20. Mya
20
“I should sweep the property.” He cleared his voice, then stepped back, forcing me to drop my hands to my sides. Moment broken. Connection we both clearly needed severed in the space of seconds.
“My father’s at his girlfriend’s place today. He took Scrappy. They’ll be back tomorrow, so I should just check things out once more with him gone.”
Ah, your father is playing Cupid. Giving us space. Also, a girlfriend, huh? “Maybe shoes and a shirt first.” Was that really the best I could come up with?
He nodded and started for the door, but then patted it twice instead of opening it up. “You up for getting out of here for a bit?” He faced me. “There’s a place . . .”
That thing called hope danced in my heart at his words, at the softening of his expression and how he was staring at me. Only-girl-in-the-world kind of look. His world, at least. And the only “place” I wanted to be. So yeah, he could take me wherever he wanted to go. “I’d love that.”
“Wear something comfortable. Grab a hoodie from my dresser in case you get cold, though. It’s hot out, but the shade . . .”
More hope twisted and turned into something beautiful in my mind, and I clung to it like it was the sun after enduring ten straight gloomy New York winter days.
“Give me thirty.” He spun his finger in the air, simulating the blades of a helo, something I’d seen him do a hundred times before while operating together. “Let me just walk the grounds first, then shower.”
“I’ll do the same.” I smiled. “Well, the wash-up part.” Maybe I’d pack us some food, too. He’d probably worked up an appetite after training. I didn’t want to think about why he was practicing Krav Maga, though. Not with him preparing to take me somewhere. If I was lucky, talking would be involved.
Once he was gone, I quickly returned to the house, walking as if the ground was on fire. The gravelly terrain really wasn’t kind to bare feet, and Oliver had silently dealt with this the whole way back yesterday.
I hadn’t seen any bandages when he was practicing Krav Maga, looking like a gorgeous Olympian god. So, I hoped that meant his feet weren’t as roughed up as I’d expected they’d be.
I hurriedly showered, towel-dried my hair a bit before twisting it into a side-braid, then put on some makeup. I didn’t have time to do a full beat like normal, but with the dark circles beneath my eyes, something had to be done so I looked alive.
A few minutes later, I was back in Oliver’s room, digging through the shopping bag of clothes. There was hideous, and then there was just-above-a-garbage-bag bad, and that’s what he purchased. I opted to put on the only other clothes I’d packed. Light-wash jeans with holes in the knees from American Eagle and a white tee with capped sleeves from Aritzia. My two go-to places for clothes these days. Well, BT, the days before my life had been flipped upside down.
I opened his top dresser drawer, then moved on to the next when I didn’t find a hoodie as he’d recommended. What I hadn’t expected to find were Tucker’s dog tags. Come to think of it, I hadn’t realized he hadn’t been wearing them that morning, and maybe not even last night.
Part of me wanted to take them back out, but he put them there for a reason, so I wouldn’t press as to why. I made a mental note to ask him later, then continued my search for the hoodie.
Finding a plain gray one that’d be way too big for me, I tossed it onto the bed and powered on my burner phone. It wasn’t like the cheap flip phones often used in movies, but the latest iPhone. Just not my iPhone. And just as importantly, untraceable.
The dog tags had reminded me of something I should’ve done yesterday, but I’d been thrown off from my confrontation with Oliver. I sat on the bed to text Gwen.
Me: Could you let Julia know I’m with Oliver? You may have already reached out, but you know she’s been worried about him, too.
Me: Also, any updates from the team?
With the cabin so small, I could hear the shower water running from down the hall, which I assumed meant Oliver’s check of the property had gone well.
Gwen: Good morning. I let Julia know yesterday. She gave me the same lecture Mason did about you going off on your own. Then when I explained you had an entourage you weren’t aware of, courtesy of Carter, she calmed down. She’s happy you’re with him but would love for him to reach out if he’s up for it.
