Chapter 8
Raiden
Andi’s quiet on the drive back to my apartment, but I give her the space she needs to process everything that’s transpired over the past twelve hours.
It’s a lot to take in, and we both know, without giving voice to it, that this brief reprieve won’t last very long.
She’ll be called in for questioning, and as much as I want to step in and do the hard parts for her, I can’t.
It’s a draining process that likely won’t conclude for several weeks, but Andi possesses a strength most people can only dream of having.
I swing by a sandwich shop to grab us some dinner, making a mental note to put together a grocery list. Food isn’t all she needs, but it’s a good place to start.
When we arrive at the old firehouse, the sun has started to set, making me grateful for the slight shield that dusk will offer us.
The identities of Veritas’ victims won’t be revealed through official channels, but it’s only a matter of time before the journalists do what they do best and start digging.
It’s inevitable, but I’d like to keep Andi’s whereabouts off their radar for as long as possible.
“Here we are,” I say with a cringe, shattering the bubble of silence.
The outside world isn’t going to wait, specifically the two men who are undoubtedly vying for a peek at the woman we’re all enamored with.
Aside from a few strained smiles, Andi remains quiet as I guide her through the makeshift courtyard.
My fingers tremble as I attempt to unlock the front door, worried that I’ll have forgotten something and give away the ruse of this being a random apartment.
“The place is yours for as long as you need it.” Andi gazes around the open-concept living room as I step aside, taking in the exposed brick and ductwork before her eyes travel downward, noting the polished concrete floors.
I’ve barely had time to unpack properly, much less shop, so there’s not much in the way of furniture.
She shivers, drawing my attention to the canvas-like sack she’s wearing.
“Come with me,” I state, gently grabbing her elbow.
Steering us towards my bedroom, I cross my fingers and hope like hell I didn’t forget to stow away anything personal.
Thankfully, it’s just as empty as I remember leaving it.
I head for the closet, leaving Andi by the foot of the bed as I rummage through the dresser for some sweatpants and a T-shirt.
I only left a few items in hopes of selling the bullshit I plan to spin so she’ll agree to stay here without feeling like she’s imposing.
“They won’t be a perfect fit, but these should do for now.
I’ll bring you better options tomorrow.”
She takes the offered clothing, sparing it a cursory glance before asking, “Whose place is this?” Well, fuck.
I bite my lip in my worry, wondering if I should reconsider, but I want Andi safe more than I want to secure my place as her favorite person.
And when I’m not around, Dayton and Col will gladly keep an eye out for anything amiss.
“It’s a crash pad for the precinct,” I answer distractedly, unable to look her in the eye, so I busy myself searching for a pen and paper.
I’ve never been good at lying, and as much as it pains me to do so, I switch the topic to something else before Andi can pry any further.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume you no longer have the burner in your possession? ” I question, my brow cocked wryly.
“No, sorry,” Andi replies, an apologetic grimace twisting her features. “I left it hidden at the compound."
“It’s no big deal.” I wave my hand dismissively. “I’ll bring you a new one. Can you think of anything else you’re in immediate need of?”
“Shoes?”
My gaze falls to her feet, my gut twisting as her toes curl against the icy floor.
How the hell have I been so fucking oblivious that I haven’t noticed she’s only wearing a pair of foam flip-flops the hospital must have given her?
Through the sterile hallways of the emergency department, inside the janky elevator, across the chewed-up pavement of the parking lot, and up half a dozen stairs to reach the door of my apartment.
Not once did it occur to me to check her over and ensure she was dressed appropriately.
I could chalk it up to being so fucking relieved we found her alive that everything else took a backseat, but there’s no justification for my oversight.
Since meeting Andi, I’ve learned a lot about myself, namely how ignorant I am of anything outside of my immediate orbit.
It’s a major fault I wasn’t aware of, but if nothing else, I vow to come out the other side of this a better man.
“Right,” I choke out, my throat tightening with shame.
I turn towards the kitchen, the sound of Andi’s steps following behind me a second later.
