Chapter 21 #2
I don’t sleep. I just lie there. Holding her. Watching the ceiling. Trying to understand what just happened.
My chest feels different. Not tight. Full. Like something that was missing clicked into place and now everything fits.
I’ve never felt... this.
Like her breathing in my arms matters more than my own. Like leaving would be the worst mistake I could make.
I want to wrap myself around her and never let go.
After sex, I’m usually already planning my exit. Getting dressed while they’re still catching their breath. Gone before the awkward morning conversation.
But I want to be here when she wakes up. Want to see her face in the morning light. Want to make her coffee and make her eggs and hear her laugh at my terrible cooking.
Fuck. I’m in love with her.
The realization doesn’t come as a shock. It settles into place. Something that’s been true for a while, just waiting for me to notice.
I’m in love with Stevie Reeves.
The witness I was supposed to protect. The woman who makes me want to be better. Who just fell asleep in my arms like I’m someone worth trusting.
I’m so fucked. But holding her in the dark, listening to her breathe, I can’t bring myself to care.
Tomorrow I’ll figure out the rest. The Sal problem. The Dario situation. The impossible tangle of my life.
Tonight, I just want this. Her. Us.
I close my eyes and fall asleep with her heart beating against mine.
Morning comes too fast.
Gray light through the curtains. Her body warm against mine. The smell of her shampoo and sex and something I’m already thinking of as home.
She’s still asleep.
I don’t move. Don’t want to wake her. Just watch.
The way her lashes fan across her cheeks. The tiny furrow between her brows like she’s concentrating on something even in sleep. The curve of her lips, still slightly swollen from kissing.
She’s beautiful. She’s mine.
No. Not mine. Not just mine. There’s Dario. Maybe Saul. She doesn’t belong to me.
But lying here watching her sleep, I can pretend.
She stirs. Stretches. Her eyes flutter open.
“Hey,” she mumbles. Voice rough. Adorable.
“Hey.”
“You stayed.”
“I promised.”
She smiles. Slow and sleepy and just for me.
I kiss her. Morning breath and all. She makes a soft sound against my mouth.
“What time is it?” she asks when I pull back.
“Early. You should sleep more.”
“Mmm.” She stretches again. Her body sliding against mine in ways that are extremely distracting. “I’m hungry.”
“I can make eggs.”
“You’ll burn them.”
“Probably.” I kiss her nose. “I’ll make them anyway.”
She laughs. That bright sound I’m addicted to.
I force myself out of bed. Find my boxers on the floor. Pull them on while she watches with an expression that’s somewhere between appreciative and predatory.
“Enjoying the view?”
“Very much.” She sits up. The sheet falls to her waist. I have to look away or I’m getting back in that bed and neither of us will eat for hours. “Can I wear your shirt?”
“My shirt?”
She points to where I dropped it last night. “That one.”
“Yeah.” My voice comes out rough. “Yeah, you can wear it.”
She slides out of bed. Naked. Gorgeous. Completely unselfconscious. Picks up my shirt. Pulls it over her head.
It swallows her. Falls to mid-thigh. The sleeves past her hands.
She looks up at me. “What?”
I’m staring. I know I’m staring. Can’t help it. “You’re.” I shake my head. “Nothing. Coffee?”
“Coffee.”
I burn the eggs. She eats them anyway.
We sit at her tiny kitchen table, her in my shirt, me in just boxers, sharing burnt eggs and good coffee and something that feels terrifyingly like domesticity.
“I could get used to this,” she says.
“Burnt eggs?”
“You. Here. In the mornings.” She reaches across the table. Takes my hand. “This.”
My throat tightens. “Yeah,” I manage. “Me too.”
We don’t talk about the complications. The danger. The fact that Sal is still looking for her and I’m still lying to the family and everything about this situation is impossible.
We sit there. Holding hands. Eating burnt eggs. Being happy.
Eventually, I have to leave. I’ve already stayed too long. Sal will notice if I disappear completely.
“I’ll come back tonight,” I tell her at the door. “After I handle some things.”
“Things?”
“Work things. Nothing you need to worry about.”
She looks at me. Those observant eyes that miss nothing.
“Be careful,” she says quietly.
“Always am.”
“Liar.” But she’s smiling. “You’re reckless and we both know it.”
“Only with things that matter.”
I kiss her. Soft. Lingering. The kind of kiss that promises more.
“Tonight,” I say against her lips.
“Tonight.”
I make myself leave. Step out into the morning sun. Take the stairs.
The parking lot is quiet. Early enough that most people haven’t left for work yet.
I’m halfway to my car when something prickles at the back of my neck. That instinct that’s kept me alive this long. The feeling of being watched.
I scan the lot. Casual. Don’t want to look like I’m looking.
Nothing obvious. A few cars. Someone loading groceries into a sedan a few rows over. Normal morning stuff.
But the feeling doesn’t go away.
I get in my car. Check the mirrors.
Nothing.
Probably paranoid. Probably just the stress of the Sal situation making me jumpy.
I pull out of the lot. Take a circuitous route, doubling back twice, watching for tails.
Nothing.
By the time I’m on the highway, the feeling has faded. Replaced by something else.
The memory of her in my shirt. Her laugh in the kitchen. The way she said I could get used to this like it was the simplest thing in the world.
I could get used to it too. I want to get used to it.
For the first time in my life, I want a future. A real one. With her.
I’ll figure out the rest. Handle Sal. Keep her safe. Find a way to make this work.
Because she’s worth it. She’s worth everything.
I’ll lie. I’ll kill. I’ll burn this whole city down before I let anyone take her from me.