Chapter 9
Chapter
Nine
BLAIRE
Iwoke up to a strange smell and scratchy sheets. No way in Hell were these mine. I was never in my bed in the nightmare though, so none of this made sense. All I knew was that I definitely wasn’t in my bed, and this didn’t feel like a dream.
I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light around me. Definitely not my room. It was an absolute mess in here. A prickle of fear sparked in my chest. Whose bed was I in?
The night came flooding back to me in a rush of memories. The man breaking into my apartment. Hiding in the dumpster.
Showing up at Winder’s house.
Passing out.
Was this Winder’s bed?
I pressed my cold fingertips to my eyes, the rancid smell from the dumpster following. This was not how everything was supposed to go. I had a plan. A really good plan, at that. The worst part was not being able to pinpoint where I had gone wrong.
I guess I’d have to go way back for that, before my soul was more than just a thought, because I was beginning to think that’s where all the wrong started.
We just spent the rest of our lives making up for the mistakes built into the marrow of our bones.
Fuck, I smelled.
“Sorry, what was that?”
I yanked my head up, half-expecting to see someone covered in blood.
Winder stood in the doorway, and I couldn’t figure out if he was pissed at me, or if that was just his natural state.
Not for the first time, I was struck by the feeling of just how handsome he was, but also how dangerous he could be.
“This is your bed.” I grabbed the scratchy gray sheets, a flimsy armor. It wouldn’t do much. Besides, at the end of the day, I was the one who showed up here.
He raised a dark brow. “It is. But there weren't a lot of options of where to put you when you decided to pass out on my front yard. As much as I was certain your…aroma would scare anyone off, I wasn’t going to take any chances.”
There he was, acting like my protector again, even as he looked like he didn’t want to be near me. I sniffed at my shirt. “I’m sorry about that. Really. I didn’t want to come here, believe me. I just didn’t know where else to go.”
“So you said.” Winder crossed the room, sitting down on the bed. “You can explain to me exactly what happened, but I would appreciate it if you showered first.” He wrinkled his nose. “I already have to burn these sheets. I would’ve swapped your clothes, but I didn’t think you’d like that.”
The idea of Winder seeing me naked, vulnerable, and unconscious coiled in my stomach, a snake ready to strike.
“Sorry about your sheets, too. I’ll replace them.” My skin itched, and I realized how great a shower actually sounded.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not into silk sheets.” Getting to his feet, he cocked his head. “Come on. My bathroom is this way. We’ll get you cleaned up, and then you need to go home. You can’t be here.”
“So you keep saying.”
Home. I didn’t want to go back there. I rolled out of his bed, stepping around the piles of clothes and boxes piled everywhere. He opened a small door in the corner, and a compact bathroom lit up, spotless in comparison to his room.
“I’m sure it’s not much compared to what you’re used to, but the water is hot. I’ll try and find something clean for you to wear.” Winder twisted the tap in the tiny shower before facing me once more. “What made you even think to come here?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. “The last thing you said to me was that you were the only thing I had. And last night, it really felt like it.”
“Fair.” He ran his hand under the water. “You should be good. Lock the door behind me, and don’t open it for anyone, okay?”
Was this place really that dangerous? I didn’t feel any more nervous than I normally did in any given situation. I wasn’t sure if that said more about his house, or my general level of anxiety. Regardless, Winder left the bathroom, and I turned the small lock.
Finally alone, behind a locked door, I let myself crumble.
Even though locks didn’t guarantee safety, my shoulders sagged, and I cried quietly, the fear of everything catching up to me at last. I would give myself a minute of self-pity, and then I would straighten myself out.
Crying wasn’t going to fix anything or keep me safe.
I dropped my dumpster clothes in a pile, kicking them away from me. I never wanted to see them again.
Winder was right about one thing—the hot water was to die for.
I stood under the stream for as long as I could bear, letting the evening wash away from me, even as the small bite on my hand burned under the heat.
I wasn’t even sure what time it was, if it was still night, or how long I had been here.
Winder seemed set on kicking me out as soon as he could, which didn’t surprise me much.
I grabbed for the generic shampoo resting on the ledge, scrubbing it into my hair.
