Chapter 47 Dex - Past
forty-seven
Dex - Past
WHAT COMFORT FEELS LIKE.
Pale blue eyes looked us over, and without asking a single question, Roy stepped to the side, holding the door open.
Jonah had followed me in his car, the one bag containing everything we now owned thrown in his back seat as I started up my bike and led him here, to the only place I could think of going.
My head wasn’t right, never was around that woman.
I couldn’t think clearly. She’d been bad before, said mean things, and she’d hurt me—fuck, she’d even threatened to kill me before—but she’d never thrown me out.
I’d never challenged her before, though.
Never wanted to risk what would happen if I did.
Because maybe they weren’t just idle threats.
Roy closed the door behind us.
“Staying a while, then?” he asked, eyes on the bag in Jonah’s hand before they flicked to mine.
Just having him look at me made the heat I’d fought back on the ride here resurface. I shut my eyes tight so they wouldn’t spill my secrets and I nodded. When I opened them again he nodded as well.
“Right. This way.”
With no further preamble, Roy led the way down the hall of his home. It was aged but well maintained. Light gray carpet streaked with uniform lines from a recent vacuum, and wood-paneled walls absorbed the late morning sun. The air smelled of warm pine and something sweeter… something comforting.
The room he led us to had a completely different vibe—a bed much bigger than mine, covered in floral bedding and decorative pillows, the furniture all white unlike the dark-wood theme throughout the rest of the house.
It wasn’t overly spacious, but it was tidy, with a vanity to one side and a tall white wardrobe on the other.
A large window filled the space with scattered sunlight shining through its lace curtain.
I turned to Roy, raising a tired brow.
He shrugged a shoulder. “Was the wife’s room.” He cleared his throat. “Right, then. I’ll be… around. If you need me.”
With that, he shuffled off toward the kitchen, and I knew I owed him more of an explanation. I’d make sure I gave it to him, but I didn’t have the energy for it right now. Jonah closed the door and locked it behind us before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
He’d been so very quiet. I knew there was a fire burning inside him, desperate to be unleashed upon the woman who had just shaken our world, but he kept it in. His eyes searched mine, seeking another way forward.
I didn’t have answers for him. There weren’t any words. I didn’t know how to comfort him or how to ask for comfort. Because I’d dealt with this on my own my entire life, all I wanted to do was shrink into the shadows and hide until things felt quiet and calm again.
They should have been calm. I was out of her reach, and these walls had never seen me hurt. Still, her claws sunk into me from the inside, from the memories and the scared little child I kept locked away in my core. He was safer there, locked away always, but he was scared, and he was alone.
Jonah kicked his shoes off, shuffling on the bed until his back rested on the pillows before he held his arms out to me.
My inner child reached for him, longing for a comfort forever denied to him, hands that would hold and soothe rather than destroy.
I went to him, lay over him, my face buried in the fabric at his chest, my legs slotted between his like a perfect puzzle piece.
His arms wrapped around me, and mine around him, and I cried.
I wept like that small child inside me wanted to weep all those years, because there was finally someone who would listen.
Jonah held me as if he could reach through time and cradle all the past versions of me that needed this, that needed him.
So this is what comfort feels like. This was what it felt like to be held by hands that would never harm me, to be touched by a soul that wouldn’t leave me. Jonah was nothing like my mother, and he was nothing like my father because he wouldn’t leave.
I cried until my eyes felt heavy, until all the fear drained from my soul and soaked into his clothing, the hurt smoothed away by his hands as he ran them gently over my back. Soft fingers dipped under fabric to trace invisible patterns directly over my skin.
I wasn’t certain when I fell asleep, or how long I was out for before a gentle knock on the door pulled me back.
Jonah was still here, his fingers combing slowly through my hair.
I pulled back to look at him. His expression was soft, open, safe.
He sat up just enough to place a lingering kiss on my lips.
“Want me to tell him to go away?” he whispered.
I huffed in amusement. “No, baby. I’m okay now.”
Except when I opened the bedroom door, Roy wasn’t there.
The hallway was empty, but I looked down and saw a tray resting by the doorway with a plate of sandwiches and a carafe of water with two stacked glasses.
The gesture threatened to bring heat to my eyes again, but I’d done enough crying for one day.
I shook them off, picked up the offering, and brought it inside to share with Jonah.
As much as I wanted to stay locked away in this room with Jonah for the rest of my life, the world wouldn’t stop and wait for me to be ready to go on. There were things that needed doing, most unfortunately by me.
It was already dark, and I’d ignored a few phone calls. I had no doubts about who they were from. I’d kept Harper waiting, and he was no doubt pissed off about that.
