Chapter 13
Rhys
Istalk home, jaw aching and a shoulder possibly out of alignment. My flat is dim, lit only by the orange wash from city lights through the windows.
I head right into my kitchen and stare at the plants in their blue and white pots. Their leaves are vibrant, the soil is moist, and the containers are glossy and dust-free, because Fallon probably wiped them down the last time she broke in here.
I drag a chair over and drop into it. Elbows on my knees, I catch my breath from the hit gone wrong.
“Anyone up for a conversation?” I mutter to the greenery, my voice wrecked and hollow.
They stare back, all silent and judgmental. I wait. Some part of me actually expects them to say something.
Nothing.
I snort and rake a hand down my face. “Figures. She gets the talkative ones.”
Then I see it, a simple shift in one plant’s leaves. The smell of soil drifts up from the pot, earthy, alive.
Maybe this one is listening…
“Okay,” I say to the basil plant, feeling like a lunatic.
“I’m in a bit of danger now. Someone who is clearly adept at fighting got away.
Saw my face. And is probably coming for me.
When he does, he won’t knock politely. He might even burn down this whole building and everyone in it. Just to get to me.”
If I’m in trouble, and Fallon is telling anyone who will listen that I’m her boyfriend, then she’s in trouble.
What a mess.
“Any advice?” I pick up the plant Fallon told me is the loud one.
The plant does nothing.
I wait another beat.
Still nothing.
“Thanks for the help.” I drag a hand through my hair, half-laughing, half-ready to put my fist through the wall. “She says you talk back.”
The plant keeps being a plant.
I grab the pot and bring it closer. “Can you just give me a sign if I should keep her close or push her away. How the fuck can I keep her safe when this life I chose keeps putting a target on my back?”
Nothing but the hum of my refrigerator breaks the silence.
I shove the basil plant back onto the stand and pace around the living room with an ice pack pressed to my side until the pain in my ribs from tonight’s fight goes away.
I’ve never cared about collateral damage before.
Never cared if someone saw me covered in blood, never cared if someone got caught in the crossfire. I didn’t have the luxury to care.
But tonight, something gnaws at me.
Not guilt. Not fear.
Her. My her. Not the ‘her’ Ares and the so-called stranger selling drugs exchanged about.
Fallon’s wide hazel eyes and soft smile flash at me.
For the first time all night, my heartbeat slows. But it doesn’t help. Because all I can see is Fallon caught in the crossfire, that smile of hers slipping away.
If anyone sees her near me… If they think she matters, they’ll use her to get to me. Or kill her just to make me want to die alongside her.
My chest tightens until it feels like there’s a fist around my heart.
If Fallon gets even a scratch because of me, I might not survive that guilt.
No. I can’t let that happen.
No matter what it costs me. All my free time for one, because every night, I have to look for this man and kill him before he figures out where I live.
Even if it means locking out Fallon completely.
Even if it means burning down whatever the hell is growing between us before it can explode into something I can’t control.