Something was bothering me about Winder, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It was like I was grasping at the flimsy edges of a dream. I wasn’t afraid of him, so that wasn’t it. He didn’t make me uncomfortable. Mad, absolutely. But uncomfortable, no.
Staying in the shower as long as I could, I finally got out, switching off the handle.
There was a small shelf with towels, and I grabbed one, standing in the steam.
I could barely see my hand in front of my face, let alone my reflection in the mirror.
I kind of liked it that way. It was easier to pretend when I didn’t have to see my own face.
A knock on the door made me jump. “Hello?”
“It’s Winder. I’ve found you some clothes.”
His raspy voice squeezed my chest in a way I didn’t want to think about right now. Grabbing the towel tightly around me, I unlocked the door, and peeked outside.
Winder stood in his bedroom, holding a pile of dark clothing. I didn’t miss the way his gaze dropped along my towel-clad body through the crack in the door. Heat rose to my cheeks, and I expected him to look away. Instead, he met my eyes straight on as he offered the pile to me. “Here.”
“Thanks,” I murmured. I reached out and snatched the clothes, slamming the door as quickly as I could. I needed to cut whatever electric wire stretched between Winder and myself, before either of us were burned.
“They’ll probably be too big, but it’s better than nothing.” Winder’s quiet voice carried through the door.
I pulled up the sweatpants he had given me, tightening the waistband as far as I could, and they were still massive. Winder was a solid foot taller than me, so it wasn’t entirely shocking.
“No, I appreciate it. Thank you.” I tugged the sweatshirt on next, the soft material falling past my thighs.
The fog still coated the mirror, a small miracle. I gave my dumpster clothes one last searing look, then opened the door.
Winder fought back a smile when he saw me.
“What?” I pulled at the oversized sweatshirt. “Not my look?”
“Black doesn’t suit you.” His face grew somber. “You ready to talk about what happened?”
I wandered past him, sitting down on the edge of his bed. It was strange how comfortable I felt around him. “Someone broke into my apartment.”
Winder crossed his arms, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips. “A man?”
“Yes. I ran down the fire escape and whoever it was chased me. I outran him, and hid in a dumpster until he left. Hence the horrific smell. But I was kind of out of options and—”
Winder held up his hand, stopping my ramble. “Did you see who it was?”
I shook my head, droplets of water splashing my face from my wet hair. “No. In fact, at first, I thought it might be you.”
“Me?” His eyes narrowed. “Why would you think I wanted to break into your apartment?”
“I don’t know. You didn’t seem impressed when I showed up earlier.” My heart pinged when I remembered the rejection from his attitude. Winder didn’t like me, that much was clear.
“Just because I tell you to go home doesn’t mean I want to hurt you, Blaire,” he scoffed.
I froze. “You know my name.” It hit me all at once. That was what had bothered me in the shower. When I got to his house, right before I fainted, he called me by my name. How did he know my name?
He paused as well, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “I do.”
“How?” I was already looking around the room for my escape plan, depending on how he responded. He might’ve had height and weight on me, but I was quick.
“The barista called your name out when you ordered your coffee.”
Plausible? Sure. But something about it didn’t sit right. Air filled my lungs again. I was just on edge, which was fair considering I was in a near-stranger’s bed.
Winder watched me closely, for something I couldn’t exactly pinpoint. “Are you comfortable going home tonight?”
If I closed my eyes, and imagined I wasn’t here, I was fairly certain I could fall asleep just listening to his voice.
I only had to pretend he wasn’t saying things about me going back to my apartment.
I didn’t want to stay here, in his scratchy bed, with what sounded like a party going on outside the door, but going home terrified me more than I wanted to admit.
“Is it always this loud?” I nodded toward the door, at the people sounding like they were having the time of their lives just outside.
“Mostly. Until they all crash in a few hours.” He cocked his head. “I can come with you and make sure your locks are as secure as possible, and in the morning you can call the police.”
I didn’t want to go back there. I didn’t want to call the police.
I squeezed my wrist. “It just all seems too coincidental, you know? First the dreams, then you telling me I wasn’t safe, and then someone breaks into my house?
It’s just all happening too close together for me to process.
” I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing lightly on my eyelids with the tips of my fingers.
“Before all this, I couldn’t remember a single one of my dreams, and now I’m waking up thinking I’m covered in blood. ”