Chapter 4
. . .
Silas
Vesper’s apartment isn’t remotely on my route back home from the rink, and she knows it.
The silence in my truck has spoken a thousand words on the entire twenty-minute drive to her place.
“I could’ve taken the bus,” Vesper points out, unclipping her seat belt as I pull into a visitor space in the underground garage.
I kill the engine because I’m not planning on leaving right away.
“I’m not letting you take public transport when I have a warm truck and nowhere to be in a hurry. A detour on my way home isn’t a big problem.”
Vesper stares straight through the windshield of my black GMC Sierra, eyes growing wider every second. I follow her line of vision and land on the back of a beaten-up blue Toyota Rav4.
Fuck.
Kane’s car.
“Were you expecting him?” I ask her, interpreting her shocked reaction that she wasn’t.
Vesper slowly shakes her head, fear creeping into her expression.
“He’s either sitting in his car, waiting for me to arrive home, or …” She shakes her head again. “No. There’s no way he accessed my apartment floor. Drew recently changed the code to keep him out.”
I gaze out of the driver’s window, the parking lot gates only just starting to close. It’s clear how he drove in here—probably tailed another car and took advantage of how fucking slow the gates were.
“You need to go,” Vesper whispers quietly. “If Kane sees you here, then he’ll lose his shit.”
“How many times has this happened, Ves?” I probe, ignoring her request for me to leave. Like hell am I going anywhere now.
Besides, if Kane is sitting in his car and we can’t see him, he sure as shit will recognize my private plate, so me leaving now would be pointless.
Her reluctance to answer my question is evident from the way she twists her lips. Stressed.
“I don’t know. Too many times to count.”
The only reason why I’m still sitting in my truck and not tearing across the asphalt toward Kane’s car is sitting next to me. I reach across the center section and take Vesper’s hand in mine. She doesn’t flinch at the contact, soft fingers wrapping around mine.
She stares down at our connection. “Can you walk me to my apartment?”
I don’t question why she’s suddenly less concerned about Kane seeing me. Instead, I throw my driver’s door open, releasing her hand and rounding the hood.
When I pull her car door open, Vesper slides down from the truck, her small frame more obvious when she’s standing in front of me.
I reach in and grab her bag from the floorboard. She takes it from me, looping it over her shoulder.
It feels like the longest time as we approach Kane’s car. Any second, I expect his door to fly open and for him to be in my face, going off the deep end for driving Vesper home.
In the end, nothing happens because he’s sleeping in the driver’s seat, a bottle of bourbon resting between his thighs.
Vesper flattens her left palm on the hood as she observes him through the windshield.
What the hell did this guy do to her that she’s not telling me about?
“He likely tried the elevator, and when the code didn’t work, he figured he’d just sit and wait for me to arrive home,” she whispers, although I’m not sure if she’s speaking to herself or to me.
Stepping toward Vesper, I interlace our fingers and lead her toward the elevator, having already made the decision that tonight, I’m not leaving her alone at all.
Two minutes later, we’re walking into her apartment, and she’s closing the door behind her, sliding the dead bolt across the doorjamb.
More silence descends between us as she drops her bag onto the white console table in the entryway and heads straight into the open-plan living space.
I follow her and stand in the center of the room, watching Vesper rummage through the refrigerator.
“Are you hungry?”
I shake my head even though she can’t see me with hers buried in the refrigerator.
“Can we talk?” I say, moving toward her and closing the refrigerator door once she’s pulled a jar of black olives out and set them on the white kitchen island.
It’s not lost on me that she hasn’t asked me to leave again, and I sense it’s because she doesn’t want to be alone. Not with Kane drunk and only a few floors below.
She slides onto a kitchen stool on one side of the island, and I take the other.
“Is the only reason why you’re offering me food because you don’t want to be alone?” I ask, opting to get straight to the point.
Vesper doesn’t talk in riddles, and neither do I.
She pulls the lid off the olives and pops one into her mouth.
The apartment is barely lit; only the under-cabinet lighting offers a soft glow in an otherwise dark space.
Light catches Vesper’s big blue eyes as she looks at me. It feels like something has shifted, and she’s considering opening up to me more than she has before, and I wonder if that has to do with what we witnessed downstairs. The fear on her face when she saw Kane was too obvious to mask.
“When he drinks, it’s the worst.”
An icy-cold shiver creeps down my spine, making my voice shake as I say, “How does it get worse?”
She eats another olive. “Kane’s behavior. What he will say to me, the things he’ll smash up when he’s mad. There’s no reasoning with him when he’s drunk, especially when he’s been hitting the bourbon.”
