Chapter 15
Fifteen
Ru
I should be planning. Getting my affairs in order. Putting the house on the market even though the thought makes my heart hurt. Diverting money to an international account. Researching plane tickets, selecting routes, buying supplies.
Instead, I’m watching Sully sleep.
We bought ourselves some time, yes, but it will run out. That’s what time does. And our safety hinges on getting as far away as possible from II Tech.
Sully snores softly. Low, even breaths with a quiet little snuffle on each exhale. A lock of auburn hair hangs over his face, moving slightly with every breath. Looks like it would tickle. Twenty-Four sleeps curled up against his neck, and Socks is stretched across his legs.
They’re all on the sofa, draped over a small mountain of pillows and nestled in a pile of blankets. No amount of convincing could get him to move to a proper bed. “Too comfy,” he said. “Wanna sleep where you kissed me.”
So I left him to his slumber sometime in the early morning hours and gone to my own bed. Once there, I laid awake thinking of those earnest kisses, the weight of him against me, his warm hands on my skin.
Needless to say, it took a while to fall asleep, and when I woke, the thoughts rushed back along with a bit of a hangover. Water and an aspirin fixed the latter, but nothing on earth can fix the former.
All I think of is Sully. His vulnerability. His confidence. His clear-eyed willingness to forgive.
The way he begged—not with words but with needy little whimpers, with the not-so-subtle press and retreat of his hips, with grabby hands and pliant lips—for more than I wanted to give.
No, that’s not the right word.
I wanted to give him everything.
I wanted to chase away every bad memory and fill him with sensual touches, with desperate desire, with a certain hard and aching part of my own body, but it wasn’t the right time. Too much too soon, both of us drunk, and he deserves better.
I sit in a rocking chair by the hearth, computer in my lap, procrastinating. If I watch Sully sleep long enough, maybe the real world will fade away. We can live safe and happy in this borrowed cottage. Not a fear in the world.
But I know that’s not true.
And there’s so much to do.
I crack open a browser and type “cheap international flights and destinations.” As the words appear in the search bar, a new problem slams into my conscious.
Fuck. Sully has no ID. He’s totally undocumented.
And that’s only one of our problems. Can he survive an overnight flight? It’ll be dawn anywhere we land.
Fuck.
I type in, “how to procure a fake ID” instead, meanwhile realizing we aren’t too far from Montreal. If we drove across the border and took an evening flight west—
“Whatcha doin’?” Sully’s sleep muffled voice draws my attention back to him. He hasn’t bothered to sit up, just vaguely turned toward me and lifted his head. He blinks and wipes his face. Twenty-Four is doing the same. They’re dreadfully cute together.
“Nothing important.” I didn’t feel like working anyway. “How do you feel?”
“Hungry,” he says with no hesitation as he sits up the rest of the way, dislodging a grumpy Socks. She jumps down and saunters off.
“I can make you something.”
He frowns. “I need blood first. Don’t watch.”
“Um, okay.” I try to hide my discomfort. It’s not his fault he needs blood to survive, but it’s not like I’ll be able to get more. Once his supply is gone, it’s gone. And then what?
I’d rather not think of that.
He goes to the fridge and I keep my nose in my laptop, browsing discreet ads meant for underage kids to get fake IDs for the usual reasons. But I can’t ignore the sounds. The thick plastic of the blood bag, the cabinets opening and closing, the brief splash of liquid pouring into a cup.
Get over it, Martin. It’s not a big deal.
He’s finished and rinsing the cup out before I get through the first page of ads, saving the ones that look promising. Assuming it’s safe to look up, I do, and find him grabbing the frosting from the fridge and a spoon from the drawer.
“Is that what you’re having for breakfast? Blood and frosting?”
“It’s after noon, so no.” His grin draws my gaze to his mouth. His mouth that I spent a lot of time kissing. “It’s what I’m having for lunch. Want some?”
“No thanks.” A thought occurs. “How come I didn’t feel your fangs last night?”
He blinks. “I retracted them.”
“You can do that?”
“Clearly. But I don’t like to.” He runs his tongue along his teeth. “Feels weird.”
What else don’t I know about him? “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t want to freak you out, or risk cutting your tongue or something. I’m surprised you let me kiss you at all. I thought you were afraid of me.”
“What? No.”
He plops onto the couch and arches his brows pointedly.
“Okay, maybe a little. At first. But not anymore. And definitely not after last night.” As I say it, I realize it’s true. All of it. I was afraid, and I’m not now. The thought is comforting.
“I’m glad to hear that.” He draws a spoonful of icing into his mouth and his lids flutter closed in delight. “I can’t believe you don’t want any.”
“I thought I’d make a sandwich.” Like a normal person. “I’ll make you one too. You should eat more than just sugar after how much we drank last night.”
He shrugs. “I feel fine.”
“No hangover?”
“Not that I can tell. Wait, do you feel bad?”
“I’m okay now after a gallon of water, a couple aspirin, coffee, and breakfast, but when I woke up? Ouch. Like ice picks in my skull.”
