Chapter 46
FORTY-SIX
Blakely
My voice was hoarse as the band bowed and made their way off stage after their second encore. The crowd lingered, though, eager to get one more glimpse at the band.
My eyes remained on the stage, my palms tender from clapping, and my cheeks hurting from smiling so much. Excitement coursed through me as I finally turned to find Devon behind me.
The beat of the music still hummed over my skin, and I felt high from it. And the way Devon was gazing at me.
“I’m going to be counting down the days until I can see them again,” I said, my voice a little louder than necessary as the house lights came up. Every sound was slightly muffled by the loud music, but that was the least of my worries.
“I’ll buy tickets the second they go on sale,” Devon promised, and I leaned forward to kiss him.
He laughed against my mouth and clasped my cheek with one of his hands. The way I fell into the kiss, fell into him, was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. Like I couldn’t help but give myself over completely to his touch and the taste of him .
A low hum vibrated through him and tickled my lips. “Fuck, you taste so good. Like the sweetest cherries.” He groaned, and I sighed. “But somehow, I think your pussy might be even sweeter.”
“Devon,” I gasped and licked my lips as I drew back. His eyes held a heady type of lust, and I knew mine had to look the same. “Let’s go.”
Looking at the man I loved, I couldn’t think of anything I wanted more than to be in bed with him right then, deriving pleasure from one another and drawing on the deep, carnal connection we shared.
The hesitance in my statement the first time I said it wasn’t for lack of confidence but for fear of his reaction. The decision to say it right then, in the middle of the metal concert, was an impulsive one, although I’d been considering those three little words for longer than I could admit to myself.
But I didn’t want to be placated or convinced otherwise. The last thing I wanted to hear was that “ it’s too soon ” or that I’m only saying it because I’m scared. That it was a trauma response or something similar.
All those fears disappeared the moment the confident, definitive words left his lips.
He knew he loved me, too. And I could feel it like it was a real, physical thing pulsing between us.
Devon stepped back and retrieved our empty cups from the table as I grabbed my bag from where it hung over one of the stools. Fishing out my phone, I turned it on to check the time.
But I stopped. My movements halted, and everything around me disappeared. The only thing in my world was that little phone screen.
It nearly slipped from my hands as I stared at the AirDrop request from an unknown number. But it was the preview of the photo along with it that quieted all my thoughts and made it unbearably difficult to find my next breath.
It took several seconds for my brain to catch up, and in those few seconds, Devon noticed and came to stand beside me. I thought he might be saying something, but I couldn’t hear him. My mind couldn’t comprehend more than what was directly in front of me.
Before I could think about it, I surprised myself and pressed “accept,” and dozens of photos flooded in. I gasped, and the shock of it made me lose my grip. But Devon was there to catch both me and my phone.
His arm looped around my waist, and his reaction was quick enough to grab my phone before it shattered against the hard floor. I grabbed the table and clung to him to remain standing as he stared down at my phone.
I glanced over and jerked my attention away after I noticed a few of the photos. He scrolled through quickly because it didn’t take a long look to see exactly what the photos were: they were a collection of photos of me sleeping.
Some were taken through the sliding glass door in my bedroom, others were taken only feet, inches , away from me.
Cautiously, I swiveled my head back and forth, scanning the few lingering concertgoers and trying to find a face I recognized. But it was useless. I’d never seen his face. I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup—literally—and would never be able to.
Even the few times I’d heard his voice weren’t enough to make a difference. His voice sounded like every other man’s voice I’d heard.
I’d never seen him, I’d barely heard him; fuck, I’d never even smelled him.
We were never going to find him. But he’d somehow found me.
And I’d made it easy for him—going back to the place where it all began. I’d probably walked right into his trap. He’d probably known that would happen.
I could feel myself descending into a black hole of panic, my thoughts spiraling in a direction I didn’t know I could come back from if? —
“Sweetheart.” Devon’s deep voice cut through the dark fog, although it still sat heavy at the back of my mind. Like the remnants of a horrible nightmare that you couldn’t quite shake. “Let’s go.”
“We have to—we have to find him,” I stuttered out as he laced his fingers through mine.
“I know,” he said. “We’re going to go downstairs and call the detective in Colorado Springs.”
All I could manage was a slow nod. I tried to get my eyes to focus on his face, but I couldn’t make out much more than the freckles and concern straining his features.
A warm hand cupped my cheek, and his thumb brushed over my cheekbone. He stepped forward and tilted my chin higher. Hazel eyes implored me.
“One percent, remember? I’ve got the other ninety-nine.”
One percent, I thought. I could do that. One percent.
It was well past two in the morning when we climbed back into Devon’s car outside of the police station.
I was simultaneously exhausted and energized, which was a lethal combination. Devon opened the door for me and then rounded the front to the driver’s side while I buckled and tried to keep my eyes open and stop fidgeting.
Devon slipped into his seat and stared out the windshield for a few seconds before he reached for the ignition. We hadn’t said anything to one another since we left the detective’s office, but the second the engine turned over, I had to speak up.
“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” I admitted quickly and quietly.
I stared straight down at my intertwined hands but watched Devon’s movements stop out of the corner of my eye.
