Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THORA
“Oh, come on. One date,” Blair practically begs the next day as we walk into a small clothing boutique.
She hasn’t said much about Anton, but I know she knows something happened, that whatever this was between us is over. And now she’s doing everything she can to keep my mind off him.
Her next brilliant idea? A double date with Brayden and his best friend.
Obviously, I know nothing is going to happen with him, but a part of me wonders if maybe saying yes would be good for me. I need to get out of the house, and it’s not like I’ll be alone with him. Blair will be there.
She bumps her hip against mine. “Just say yes. I can tell you want to.”
My lips twitch as I glance over at her. “You can tell, huh?”
“Yes.” She grins. “I promise he’s a nice guy. He’s also literally dying to take you out.”
I blow out an exasperated breath, heading toward a rack of summer dresses. “Fine. One date. That’s it.”
“Victory!” She throws both arms in the air, and all I can do is laugh.
When she pulls out her phone and starts typing, I ask, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Telling the poor man you finally said yes.”
I press my fingers to my temple. “You don’t waste any time, do you?”
“We don’t have forever, and you’ve got to get laid.”
“Blair!” I whisper, glancing around the store just as an older woman gives us a disapproving look.
She slips the phone back into her handbag, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
“So when is this date happening?” I lift up a light pink skater dress and hold it against myself in the full-length mirror.
“Tomorrow night.”
I turn toward her. “What? That soon?”
“Yeah. Why not?” She scrunches her face like the answer should be obvious. “I’m sick of seeing you all pitiful.”
When I try to argue, she lifts her hand to stop me.
“Don’t you dare feed me some bullshit. I know what I see. So tomorrow, we’re going to get you all dolled up, put on your reddest lipstick, and post a bunch of pictures so he who shall not be named can eat his heart out.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Okay. Fine.” Her hazel eyes twinkle with mischief.
I regard her with open suspicion. “Whatever you have up your sleeve, don’t.”
She presses a palm to her chest, putting on the worst innocent face I’ve ever seen. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her lips pinch before she turns and heads for another rack of dresses. I don’t know what she’s up to, but I don’t like it.
The last thing I need is Anton finding out about this date and deciding to do something about it.
ANTON
She doesn’t make it difficult to break into her place. The lock is easy to pick, just like every other time I’ve done it.
I don’t even know why the hell I came. Maybe I just need to be near her in the only way I can. I’ve been watching her for the past week, and she barely goes anywhere alone, like she knows I’ll be there if she does.
Moving through the foyer, I stop at the photo of her on the side table, the same one I’ve seen too many times before. I pick it up and stare at her face, my thumb dragging over the glass and tracing the shape of her smile.
A curse grinds past my teeth as my hand closes around the frame. I should get the hell out of here. Instead, I set the photo down and head upstairs.
Her faint scent is still there, caught in the sheets and the air, wrapping around me the second I step into her bedroom. I remain in the middle of the room and let it sink into me, wanting to be buried in it. There’s a bottle of perfume on the dresser, and I pick it up, bringing it to my nose.
My eyes fall shut, and she’s there again. In my bed. In my arms. Looking at me like I’m some knight in shining armor when I’m nothing but the monster hiding in her closet.
When I open my eyes, the rage comes back so fast, it nearly takes me with it. I set the bottle down with enough force to rattle the dresser, my skin stretched over bones that suddenly feel too large for my body.
Then I turn toward her bed and fury tears through me all over again. The hippo I gave her sits on the pillow, left behind like it didn’t mean shit.
“Blyat!” My fist hits the wall, leaving a dent behind.
I cross the room and pick up the damn thing, its one good eye staring back at me, and of course it smells like her too. Everything in this blyatski room is her.
Maybe that’s my punishment. Maybe it’s what I deserve. To suffer.
Lowering myself onto the bed, I pull her pillow against my face while clutching the hippo to my chest.
I should get out of here and keep protecting her from a distance. Instead, I do something stupid. I lie down on her bed, slide the pillow beneath my head, and tuck the hippo against my chest while I stare at the ceiling and breathe her in.
When I close my eyes, I see her. Her fingertips tracing my scars. The tenderness in her eyes when she looked at me like I was something more than the weapon my father created.
I’d do anything to go back to the man I was before her. Before I knew wanting someone could feel this close to pain.
With a growl, I pull out my phone and scroll through her messages. She hasn’t mentioned me once. Not to Blair or anyone else.
Luckily, the day I saw her with Rue, I was able to clone her phone. Too bad I haven’t been able to listen to her calls yet. Her cell has been harder to bug than I expected, and I haven’t gotten close enough to make it work. Not yet, anyway.
