in my mind that he would kill for you.”
Heat prickled under my collar. “I don’t know if I should tell him.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you should, but you don’t have to. He already knows that he scared you.”
“I don’t…” I huffed, frustrated. “I’ve never…”
“Been in a healthy relationship?”
I choked out a laugh, but he was right. I was so used to taking the yelling, and the screaming, and the hitting, that the only thing I’d learned to do over the years was sit down and shut up. “I know you’ve known him for a long time. I’ve got a long way to go.”
Mitchell had given up on spinning the cardboard around and had taken to shredding it to pieces.
“I have known him for a long time,” he confirmed. “And in the time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him like this over someone. Yeah, he was pouty about the guys in New York, but he didn’t look at any of them like he looks at you. You don’t have anything to be scared about when it comes to him.”
I toyed with the lid on the plastic cup, reluctant to finish the thing. I’d walked into that place with so much to say, but hearing someone else talk about how much André loved me made me rethink everything.
Earlier that day, I’d almost made a rash decision.
While André napped, I’d dug my suitcase out from the back of the wardrobe. When I replaced it, it was full of everything I’d need to sneak away.
I couldn’t keep putting him through this.
He hadn’t signed up for any of it. The night we’d met, he was expecting a hot hook-up.
Instead, he got a boyfriend with trust issues and a lifetime of trauma.
He didn’t deserve any of it. If he was going to fall in love, he deserved someone who wouldn’t bring him nothing but problems.
The door opened, letting in a rush of cold air and snapping me out of my thoughts. When the sun went down, it had taken the warmth with it. While the air was still sticky, any wind blowing through would chill you right to the bone.
But André stepped through the door, and warmth spread through my veins.
He found my eyes, and the corner of his mouth quirked into that heart-stopping grin.
Mitchell stood before André could reach the table.
“Go home and enjoy the night with your man. Your man. He’s yours just as much as you are his. ”
The two men embraced each other and exchanged a few quiet words. André kept his eyes glued to mine, stirring up those butterflies in my stomach. The dimming light in the coffee shop made the emerald sparkle.
When Mitchell left, I didn’t hesitate to place myself right into André’s open arms, wrapping mine tight around his waist. I nuzzled into his neck, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin. I didn’t miss the way he shuddered in my grip. “Are you alright?” he asked with a soft, breathy chuckle.
“I’m just fine,” I whispered, taking my coat from his hand.
“You don’t want to finish your smoothie?”
“No. I want to go home.”
Not giving him another chance to argue, I tipped my head back so my lips met his. André hesitantly melted into the kiss, carefully keeping his hand on the small of my back.
“Take me home,” I reiterated. “Please.”
With his forehead pressed against mine, André nodded. “Okay.”
Once inside the warmth of the apartment, André sat on the couch and after grabbing a blanket, I settled in his arms. I had no idea how to bring up the events of the day before. When I finally opened my mouth, so did he.
“About yesterday…”
“I’m sorry.”
I let out a nervous laugh.
“You first.”
André patted my hip and I sat up, pulling the blanket across my lap.
André blinked against glassy eyes, taking my hands in his.
“I am so sorry, David,” he began. “I was way out of line yesterday. I’m not even going to try justifying my actions, and you have every reason not to believe me when I say it won’t happen again, but I mean it.
You were hurt, you were scared, and I overreacted. I’m so sorry.”
His voice cracked, and heat built behind my own eyes.
He’d addressed everything I wanted to say.
I tugged on his hands, intending to kiss him but toppling into his lap instead.
André fell backward, sending us both into a fit of laughter.
I accepted defeat and laid my head on his chest, and that was that.
Neither of us said anything else. We didn’t need to.
The T.V. stayed off. Phones rang, but we ignored them.
I hadn’t realized I’d drifted off laying on top of André until I woke up with a dry mouth and an ache in my back.
I desperately wanted to go back to sleep but seeing André resting so soundly and feeling his arm around me, made me think about that packed suitcase in the back of the closet. I’d destroy him if I left.
He'd chosen me, and for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. The man who’d never committed in his life had claimed me as his—along with all my baggage.
I’d be a fool to let that go.
Carefully extracting myself from André’s arms, I tiptoed to the guest room and unpacked. I returned to the living room in time to catch him stirring.
“Are you okay?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.
“I’m fine.” I extended my hand to him. “Come to bed.”
As I climbed into bed next to him, André fell asleep almost immediately. I hated to wake him up, but I needed him. Hesitantly, I tugged on his shoulder. He rolled onto his back and lifted his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I responded, easing into my spot. “But from now on, you’re legally required to hold me whenever I want.”
His laugh kickstarted my heart, the vibrations against my cheek simmering through my veins. Gentle lips pressed against my forehead. “I won’t fight you on that one, darlin’.”