Scribbling my number on the first thing I find, I hand her the empty envelope and say, “Here’s my number, in case you need to reach me before I can make it back here tomorrow.
Dayton and Colsen live just across the courtyard and won’t mind if you need to borrow one of their phones in the meantime.
” I purposely exclude Briggs, hoping to avoid the two of them meeting altogether.
“As in your neighbors, Colsen and Dayton?” Andi questions, a single brow arched in disbelief.
Shit. How in the hell did I overlook such a glaring hole in my ridiculous story?
I grip the back of my neck, my mind struggling to come up with a plausible answer.
After several awkward seconds pass with the two of us staring at one another, I finally formulate a response, though it’s hardly believable.
“Uh, yeah,” I stumble out. “As I said, the precinct uses this place as a go-between. It’s basically a second home to me.
” I spin around, unable to look Andi in the eye as I dig myself a deeper hole with yet another lie.
I can only hope that when the truth comes to light, she’ll be understanding of my reasons.
“Okay.” Andi nods, her chest rising on a deep inhale.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done, Raiden.
I wouldn’t be standing here right now if I’d never crashed into you with that crate of apples.
” She gives me a strained smile, but the last thing I deserve is her thanks.
Not when I’m being purposely deceitful about something so insignificant.
I just can’t stomach the thought of her declining my offer to stay here if she knew the place was mine.
“I like to think there’s a reason for the things we’re forced to go through.
That somehow, someway, our paths–regardless of how shitty–are destined to lead us to the exact place we’re meant to be.
Whether it’s wishful thinking or simply bullshit, it sure beats the opposite notion.
” She smiles at my introspective babble, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow sometime?”
“Sounds good,” Andi replies. For just a second, I contemplate wrapping my arms around her and asking if she’s okay, or worse, begging her to let me stay.
Because the idea of walking out of here, leaving her alone when I know the rush of emotions she’s experienced over the past twenty-four hours is eventually going to reach a tipping point, makes my insides recoil in protest. My lips part, and I barely manage to bite back the idiotic question, because of course she isn’t okay, and likely won’t be for quite some time.
But what Andi doesn’t need is an overbearing asshole forcing his way in.
As close as we’ve grown these past seven months, it’s different now.
Our relationship has been confined to hushed phone conversations, underscored by the very real fear of her being discovered at any moment.
We’re navigating entirely new territory, and as eager as I am to see how the two of us fit when we’re not precariously balancing a life-or-death situation, I’m patient enough to know that good things come to those who wait.
So I dip my chin, forcing my body into motion despite the raging protest my heart is staging.
As the door closes behind me, my shoulders draw tight with tension.
It’s been damn near a decade since Andi was truly left to her own devices.
It’d be impossible for me to comprehend the thoughts plaguing her mind right now–the fear of being alone battling with elation for her newfound freedom.
As much as it pains me to walk away, I can only imagine how peaceful it’ll be for Andi to finally let her guard down.
Noise across the courtyard snags my attention, and a second later Colsen pops out from where he’s been hiding behind an overgrown hydrangea bush.
He’s drenched in sweat, his clothes covered in a fine sheen of dirt, with his hard hat in hand.
I shake my head in feigned frustration and press a finger to my lips, gesturing behind me at the closed door of my apartment.
He nods in understanding, pointing towards their side of the firehouse.
Once inside, he tosses his things on an entry table and turns to face me.
“How is she? Does she need anything? Is she hungry?” he questions in rapid-fire succession, brushing a hand through his hair. A flurry of sawdust cascades to the floor, resting beside the steel-toed boots he made quick work of kicking off.
“As good as she can be, pretty much everything, and I honestly don’t know, but I bought her dinner anyway,” I answer in order. “Did you catch the press conference?”
“Yep.” Colsen beelines for the fridge, cracking open a bottle of water and eagerly chugging it down.
“That’s it? You don’t have a million questions you’re dying to ask?” I quirk an eyebrow, resting my weight against the wall.
“Oh, I do. But something tells me you won’t be answering them, so what’s the point in asking?” he responds, his lips curved in a knowing smirk.