“I don’t think I’d be able to let you out of my sight.” I took a deep breath and smiled softly at the relief flooding over me. “You can stay with me. ”
“The officers are supposed to be driving past my place every hour, so…”
Devon shook his head. “I’ll tell them to reroute to my house.” No words were needed. I merely glanced over at Devon, and he saw in my eyes my answer. I didn’t want to be anywhere near my house right now. It felt violated and contaminated. “Let’s go get Tato.”
He pulled out onto the street and reached over to settle his hand on my thigh. I covered it with my own and let my head fall back onto the headrest. The thirty-minute drive back to my house was mostly silent, both of us lost in thought and trying to wrap our heads around the events of the evening.
It felt like a lifetime ago that Devon had ushered me downstairs at the concert venue where he’d called Detective Wilcrest and explained the situation. He’d been just as stunned as we were, but we all agreed he was likely long gone. He instructed us to head to the police station and that he’d make a call to Austin PD before we got there.
When we did, there was a detective waiting for us. Detective Baker, under Detective Wilcrest’s direction, took my phone in as evidence and took our statements. It was two and a half hours later before we were able to leave with little in the way of a lead.
He’d covered his tracks just like he always had.
Detective Baker was nice enough, and he agreed to help Detective Wilcrest with the investigation. But I wasn’t holding my breath that they’d find anything.
They’d also agreed to send a police car past my house every hour during the night, however, they didn’t have the resources to have a full-time cop parked outside of my house. We were both exhausted, but Devon had argued these were the exact circumstances that warranted something more than the occasional drive-by.
And although he’d tried, his argument hadn’t made a difference.
“Sweetheart, we’re here. ”
I must have zoned out, because one second, we were pulling out onto the street outside of the police station, and the next we were parked in front of my duplex.
“Hmm…we are,” I said, unbuckling and retrieving my keys from my purse. I pushed the door open and hopped down, glancing at my house and despising the way I hesitated when I considered heading toward the front door. But Devon was right there a second later, shutting the car door and resting a reassuring hand on my lower back.
Ready to get it over with, I unlocked the door and pushed it open. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I could feel myself holding my breath as I took in the living room. It was exactly as I’d left it. The kitchen light was still on, and the couch pillows were on the floor from where Tato had knocked them off.
It still smelled and looked the same, but something was off. It felt completely different.
It was tainted just with the thought that he’d witnessed me there when I thought I was alone. My semblance of privacy had been just that: imaginary.
Trying to ignore the pang in my chest, I started my search for Tato. If he wasn’t in the living room, there was only one other place he’d likely be sleeping, and sure enough, he was passed out on the end of my bed, curled up on the dark purple blanket slung over the corner.
I walked over to him and carefully blew on his snout. His nose started working, and his eyes blinked open. He stretched, and that pang in my heart tightened. I felt awful for leaving him alone for so long, but he didn’t seem to care. He hopped up and eagerly reached to lick my face.
His tail wagged, and I gave him extra love and scratches.
“That’s sweet how you wake him up,” Devon said from where he was leaning against the doorframe watching us.
“He gets scared otherwise, and he’s had a shitty enough life. He doesn’t deserve to be scared another second. Even if it is just a second.” I kissed Tato’s forehead and turned to Devon. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to get my stuff together. Do you want to pack up my laptop on the kitchen table?”
“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, and I couldn’t help but smile a little when Tato decided to follow Devon out of the room.
After he trotted off, I went straight to my closet and grabbed a duffel. Staying at Devon’s was likely not the most well-thought-out idea, but it was the best he or I could come up with in the moment. And I found myself throwing more clothes in the bag than I would realistically need for one night. Because I had to consider the possibility that I wouldn’t want to come back there after only one night. Whether I stayed at Devon’s or found another option, I couldn’t imagine I’d want to spend any significant amount of time there anytime soon.
My duffel busting at the seams, I was in the bathroom throwing toiletries into a separate, smaller bag when Devon called from the kitchen, “Hey, Blake?” His voice was slow and cautious, immediately making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
Unsure what I was going to find, I peeked around the corner and down the hallway. Devon wasn’t looking at me, though. His hands were braced on the kitchen counter, and he was staring down at it like it had personally offended him.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I walked toward him. The object he was staring at slowly came into focus. And that was when it hit me.
Peanut butter cookies wrapped in cellophane. They’d been pushed back behind my coffeemaker earlier in the week and completely forgotten. The words written on the cardstock attached to it echoed through my mind like they had the first time I’d heard them. Spoken by a deep, nondescript voice while chained to the floor in a dark, damp basement.
Tormented hazel eyes met mine, and all I could do was shake my head. My chin quivered, but, fuck, I was done crying. All my emotions were so stripped back, I was entirely numb.
Like Devon read my mind, he stood to his full height and retrieved his phone from his back pocket. “I’ll take a picture and send it to both detectives, but any questions they have can wait until tomorrow. Are you ready to go?”
Devon was the type of person you wanted on your side in a crisis. He was confident and level-headed; he clearly saw the way forward and easily made the hard decisions.
“Thank you,” I said instead of answering his questions. I considered what else I might say, but he seemed to fully grasp my appreciation with just those two simple words.
A soft, crooked smile touched his lips, and I swore my entire body sighed when he touched those lips to mine. “Always, sweetheart. Always.”