“Yikes. Guess I’m glad I’m not human.” He digs into the container for more frosting.
I close my laptop. “Don’t wreck your appetite. I’m making you some real food.”
We spend the rest of the day collectively ignoring our problems. A silent agreement to procrastinate. Anything but reality.
I teach him gin rummy. He insists I pick a movie since he’s done all the choosing up until now. I tell him about the Lord of the Rings trilogy, about which he grows more and more excited, and we binge watch the first two.
Now it’s dark, and I have a feeling Sully’s got a case of cabin fever.
“What do you say we take a break from TV and go outside for a while? Want to learn how to drive?”
He glances up from where he’s been scratching Socks behind the ears. I see the question ripple through him, surprise at first, then something bright and almost disbelieving.
“Really? Right now?”
“Sure, why not? You got something better to do?”
He parts his lips and gives me a slow scan from head to toe. The hungry look in his eyes is back even though we’ve already had dinner. I shiver, but his expression softens, teasing, “I might be able to think of something else, yes, but I would also like to learn to drive.”
I grab jackets for the both of us and give him one. “Put on your shoes, Romeo.”
Outside, the air smells of damp leaves and incoming snow. I take a mental note to check my weather app. If we’re going to be snowed in soon, Sully will need more frosting. He’s almost out.
The gray Honda waits like the reliable old girl she is as I toss Sully the keys. He catches them with the reflexes of a ninja. “You want me to drive first?”
“How else will you learn? Don’t worry, it’s not complicated. It’s just a car, not a test.”
“Everything’s a test,” he mumbles, but unlocks the doors and slides into the driver’s seat.
I open the dinged-up passenger door and settle in. He put his hands on the wheel and breathes. “Okay. What do I do?”
This is going to be fun. I talk him through adjusting his seat, using the mirrors, the seatbelt, the pedals, and then show him how to start the car. The engine coughs and settles into a low rumble.
“The brake is on the left. It’s your best friend. The gas is on the right, use with caution.”
He nods solemnly. “Brakes, good. Gas, caution. Got it.” His hands tighten on the wheel like it might grow legs and bolt.
“Easy, Sully, you’ve got this. You control the steering wheel, it doesn’t control you.”
We start slow, down the long gravel driveway under the canopy of pines. The car lurches once, twice. He winces.
“Sorry.”
I laugh. “Don’t apologize to me, apologize to the car.”
He laughs too, and the ride smooths out. He’s tentative, but that’s not terrible with a new driver.
We reach the narrow road Zoe’s cabin sits off of. It’s a rural two-lane road with very little traffic. A good place to learn to drive. I have him signal, stop, and look both ways.
“Okay, we’re going to turn right, away from town. You’re good, just ease into it.”
He does. Not enough gas, then too much, then a hard brake, then just enough gas to steady us out.
“Good, good, just like that. You can go a little faster when you’re ready.”
“Okay.” He stares at the road, focused. His posture is rigid, but on his face, a slow smile spreads. “I’m doing it.”
“You totally are.”
We drive. Not fast. Not far. The road curves and dips and Sully handles each obstacle nicely. He asks questions. “What does that light mean? Why does the steering wheel feel heavy here? What happens when it rains?”
“Nothing bad, you just adjust. Maybe go slower. There are wipers to keep your windshield clear.”
“Oh. I like that.”
A truck approaches from the opposite direction, and he tenses.
“You’re okay. Just stay in your lane, and he’ll stay in his.”
“Right.”
We take a winding route in a big circle, using all backroads. Sully learns to handle other cars on the road without flinching. He signals too early once, then too late. I tease him. He teases me back, cheeks pink, confidence growing.
I love seeing him like this. Learning new skills. He soaks up the lesson like a sponge, if sponges were eager and infinitely curious.
“You’re doing great,” I say when he nails a turn.
“Yeah?” He glances at me briefly, eyes hopeful.
“Yeah.”
We pull into a small clearing, and I have him stop. He laughs. “I did it. I drove a car.”
“Like a champ. You want to head back, or do you feel like driving to town for a frosting resupply?”
He casts me a sincere look. “You think I’m ready to drive in town?”
“Yes. You’re a quick learner. But if you’ve had enough, or if you’d be more comfortable, I can take over.”
He considers this. “I’ll drive there and then you drive us home.”
“Sounds good.”
We get back on the road, and I relay the directions. He drives smoother this time, like it’s not his first day at all. I watch as he relaxes into it, still focused, but less tense. It’s incredible. To see him thrive. To know I helped. What an honor.
We make it to the store without incident. He parks a little crooked, but safe, and since he seems to enjoy my teasing, I let him have it.
“You’re not even a little straight, are you?”
“Ha! Nope, guess not.”
We smile at each other. My chest warms in that pleasant way his company always inspires in me.
Sully links our arms as we walk through the parking lot toward the store. “Thank you for this.”
I bump our shoulders. “Anytime.”