33. Noah - September
THIRTY-THREE
Noah - September
BUTTERFLIES - ABE PARKER
Dorian stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a relaxed smile that never failed to send butterflies fluttering in my stomach as I walked in.
“Hi,” I said, taking in his casual attire—a T-shirt that hugged his shoulders just right and black joggers that managed to be loose but still cling perfectly to his muscular thighs.
He was effortlessly handsome, and my pace quickened as I walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a water from the fridge, our fingers brushing for a moment. It was the kind of touch that was electric.
I nodded in thanks. “Long day?”
“Yeah,” he said, pushing off the counter and moving toward the living room. “You?”
“Same,” I replied, trying to keep my tone light as I followed him into the cozy, dimly lit living room. “With the wedding planning, I’ve been on the phone constantly trying to get everything figured out.”
He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that made me smile. “I take it she finally let you take something off her hands?”
“Yeah, I’m in charge of the cake and flowers,” I said, moving to sit on the couch while he settled in next to me.
“I’m surprised she let you have that much.”
“Me too,” I said, shaking my head, laughing along with him. I shifted to fit into his side, and he wrapped his arm behind me, nuzzling me closer.
“So, what’s it like being the maid of honor?” he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.
“No disasters yet.”
His gaze lingered on me, and I felt my cheeks heat under his attention. “Dotty’s lucky to have you,” he said as he placed a kiss on the top of my head.
I smiled, turning to face him. “No need for flattery, Dr. James,” I replied, nudging him with my foot.
“Just stating the obvious,” Dorian said, a sinful glint in his eye. “But if you keep calling me doctor like that, you might make my dick hard.”
I chuckled in response. “I might be okay with that.”
His phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen.
“It’s Colt,” he said, glancing at his phone. I motioned for him to take it, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. “Hey, man. What’s up?” he answered, his voice casual, but I could already sense a shift in the air.
I couldn’t make out the words on the other end, but Dorian’s face fell, and my heart pounded in response. I moved nervously on the couch, my thoughts spiraling.
Is it John? What if it’s bad news? What if it’s about another victim? What if he’s continuing to drag me into it? How do I play into this stupid game of his?
I hadn’t been entirely able to shake the anxiety that had settled in my body ever since John vanished. I pushed it aside for the sake of trying to start over. A new chapter in a new town. A new job and new coworkers and new friends.
But he was still out there, a dark specter haunting my thoughts as I waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Not good. Where?” Dorian’s brow furrowed, and I leaned in closer. The pause seemed like an eternity, stretching my anxiety thin. “Okay, thanks.” His tone was clipped, and my palms grew clammy. “Yeah, sounds good. I’ll let her know. Bye.”
As he hung up, Dorian ran a hand through his hair, his shoulders tense.
I straightened up on the couch. “What is it?”
“Another victim,” he said.
The words seemed to echo in the silence. I felt the world tilt beneath me, a pit of dread forming in my stomach, and a bitter taste surged in the back of my throat. The intensity in his eyes eased as he looked at me. He opened his arms and motioned for me to join him.
I moved to him, but all I could hear was the whooshing sound in my ears, drowning out everything else.
Each time there was another victim, I thought about her.
Was she a mom? A sister? An aunt? Someone’s best friend?
I thought about her life, what she did for a living, how she spent her free time. Who would miss her.
All because someone vile and evil decided her life wasn’t worth it. It disgusted me, thinking about how I let that very person into my life for years. I forced myself to take a deep breath.
“Where?” I asked.
He shook his head, but the concern etched onto his face didn’t reassure me. “Not far from here. Northern California. They found her body this morning.”
“What did he leave behind?” I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.
He hesitated but then ultimately spoke. “She had a scar.”
“Just one?” I asked.
“Yeah…”
“Above her brow? Right here?” I said, touching the scar on my brow I rarely even thought of.
“Yes.”
Bile rose in my throat at the thought of it all. “Thanks for letting me know,” I said, trying to keep my composure.
“We will figure this out together,” he said, nuzzling his chin in my hair.
“I think I should head home.”
“Stay,” he pleaded, tugging me closer, his body pressed against mine. “Just for a little while. I can throw something on, and we can sit and watch. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”
“Okay,” I relented.
We nestled into each other, my head resting on his shoulder as he scrolled through the channels until he found something to watch, like we always did.
He was both comforting and dangerous, and I didn’t know how much longer we could tiptoe around the truth.
For now, this was enough. I was content to be here with him, the world outside forgotten. I could almost convince myself that this was how it was meant to be—that we were two souls intertwined in this dance.
I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the room wrap around me, and I silently hoped that this feeling would last just a little longer.