Chapter 23
23
PAIGE
When I heard a police car drive down my street with another one not far behind, sirens blaring, I sank down into the corner of my couch. I had a baseball bat on the couch beside me, which seemed ridiculous, but when I tried to put it into the closet, I had a panic attack that felt like a heart attack, so I brought it back out. I had no idea what I would do if Paul Lewis came into my house, but I wouldn’t be unarmed this time.
I glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. It was nine thirty on a Saturday night, and I was wearing sweats, praying for the night to end and the sun to come up. How did I get here? And how the hell did I get back to who I was before I agreed to that damn blind date?
The doorbell rang, and I jolted off the couch. Panic desperately tried to set in, but I fought it back, reminding myself that a criminal wouldn’t ring the doorbell. Taking a few deep breaths, I assumed it was probably Lanie and made my way to the front door. My breath caught when I peered through the peephole and saw Cole on the other side. My shoulders relaxed instantly, and I didn’t have to be a therapist to understand what that meant. He made me feel safe. It didn’t make any sense, but I didn’t care. I felt better when he was around, and that was all that mattered right now.
Pulling open the door about halfway, I studied him. “Cole? What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
Clearing my throat, I stepped back, waited for him to come inside, then shut and locked the door behind him. When I stepped around him, I saw his eyes were locked on the bat on the couch and his jaw was clenched.
Ignoring that, I moved until I was standing in front of him. His eyes flicked to me, and he smiled softly, but it seemed forced. His expression was serious, and suddenly, it occurred to me that he could be here to fire me. It had only been two days, but I was already making mistakes, and there were times I couldn’t seem to get a message right. He had to call the customer back and double-check the information they’d given me. I knew that had to be bothersome, but I was getting better. I was much worse when I was at Dave’s.
“Are you here to fire me?” I blurted out.
He shook his head. “No. I’m here with an offer.”
“An offer?”
“Well, that was what it was supposed to be until I saw you’re sleeping on your couch with a fucking bat.”
I glanced at the couch and realized it was fairly obvious that I slept there, considering I had a lot of pillows and blankets spread out. “It’s temporary.”
“Come live with me.”
My eyes widened, and I must’ve looked ridiculous, but of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them. “Live with you?”
“Yeah. You’ve been to my apartment, so you know it has two bedrooms. My sisters came over today and fixed up the extra bedroom so it’s nicer.”
“Live with you?” I repeated.
“I work crazy fucking hours, but the only way to get into the apartment is through the garage, so no one is getting upstairs without me knowing it. Even if I’m not up there, you’ll be safe.”
“I can’t just move in with you, Cole,” I answered even though the idea of feeling safe again was pushing me to just say yes.
“You can.” He took a few steps toward me and stopped. “I have the room, and to be honest, you need to.” He swallowed hard. “It’s obvious you’re not sleeping or eating. You have headaches all the time. Someone should be there in case you need something, but instead, you’re here where it’s dangerous, and you’re completely alone.”
I glanced toward the window. “It’s not dangerous.”
“I passed two cop cars on my way and saw a drug deal going down on the corner.” He took another step until he could lay his hands on my shoulders. “If you don’t stay with me for yourself, do it for everyone else. Everyone's worried about you and your safety.”
“Including you?” I asked quietly.
“Especially me,” he answered and exhaled heavily. “Please.”
“This is crazy.” I dropped my head and ran my hand over my forehead. “I can’t believe I’m going to agree to this.”
When I lifted my head, he grinned, and the worry lines on his forehead smoothed out. “Let’s get you packed.”
“Okay.”
I turned away from him even though I didn’t want to. I walked up the stairs and into my room but then stopped, a little overwhelmed by where to start.
“Where’s your suitcase?”
Turning, I faced him and saw nothing but understanding and patience in his expression. He just seemed to know when I was overwhelmed and would break it down so I could focus on one thing at a time and not the whole picture. He did the same thing the two days I worked for him last week, and it made those two days so much easier than the three days I was at Dave’s.
“In the closet,” I answered confidently.
He went to the closet, lifted it from the shelf, then placed it on the bed before unzipping it. “Why don’t you pack enough for the week? We can come back next weekend and pack more.”
“Okay.” I nodded because that seemed easier. In my mind, I thought about what I would need to wear at work and slowly found everything, placing it in the suitcase, but realized I was missing something. “I’m forgetting something.”
“Pajamas and um…” My eyes lifted to meet his. “Bras and shit.”
He almost looked embarrassed. His eyes wouldn’t meet mine, which was so unlike Cole. He was so confident and strong, but mentioning my bras made him seem more fallible. A giggle rose to my throat at the uncomfortable look on his face, and it surprised me. I hadn’t laughed for weeks, and it felt good when it started. His eyes dropped to mine, and for a moment, he looked surprised, but then he grinned and just watched me while I giggled for a ridiculously long time.
When I finally felt like I had a modicum of control, a smile still lingered on my lips. “That felt good.”
“Yeah,” he replied, but he continued to watch me, and I couldn’t read his expression anymore.
Moving to the dresser, I grabbed bras and panties, added them to the suitcase, and then my pajamas. I skirted past him and went to the bathroom, grabbing everything I used daily, which wasn’t as much as it used to be. I hadn’t even put on makeup in weeks, so I didn’t bother to pack it.
After I added my bathroom things, I stared into the suitcase and surveyed what I had. When I was satisfied, I zipped it closed.
“Anything else?”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Like what?”
“Anything you do for fun?”
“Like a hobby?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
I frowned. “I don’t really have any hobbies.”
He studied me for a minute before speaking. “Me neither. I work all the time.”
“That makes us both sound a little pathetic, doesn’t it?”
He smiled. “Maybe just a little.” Moving past me, he grabbed my suitcase, and I followed him down the stairs. “Do you want to take your car?”
I didn’t. I had zero interest in driving, which was the opposite of who I was only a few weeks ago. But it made my head hurt and made me feel vulnerable. The truth was I didn’t have much energy after work, so it wasn’t like I would need it to go anywhere.
My eyes snapped to his when he spoke. “Why don’t we leave it here for now? If you want it, I’ll bring you to pick it up.”
I nodded and grabbed my purse, phone, and charger from the kitchen table. At the door, I pulled my keys from inside my purse, followed him outside, and locked it behind me.
He yanked open the back door of his truck and put my suitcase in before pulling open the passenger door for me. I was standing on my street, and I wasn’t scared. That was a first for me in a while, and it felt good. I knew that had everything to do with the man beside me.
We were both in his truck and heading toward the garage when I felt like I wanted to explain what was happening to me. He got it, that was obvious, but I didn’t know if he knew the extent of it. If I was going to work for him and temporarily live with him, I thought he deserved to know what was going on and how much I appreciated his help.
“Thank you,” I said into the quiet of the truck.
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you know what I’m thanking you for?”
“No, not really.” I could see his small grin when I looked at the side of his face. “Just felt like the right thing to say next.”
I smiled softly at his very honest answer, but then my smile dropped, and I stared out the passenger window. “I get overwhelmed. It frustrates me because I can’t make a decision when I feel that way.”
“What does the doctor say about that?”
“That with the severity of my concussion, it’s normal and will go away in time,” I replied. “He said my brain needs time to heal. For some people, that could take weeks. Others, maybe years.”
He reached across the seat and grabbed my hand when he stopped at a red light. “Don’t rush it. You’ll get back to who you were.”
“I hope so.” I met his stare and saw sympathy. When I couldn’t hold it anymore, I turned back to face the windshield. “It’s green.”
He squeezed my hand before dropping it and accelerated through the light, heading toward his apartment.
And mine now, for at least a little while.