Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
COLE
As I try the lock, Sierra remarks, “That’s weird.”
Weird in a string of oddities. The accident. The possible car tailing us. Now the lock.
I examine the gold-tone key for any anomalies. “Looks normal, but doesn’t fit this lock. Could have given us the wrong key.”
She glances around. “Do you think the office is on site? Maybe we could ask?”
“Possibly, but I have a faster solution.”
I do a quick check. No camera. No one around. I fish my wallet out. When I pull out my lock pick her eyes go wide.
She laughs. The light catches her pretty smoke-blue eyes. “Is B&E in your skill set too?”
Oof. That laugh. The killer smile. The dancing light in her eyes. Danger zone.
What did she say?
The lock takes no time to pick. When I open the door, I grin with pride. “A little lock picking, amongst other talents. Now wait here while I clear the apartment.”
The familiar, feminine scent that lingers in her apartment hits me. It comes from Sierra’s favorite lavender lotion. A visceral reaction stirs deep inside of me.
It doesn’t ease my concern.
“You’re seriously worried, aren’t you, Cole?”
I scan the kitchen, then move along the hallway. “Put it this way. I’ll feel better when we’re out of Virginia.” First, I open the door to the half-bath, then the primary suite.
“The lock was really easy to pick, or you’re really good.” Her voice grows more distant. Good girl. She’s staying put.
“All clear,” I call out as I finish my search in the bedroom. When I get back to her, I close the entrance door and lock it.
That makes me scowl. “The crap locks on this door are part of the reason I won’t have you staying here now.”
The air inside the apartment is warm and dry from the radiator style heaters that sit under the windows.
“It’s stifling in here,” she mutters as she walks farther into the small living room.
My guess—it’s not just the temperature. It’s hard for me to breathe too.
Lots of memories live here. Pile on the stress of the situation, and it’s like a bad sauna.
She pauses. Her hand rises to her neck. “So weird.”
It seriously sucks to watch as she walks around cataloging the details like she’s in the home of a stranger. I want to drag her into my arms and kiss her stress away so badly that it hurts.
When she reaches the bookshelf on the far wall, she halts with a strangled laugh. “Jesus, I must like turtles.” With curled lip she turns to look at me.
Cute.
“You do.”
The adorable expression turns to worry in a flash. “What if I don’t like the same things anymore?”
“No one says you have to. A person’s allowed to change.”
Her lashes narrow as she looks me over. “What if I don’t like you?”
This hits too close to home. But I shrug and try to play it off. “Then I guess you don’t like me… I wouldn’t like it, but I can’t force you.”
For a beat, she studies me for a reaction as her fingers worry at the hem of her shirt. “You wouldn’t be upset?”
If by upset she means destroyed. Then yes. It takes work to swallow roughly around the knot in my throat. “Yes, Sierra, it would upset me.”
We stare at each other. Indecision rides me so hard it makes me feel like throwing up.
Do I tell her now that this fiancé thing is an act? If I did, would I confess she hated me the last time I saw her?
I shove my hand in my hair and turn away.
This situation is a nightmare. The options aren’t good. Truthfully, I don’t want her to ever remember that painful night. Wish it could be erased from my mind too.
What the fuck am I going to do?
There’s a small, sad noise behind me. When I turn back around, I hiss in a breath. Sierra’s crying. She’s holding a tiny glass turtle toward me.
Her voice trembles. “It’s so beautiful. If this was a gift, I can’t remember who gave it to me. Do you know where this is from?”
“It’s hand blown glass.” I step toward her and lift the tiny glass creature. “It’s from Italy.”
She watches me. I don’t tell her I know exactly when she got it. I missed my flight to meet her there. We were supposed to spend the weekend together.
She wipes her tears off with her wrist. “It’s beautiful, so delicate.”
Carefully, she places it back on the shelf. Her inspection of the turtles continues. One by one.
Resolve settles into my bones. Sierra’s not getting rid of me until she’s well enough to stand on her own feet. However long that takes.
I space out and don’t realize she is watching me until she checks on me. “Cole, are you okay?”
“Fine.” I try to sound normal, even though I’m as far from fine as a man can get.
I glance around the apartment. Nope, not telling her now.
I don’t want to be camped out on her sofa in Virginia for god knows how long.
The locks on her door suck. The couch is too small.
I don’t feel good about what’s happened here in Virginia.
I want her out of town. In Utah, I can get some help to look out for her.
Besides, I’ve got a job and need to get started training with the team.
I tip my head toward the hallway. “Let’s get you packed. We’re on a schedule.”
Keep it simple. One step at a time. Reducing the stress right now is priority numero uno.
The fewer chances of freak-outs, the better. I’m not going to be able to carry an unwilling woman through the airport, so I’ve got to do preventive damage control.
Something I learned well in the Air Force. The less that gets blown up, the less you have to patch people up afterwards.
“Where are we going?”
Landmine alert. This may not sit well. “North of Salt Lake City in Utah.”
She flinches and steps back like someone that saw a giant spider. “Utah? That’s a long way from Virginia.”
I sense a slew of questions coming my way, so I turn around and walk off. Avoidance tactics at work. My feet carry me toward the bedroom where we made so much noise that we constantly infuriated her neighbor.
“Come on. I see you remember geography just fine.”
I should run the other way when she follows me into that room of temptation. But thankfully Sierra’s prickly, and the mood is anything but sexy right now.
I open the closet. “It’s cold in Utah now. Bring winter clothes.”
She jerks a thin raincoat off the hanger and tosses it in the bag.
Next, Sierra throws in some kind of boots that won’t do much good at all in winter weather.
After a few more trips to the closet, she groans in frustration and turns to face me.
With a shirt clutched in her hand, she mutters, “I have no idea what to take.”
“Well—” I look around. “I’m a guy, so what I’d take would probably be different, but I’d keep it simple.”
Her eyes stay on me as I move to the dresser. A glimmer of light catches my eyes. It’s from a silver bracelet that lies next to the lamp.
God. It can’t be the bracelet I gave her.
It was once her favorite, or so she liked to tell me. I gave it to her on our third date. Totally on impulse.
Something inside of me cracks as I push the tiny silver airplane charm around with my fingertip.
So, she kept it.
Even though she swore she’d hate me forever, she kept it.
Emotion swells up inside of my throat until the pain makes me shudder.
A younger, more foolish version of me might have thought it meant something that she still has it. But I’m not twenty. And I’m not that kind of foolish. The kind of damage our relationship suffered runs too deep.
Hell, maybe she kept it because she liked to hurl it across the room, cursing my name.
With my back to her, I pocket the thing.
When the time’s right, I’ll give it back to her.
Or maybe I won’t.