I switch to her photos, dragging through picture after picture until I stop on one where she’s smiling.
Like she used to smile for me. My thumb pauses over the screen, sketching the outline of her face while I imagine touching her again, feeling her tremble beneath my hands the way she did before everything went to shit.
Then a text drops down across the top of the screen.
Brayden
I’m looking forward to our date tonight. See you at 7.
Brayden? Who the fuck is Brayden?
My pulse kicks, and everything in me goes cold. I sit up, staring at the message, at that fucking smiley face. What kind of grown man sends a smiley face?
My fingers clamp around the phone, sending the hippo tumbling from my chest onto the bed as I rise and make for the door.
I don’t know who he thinks he’s picking up tonight, but it won’t be Thora.
THORA
I cross Blair’s massive bedroom toward the long mirror near the windows, still wondering why I agreed to this stupid date. What’s even the point?
I give myself a once-over and decide I look mildly acceptable. The powder-blue dress hits just above my knees and my hair is curled just right, falling over my shoulders in glossy waves. When I tug at the neckline, which dips a little lower than I’d like, Blair appears behind me in the mirror.
“Stop fussing. You look gorgeous.”
“I’m not trying to flash anyone tonight.”
She scoffs. “I’m sure Brayden wouldn’t complain if you did.”
I elbow her, and she giggles as she heads to her vanity to put on some mascara and lipstick while I stand there considering whether it’s too late to fake an illness.
Because every time I picture Brayden walking beside me, sitting close enough for his arm to brush mine, all I can think about is Anton, which is ridiculous. We lasted like a nanosecond.
So why does going on a date with someone else feel so wrong?
I press my lips together and smooth my hands down the front of the dress.
“Are you even looking forward to this a little bit?” Blair asks, coming back to my side.
I turn to her and produce the most unenthusiastic smile known to man. “Sure.”
Her eyes narrow. “That was the least convincing ‘sure’ I’ve ever heard.”
“That’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”
She sighs. “You’re hopeless.”
She’s probably right.
“Just try to have fun,” she adds, throwing an arm around my shoulders. “You don’t have to marry the man. You don’t even have to kiss him. Just let someone take you out and remind you there are men in the world who don’t come with murder charges and emotional damage.”
I push my hair behind my ear. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure you don’t.”
My phone starts ringing—and thank you, sweet baby Jesus, because this is the exact distraction I need from my bestie, who knows me way too well. When Brayden’s name appears on my screen, I check the time.
“It’s a little early for them to be picking us up.”
Blair waggles her brows as she reaches for the clutch on her bed. “Maybe he’s eager.”
I shake my head at her and answer. “Hey.”
“Hey, Thora.” Tension strains his words, and sirens wail somewhere around him.
Shit. That doesn’t sound good.
My gaze cuts to Blair, and her expression sobers the instant she sees mine.
“What’s going on?” I switch the call to speaker so she can hear. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m really sorry to do this, but I’m going to have to cancel tonight.”
Blair’s mouth pops open while I bask in sweet relief. Pure, inappropriate, thank God I don’t have to do this relief.
Which also makes me feel like a terrible person.
“Oh, no. Did something happen?”
“Yeah,” he scoffs. “You could say that. Someone blew up my car.”
My eyes almost fall out of their sockets, and so do Blair’s.
“What? That’s crazy. Did anyone get hurt?”
“No, thank God. But my father wants me to stay put until we know what the hell is going on.”
Blair presses a hand over her mouth as a sick thought forms in my head. Because I have a strong suspicion who might have done this.
“Of course,” I tell him. “You should absolutely stay home. Don’t worry about tonight at all.”
“I’m really sorry, Thora. I’ll make it up to you.”
Yeah, maybe don’t do that. Because if you try, another car might explode.
“It’s okay.” I press my fingers to my forehead. “Really. Just be safe.”
“Yeah. Thanks. I’ll call you when things calm down.”
“Sure.”
The call ends, and I lower the phone from my ear while Blair is still staring, full of disbelief.
“Holy shit. Who the hell would blow up his car?”
My gaze drifts back to the mirror, and Anton’s face fills my mind. With it comes the warning he gave me about letting another man touch me. Maybe setting Brayden’s car on fire was his way of keeping that promise.
The fucked-up part of all this is that beneath the horror and the very reasonable concern that I have attracted a man who thinks arson is an acceptable form of communication, there’s a tiny bit of me that feels a sense of satisfaction. Because he found out about my date and did something about it.
My eyes slam shut.
God help me. I might be worse than he is.