Chapter 23
Ranger
I’m angry. At the world. At douchebags named Stefon. At Elle. But mostly, I’m mad at myself. Fucking pissed off, actually. Because I should have seen this coming. I should have paid more attention to what was going on around me. Fuck, right under my own damn nose. Some creeper has been in my town, stalking my girl. Yes, I said my girl. She’s mine. I might not like it, but the truth never lies.
Elle gets in my truck as we all leave the gallery without complaining or saying something sassy. That’s not normal. She’s not even trying to cover up her unease, which makes me even more angry. Someone is fucking with my Tink and when I find them, they better hope I can’t get close.
At the hotel, I go to the desk and change out keys. They moved my stuff into the new room while we were at the gallery, and we have two new rooms. Ha! That was sweet. We won’t be needing two rooms. I plan on burying myself in her sweet, tight heat all night long and making both of us forget there’s a psycho out there. I thank the front desk clerk and grab the bag off of Elle’s shoulder. She looks so small. Lost. Have to admit, I don’t like it. When I take her hand in mine, she does this whole-body shiver, and I see her body physically relax.
“It’s all going to be okay,” I whisper in her ear as I reach across her to push the elevator button. “Promise.”
She nods, but doesn’t talk. The woman looks like she’s carrying the world on her shoulders. I much prefer the freak out she had last week, when she just threw everything out there. It’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up inside. Ask me how I know.
When we step on the elevator, we’re alone. I pull her into my arms and kiss the top of her head, relishing in the feeling of her relaxing against me.
“I got you, Tink,” I tell her.
She looks up at me, tears in her eyes, and I almost break. I almost tell her everything I’m trying so hard not to feel. Instead, I lower my head and kiss her. This kiss is different from any we’ve shared before. This isn’t about the next step, it’s solely for comfort. It’s soft and gentle, not hard and punishing. It’s full of promises and tomorrows and a future that terrifies me.
When the elevator dings and the doors open, Elle pulls away and looks at me with fathomless eyes. There are questions in those eyes, and I wish I had the answers, but I don’t.
“Let’s go to bed, Tink.” I hear the gruffness in my voice, and so does she.
She clasps my hand again, and we walk silently down the hall to our rooms. I open her door for us and let her walk in first.
“This is nice,” she quietly says as she enters the suite.
It looks like a big hotel room to me, with a bed and separate seating area with a small table by the window. I don’t usually get the ones with extra seating, but Elle is used to this life. To the extras. It’s another layer in the reasons why everything about being with her is a bad idea.
“Get comfortable, Tink,” I tell her. “I’m going to make sure all my stuff is in the other room. I’ll be right back, okay?”
She nods and heads into the bathroom. I hear the shower turning on and almost follow her. But I think she needs a few minutes alone. To let out the emotions, to not worry someone is judging her—which I wouldn’t do, for the fucking record. I’ve just opened the adjoining room’s door when my phone rings. Joker.
“Hey, what’s up?” I ask, entering the room and sighing in relief at my bag sitting on the bed.
“I went to see our friend again. Wanted to make sure the message was received,” he answers with no warning.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, watching the opening between rooms to make sure Elle is still in the bathroom. “And?”
“And the dude is messed up. His apartment looks like a woman decorated it.”
“How so?”
“Throw pillows, man. You know women are the only ones who buy those.”
I chuckle. “There were throw pillows, therefore a woman must live there?”
“Yes.” Simple. Direct. No hesitation.
“Did you ever think maybe his mom got him throw pillows? Or a sister? Cousin? Friend? Ex-girlfriend?”
“Would you keep your ex-girlfriends throw pillows?”
“Can we stop talking about fucking throw pillows? What the fuck did you say?”
“I asked him if he was her stalker in college, idiot.”
“And he denied it?”
“Yes, he denied it. So at least he isn’t a fucking moron, right? But I believe him. He was really wrecked at the thought of upsetting or scaring her. Swore he’s going to stay away from her and only deal with the gallery in a professional capacity.”
“You think he can do that?”
“I think he thinks he can do that. He also said he’d already called his therapist and realized how over-zealous he was being. That he understands he can’t expect Elle to love him back as quickly as he loved her, and realized that he pushed her away. That it’s all his fault. Blah blah blah.”
“So what’s our plan, then? If he’s so accepting of his fuck-ups, what’s the next move?” I ask, pulling a fresh t-shirt and boxers from my bag. A shower sounds really nice.
“I got a guy on him. He’ll make sure he doesn’t double back and hit the gallery again.”
“Do you think we should have called the cops?”
“I’m going to do more than the cops would,” he growls. “Nate’s bringing the equipment up Sunday, and we’re going to go over it with our shit. If we find anything, we’ll call the cops.”
“You really don’t enjoy working with them, do you?” I laugh.
“They make a mess of everything. They ruin any evidence with their old school fingerprint kits and shit. Makes it twice as hard to collect the actual evidence. How’s Elle?”
“Quiet.”
“That’s different.”
“Yeah,” I huff out a laugh. “No shit.”
“You sure you know what you’re doing there, man?”