Now that I knew Oliver had been in touch with Carter, I had to believe he’d asked about Julia on their calls as well. Anyone connected to our team was now at risk with the Sorens, and presumably all of The Collective, knowing our identities. Thankfully, Finn could more than keep Julia safe, which Oliver would know.
Gwen: As for the team, no sign of the Sorens in Zurich yet. Carter may wind up buying the hotel for nothing.
Gwen: Although, it’d be kind of cool if we had our own hotel in Europe, right?
Gwen: Kidding. Kind of tongue out emoji>
Gwen: How are YOU? How’d you bed emoji>? Was there still fireworks emoji>?
Leave it to Gwen to make me smile and distract me from my heavy thoughts with her messages and emojis. Yeah, there’s fireworks all right.
Me: Thank you. I’m not ready to press Oliver on talking to anyone yet (just me), but hopefully he’ll reach out eventually.
Me: Falcon owning The Sapphire? I mean . . . maybe? thinking emoji>
Me: Yesterday was rocky. Last night was rough. (Didn’t sleep at all.) This morning has me feeling a bit hopeful, though. And fireworks? You could say that.
She didn’t need to know about Oliver’s nightmares, or the fact he was training to go hand-to-hand with Hugo Soren in some deathmatch fighting ring, either. I also skipped over the Mason conversation. That still stung, and I didn’t want to repeat what Oliver had said to me.
At the door creaking open, I set the phone on my lap, focused on the towel snug around his hips before I took in the scar at his side.
Stabbed. Because of me.
“News from the team?” Why was he remaining fixed in the doorway wearing only that towel and a mischievous look on his face?
“They’re still at the hotel, hoping for the Sorens to show.” I really didn’t want to kill any potential progress we may have made by talking about Hugo. “Gwen let Julia know you’re safe and we’re together.”
His gaze immediately flicked to the dresser, his thoughts undoubtedly darting to the dog tags, just as mine had.
“My dad’s why,” he said, almost defensively, as he finally entered the room. “He’s why I took off Tucker’s tags.” He opened the dresser drawer and removed the chain, looping it over his neck. “He’s gone today, though.” Facing me, sporting a grimace, he added, “He blames himself for Tucker’s death. Thinks if he’d been around, maybe Tucker wouldn’t have . . .”
Ohh. I ignored the sounds of a text coming through and set aside the phone to stand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Hands to his hips, he tilted his head, eyes on the floor instead of where I wanted them to be—on me. “I should get dressed if we want to head out soon.”
“Right. Okay.” I picked up my phone from his bed along with the hoodie. “Okay if I pack us some food?”
Still avoiding eye contact, he answered with a touch of hesitation. “Sure, that’d be great.”
I nodded, despite the fact he wasn’t looking at me, then left him alone, closing the door behind me. I checked my last message en route to the living room.
Gwen: Everything will be okay. It has to be. You’ve got this. Keep me posted.
Me: Will do. Thank you. (For everything.)
I powered off the phone and tossed it and the hoodie on the couch, then went into the kitchen and busied myself with raiding the fridge and cabinets for food.
I packed as much meat and cheese onto Oliver’s sandwich as possible, hoping food would help subdue any lingering grouchiness.
With everything prepared, I tossed our brunch into a reusable linen shopping bag. When I turned around, my breath hitched in surprise.
Oliver was hanging out in the doorway, casually watching me. He had on dark denim jeans, black Nikes, and a black tee, with a backward ball cap hiding his unruly hair. He looked like he’d jumped straight out of Savanna’s book, mimicking how she’d described her main male lead in the last scene I’d read.
He was squinting even though there was no window behind me. No light pouring in around me. “We either need to walk the mile to the truck, or take the bike.”
“Your dad fixed it?” I asked as he stepped inside the kitchen and took the bag from me. The little brush of our hands reminded me of Thailand, how we’d stolen small moments like that together whenever we’d been in public.