I know it’s really important to keep calm. If I don’t, Vesper will close off and stop talking. Still, it’s really fucking hard to keep my voice even, body language relaxed.
“He never hit me, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
I rest my palms on the cold marble countertop. The chill against my skin contrasts sharply with the fire singeing my veins. “You and I both know his behavior is still abuse, Ves.”
She nods once, swallowing hard even though she’s already finished her last olive. “I’m an idiot for going back to him.”
Vesper lifts her eyes to mine, and they’re glossy. Fuck … I need to wrap this girl in my arms and never let her go.
“I’m going to say this as clearly and kindly as I can,” I begin, causing her to swallow again. “Not once have I ever questioned your strength, character, or loyalty.”
I offer her a warm smile, and she reciprocates.
Christ, she’s beautiful.
“Just because I believe you’re worth way more than him doesn’t mean that I don’t respect the hell out of you for trying to see the good in someone.”
Vesper’s shoulders relax, and she pushes the jar of olives away from her.
“I know we haven’t spent that much one-on-one time together, so you might not have noticed this about me, but once I make my mind up about something, I won’t change it.
With Kane, I’m disappointed with myself for taking so long to see the light. ”
I want to tell her that I already know all of this. After almost three years of silently observing someone, you get really good at getting to know them, even if they only reveal the tiniest pieces of themselves.
“I know, Ves,” I reassure her. “I can tell, this time, you’re done, and I would be a liar to deny how relieved I am that you are.”
Vesper pulls the olives toward her and eats another.
“Do you want me to go downstairs and speak to Kane?” I offer.
Her attention snaps to me, horror written right across her face.
“No. Absolutely not. And anyway …” She waves a hand in front of her. “By the time he wakes up, your truck won’t be there. When he drinks bourbon and passes out, it’s usually for a good three to four hours. The hood of his car was still warm, so he hadn’t been parked for long.”
It’s disturbing that Vesper even thought to check his hood so she could gauge how much time we had.
I try not to dwell on how often she’s done that.
“I won’t be leaving anytime soon.”
“Why?”
Sliding off my stool, I round the island and take a seat next to her, pinching an olive from the jar. “Because I’m not into leaving a woman in a vulnerable position while her abusive ex-boyfriend sleeps off the booze only three floors below.”
I expect her to protest, although she doesn’t. Well, not in the way I thought she would.
“That’s a shame because I was hoping to kick you out ASAP so I could spend the night in peace.”
I smirk, delighted to hear a playful edge return to her voice. “Oh, yeah? What did you plan to do once I left?”
She tips her chin at the blue corner couch in the center of the living room. Between that and the large flat-screen TV, set on the opposite wall, sits a white wooden coffee table with two drawers on either side.
“What I do most nights. It’s not particularly special, but it does make me happy.”
I quirk a brow, intrigued.
She chuckles. “Haul my king-size duvet onto the couch and spend the next couple of hours coloring.”
I rear back, eyeing her carefully. Maybe I don’t know everything about this woman. “Coloring?”
Vesper nods once and climbs down from the stool, making her way over to the coffee table. She opens the drawer nearest to her and pulls out a tabloid-sized coloring book and a deep red pencil case.
She closes the drawer and approaches me, flicking through the book.
Settling on a page, she slides the book toward me. I’m really fucking impressed. This isn’t coloring like I used to know it as a kid; this is freaking art.
It’s almost like the underwater scene staring back at me is real; the way Vesper has blended colors goes way beyond the usual challenge of aiming to stay between the lines.
She turns the page to an Italian landscape with an old Fiat 500 driving down a cobbled road, houses on either side draped in flowers and sunshine.
This image is more detailed than the last. The skill on display accurately imitates light reflecting off the car and is really incredible.
“Each drawing takes me several hours to complete. Oftentimes, I fall asleep in front of a movie with a pencil in one hand and this book resting in my lap.”
The need to kiss her has never been stronger, nor has the thump of my heart.
“Do you have a second coloring book?” I ask.
Vesper snorts a laugh. “Are you being serious right now?”
I don’t bother answering, sliding off the stool and heading toward her bedroom. If she kept the same room after Drew moved out, then it’s the one at the end of the hallway.
Vesper’s bed is neatly made—or it was before I rip the duvet from the mattress and carry it through to the living room, throwing it over the back of the couch.
I turn to face her as she gazes at me, open-mouthed, from where she hasn’t moved from next to the island.
“Take a seat, Knockout. I need to witness the master at work.”