“Not a fucking clue, but you can’t make me leave her side.”
“Not trying. But if she’s in a fucked-up headspace and you’re in a fucked-up headspace, she could get hurt. You could get hurt. Where’s your head at, Ranger?”
I sigh the sigh of a man about to face the firing squad. “I wish I knew.”
“Say it out loud,” he demands.
“She’s…” I start, swallowing the lump in my throat. “She’s different. Special.”
“I swear if you say she’s different than other girls, I’ll come down there and kick your ass.”
That gets a small, humorless laugh from me. “You know what I mean. She makes me feel something, and I don’t like feeling.”
“You mean she makes you hard?”
“No!” I answer loudly, offended on Elle’s behalf. “Well, yes. But no. She makes my heartbeat increase when she’s in the room. When she’s not ‘on’ and sits in silence, I feel her pain. It’s like a tangible thing in the air, and I want to take it away from her.”
“Oh, shit,” Joker mutters under his breath. “Fuck.”
“Yes. Exactly. So what do I do? I have to make sure she’s safe, Joker. I have to.”
“You have to face it head on.”
“I don’t think I can do it again.”
“That’s a decision only you can make. But I have a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“What do you feel when I say Vanessa?”
My body braces for the nausea that usually happens when people mention her name. The anger that rises immediately. The fists my hands make involuntarily. The ringing in my ears and sweat on my back.
And I have none of it.
“Huh,” I grunt.
“What?”
“I don’t feel…anything.” I look around the room. Yeah, I’m still sitting on the bed. Nothing’s changed. “Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I have absolutely zero feelings when you say her name.” I laugh. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means, my friend, you’re on the mend. There’s a fine line between love and hate. If you still have it in you to hate her, you’re still expending a lot of fucking energy on an emotion she doesn’t deserve.”
“So if it’s not hate, what is it?”
“Apathy. Pure, unadulterated apathy. You don’t care. What she does or doesn’t do no longer impacts you, your life, or your daily plans. She’s now just a person from your past. And that’s where she gets to stay now. In your past.”
“I like the thought of that. Think my family will stay there, too?”
“You know you have to face that eventually, right?”
“I have faced it. My family chose them over me. What’s there to face? I made a new family.”
“Is it really that simple?” he gently asks, knowing I’m full of shit.
“It is for me.”
We end the conversation after that and I realize Elle’s been in the bathroom with the shower going for a really long time. Getting up, I cross over into her room and realize she’s not in the shower. The bathroom door is wide open, and the light is off. How the fuck did I miss that? I look around and find her curled up on the couch, her arms around her knees, head leaning on the back of the couch, eye closed, asleep.
That will never work. I kneel in front of her and brush her hair off her head. I need to move her to the bed and tuck her in for the night, but being able to watch her in slumber, with no one questioning me? I’m going to take a minute.
“Oh, Tink. What am I going to do with you?” I mutter to myself, unable to pull my eyes away.
Shaking my head, I stand and pick her up, holding her to me. She doesn’t react other than to curl into my body. The bed has been turned down for the night, so I place her on the mattress and cover her up. She shivers when I let her go, rolling to her side.
I run back and grab my boxers and as I’m returning, I hear her.
“Ranger?” she slurs in her sleep.
“I’m here, Tink.”
“Stay?” She reaches one hand to me.
I sit on the edge of the bed and clasp her hand. “I’m going to jump in the shower. In here, okay? I’ll just be a minute.”
“Okay,” she sighs, squeezing my hand before falling limp and asleep again.
I get off the bed and go into the bathroom, turning the water on and stripping out of my clothes. I hear my phone ring as I step under the water, but ignore it. They can wait until tomorrow. Washing the day away helps me relax, but it gives me too much time to think. To think about what I want, what I have to change about myself to get it, and if I’m really the man who can do that.
My phone is still ringing when I step out of the shower and I grab it and answer without looking at the screen.
“Someone better be dying,” I growl.
“Yeah, actually, someone is. Our mom.”
It takes a minute for my brain to catch up with the voice and the words.
“Jeremy?” I say out loud, more to myself than to the voice on the phone, but he answers anyway.
“Do you have another brother?” Smartass.
“I wouldn’t know since everyone cut me off and left me alone to die, now would I?”
“Fuck you. You did that to yourself.”
“No, you did that. You and Vanessa. And you fucked with Mom and Dad’s minds until they left me, too. So fuck you for calling. Fuck you for still being alive. Fuck you for being the spoiled little brother whose only claim is my fucking leftovers.”
He’s talking, but I’m done listening. I end the call, missing the days I could slam down a receiver, and turn the phone all the way off. No way in the fucking universe will I be looking at that again. For good measure, I toss it through the open door, hoping it hits a wall and cracks, only a little disappointed when it lands on the bed, then crawl into Elle’s bed, pulling her close to me.
I’d love to say sleep comes easily, but it doesn’t. My conversation with Joker and the words my brother initially said about my mom loop in my head. I know I’m not good enough for the Goddess sleeping in my arms, but I want to be. And maybe if I can save her, I can prove myself worthy.