“Yeah, just a few screws loose.” He shrugged and tossed out, “I can relate.”
I’d spent months dodging human touch, and now I had to fight like hell not to reach for this man at every turn.
I followed him to the door, catching a whiff of his cologne and le sighed in my head at the comforting, sexy smell.
Oliver kept the door open with his good shoulder, patiently waiting for me as I sat on the bench just inside the cabin and laced up my white Adidas sneakers.
I stood, making up my mind. “Let’s take the bike.”
“You sure?”
I peeked around him to locate the bike in the distance. “It’s a long walk, and it makes sense to ride. Besides, I’m more than okay with sitting on it with you.” No doubt in my mind, and that was a welcoming feeling I wanted to take full advantage of.
His eyes remained fixed on my face for a few beats longer before he quietly stepped aside, allowing me to walk outside. “Where’s the hoodie?”
“Oh, right.” I snapped my fingers. “On the couch.”
“I’ll get it. One second.”
“I probably don’t need my phone, so just leave it here.”
“You sure? You know how you like to stuff my pockets with a million things so you don’t have to carry a purse.” The tug of his lips into an almost-smile drew me forward a step.
“I’d rather not weigh you down any more than you are.” Too much double-meaning in those words, but out they came.
He was squinting again, and with the sun on the other side of the cabin, it definitely wasn’t a burden to his eyes. He wanted to say something, I could feel it, but he was holding back.
“Okay,” he said instead, the lines in his forehead relaxing.
I went ahead over to the bike parked near a stack of chopped wood, and Oliver caught up with me a few seconds later.
He must’ve stuffed everything into my Jansport, because that was all he was now holding.
I took the backpack from him, knowing if he wore it, I’d have a hard time hanging on to him on the back of the bike.
“One minute.” He disappeared into the shed and returned with a helmet. “Here.”
“I don’t think that’s nec?—”
“Don’t argue with me.” He waited for me to strap on the backpack before shoving the helmet into my hands.
“What about you?”
“We only have one, and I’m good.” He threw his leg over the bike and started up the engine. “You sure you can do this?”
Right, I’m still just standing here. “Yeah.” Helmet on and strapped, I parked myself behind him, remembered Doctor Logan’s words about breath work in case I got nervous, then looped my arms around Oliver’s body, drawing myself against him. He shuddered at my touch. I guess we were both affected. I couldn’t help but feel a bit nostalgic and murmured, “Do the thing.”
“Mya,” he gritted out.
“Please.” I laced my fingers together on his chest. “Do it.”
His shoulders dropped a bit, but he relented. Shifting the bike forward, he braked in one quick movement, forcing me even more up close and personal, just like I wanted.
Comforted by this position, I settled against him, relaxing as he drove. He kept the speed to a minimum, doubtfully to keep his hat from flying off and more for safety and my benefit. The one-mile drive still went too fast, and once we stopped, I wasn’t prepared to let go of him. It took him gently patting my hands to force me to untangle myself from our locked position.
When we were both standing by the bike, he helped me remove the helmet. I couldn’t help but think back to our last day together in Thailand before he’d been captured and stabbed.
Just like that day, his fingers skirted the line of my neck, caressing my skin near my earlobe as he undid the strap of the helmet. There was no visor, so his eyes never left mine with each movement as he undid it. Was he thinking back to that day now, too?
Clearing his throat, he announced, “The truck is over there.” With the helmet off, he took the backpack from me, then motioned to a Chevy beneath an overhang clearly designed to blend in with nature.
I mindlessly followed him over, and he opened the door for me, offering me his hand to help me climb up into the truck. I took it without worry or hesitation, and his skin felt warm and amazing against mine. I relished in the feeling, taking longer than necessary to get into the passenger seat.
Once he was behind the wheel and had pulled out onto a road, I remembered to buckle up, my nerves catching up with me, and finally asked, “So, where are you taking me, anyway?”