“I have to go out for a bit,” I told Jonah, even though I knew I didn’t have the energy for the battle that leaving would probably trigger.
“Where are you going?” he asked, surprising me slightly.
“Have to see one of the Strays.”
“Will you be safe?”
“Yeah, baby, I promise. Just picking something up.”
Jonah frowned. “How long will you be gone?”
“A while. But I’ll have my phone on me if you need me for anything.”
I waited for the arguments, but none came. He simply nodded. “Okay. I’m going to visit Bee for a bit, then.”
“Okay, baby.” I kissed him softly, and then again. “You call me if you need anything, okay?”
“I will.”
I left the room and caught the scent of roast meat and herbs. Roy was busy in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables. A tendril of guilt coiled in my gut. “I’m um… I need to head out for a bit.”
Roy turned to face me, and looked me over, no doubt trying to figure me out and the situation I was in without directly asking about it. He nodded, eyes straying to the food he’d been cooking before finding mine again. “You don’t need my permission for that, son.”
“I know… just… I want to explain, but… later?”
He nodded again, turning back to his cooking. “Anytime, kid. I’m here.”
“Were you… cooking for us?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “I’m just cooking. But there’s enough, and you boys need to eat, so…”
“I’ll eat when I get back. It smells really good.”
“Right. Good.”
A smile pulled at my lips. “Thanks, old man.”
“Get outta here, brat.”
I laughed, feeling a bit lighter as I left the warmth of his home.
I needed the ride more than I’d thought—the open road, the wind whipping past as Delilah and I weaved through traffic and headed for the city.
The building Harper lived in was massive, all cold glass and steel, and I was met with scrutinizing eyes as I entered the lobby.
The man behind the reception desk was wearing a suit that cost more than everything I now owned.
His eyes were sharp and probing, lingering on the tattoo on my neck. “Mr. Weller, I presume.”
Something about him made me want to poke at him, to break through his composed exterior by causing a scene of some sort. He was clearly already judging me, and had I not been so eager to get back to my rabbit as quickly as possible, I might have dragged this out just to cause a little drama.
“Mr. Lorens has been expecting you.”
“I’m sure he has.”
“Hmm.” He pursed his lips, offering another judgmental once-over before he directed me to the elevators.
Harper’s penthouse was much larger than any apartment ever needed to be.
The air was warm, but the aesthetic was cold.
Dark gleaming floors and dark marble walls.
Even the black leather sofa looked hard and uncomfortable, and I wondered why someone with so much money would actively choose to live in a place with so little comfort.
Floor-to-ceiling windows took up one wall, offering a view of the city, but what really caught my attention were the glass panels that separated a wall length enclosure from the living room.
It’s inhabitant, a huge, bright yellow python, curled around itself, bronze eyes staring back at me.
The thing must have been fourteen feet long.
“You’re late.” Harper spoke, snapping my attention away from the snake. His arms were crossed, his clothing as dark as the rest of his apartment, and another much smaller snake coiled up his arm and around the back of his neck, this one as white as snow.
“I’m very busy, you know.” I offered his words back to him, enjoying the annoyed twitch of a well-manicured eyebrow.
“Are you forgetting this was a favor you specifically asked me for, Coyote?”
“Devil.”
“What?”
“It’s Devil now.”
“Of course it is.” Harper rolled his eyes. He stepped up to me, his presence feeling so much larger than the small body he existed within. “Here.”
He pulled a card from his pocket and slapped it—along with what I’d come here for—into my palm. Just holding it again brought me much-needed comfort. “How does it work?”
“Everything you need to do is on the card. Just download the app and follow the prompts.”
“I don’t have a smartphone.”
He huffed. “Of course you don’t. You know we’re in the twenty-first century, right? You’re asking me for stolen, experimental, top-of-the-line tracking technology when you don’t even have a smartphone?”
“I’ll get one. Just tell me how it works.”
Harper sighed, muttering something under his breath that sounded like “Neanderthal” before he continued.
“It’s a low-energy GPS module—no lights, no vibrations, no sounds.
Complete stealth technology. Pings its location every twelve hours, hence the need for the app, unless you’re expecting me to mark an X on a map every morning and send it to you by carrier pigeon. ”
“Anyone ever tell you that you’re a little dramatic?”
If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man, but Harper continued. “Even if the fluid is refilled, the modifications should be completely unnoticeable unless you’re measuring the internal chamber down to the millimeter.”
“The battery?”
“Like I said, it’s a prototype. I wouldn’t expect it to last more than a year max.”
I traced my thumb over the engravings as familiar to me as my own skin.
“You’re welcome.” He waved his hand at me dismissively. “Now go away.”