Chapter 1 Lane #2
“What time is it?” she croaks. Her brown eyes are squinting.
“Six thirty.”
“Jesus.”
I take in her blotchy skin and puffy eyelids.
“Did something happen to you?”
She shoots me a look that seems to waver between dislike and despair, and I shudder despite myself.
“Did somebody hurt you?”
She parts her lips but doesn’t answer right away.
She frowns. “Yeah…”
I start to straighten up. “Want me to call the cops?”
“For what?” She sneers. “I just got dumped. I doubt they’ll give a shit. Dumped.” She repeats the word as if it’s the first time she’s ever said it.
I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. “Oh my fucking God! I thought it was something way worse.”
“Worse?” She spits it out, like nothing in the world could be worse than being dumped.
“Did you spend the night here?”
I immediately regret asking. Obviously, she did.
“Looks that way.” She shrugs.
She shifts, wincing, and cracks her neck on both sides.
“You planning on hanging around for much longer?”
“How about you mind your own fucking business, for starters?”
“Whoa, easy!” I hold up my hands. “I couldn’t care less about what you do, as a matter of fact. But the super will definitely be calling the cops if she sees you here. She’s always roaming the building, looking for wild tenants to take down.”
“That bitch Ms. Curtis.” The girl wipes her nose on her sleeve.
My mouth falls open. “You know her?”
“Of course I do. I live here. I mean… I used to live here…”
Out of nowhere, a sob escapes her, and tears start streaming down her face. Her cheeks are already stained black with dried makeup. Shit. Now what?
I stare at her. I have no fucking clue what to say.
Normally, I’d already be in my apartment by now, but something’s holding me back.
Maybe it’s that her crying is stirring up tough memories—although, to be honest, a heartbreak shouldn’t be enough to whip a person into such a state.
There’s much fucking worse in life. Like losing somebody for good…
I bite back on the words, feeling my chest tense.
I immediately clench my jaw, taking a deep breath in and letting a deep breath out.
Then I look back and forth, from the girl to my prized bag of coffee.
Against my better judgment, I hold it up. “Want coffee?”
She doesn’t say a thing, and her sobbing doesn’t seem to be slowing down.
I’ve fucking had enough of playing Mr. Nice Guy, so I give up and climb two steps before I stop.
I turn back and throw her one last look.
I don’t know her, but I kind of feel guilty leaving her here like this. Me and my damn bleeding heart.
“Last chance,” I drawl.
Finally, she lifts her gaze to meet my eyes and glances back down the hallway a couple of times. She’s having a hard time making up her mind, I can tell. As if moving now would forever seal her fate.
“I’m not going to chop you up into chunks and stick you in the freezer, you know.”
“What if you suffocate me with a plastic bag and dump my body in a moldy basement, though?” She scowls in my direction.
“I don’t have a basement, and I only have cheap trash bags. You’d definitely get yourself free.”
She bites her lip, as if seriously considering I might assault her. I’m losing patience.
“Fine, have it your way,” I sigh, climbing another four steps.
I’ve already gone too far and broken my loner code, I reason. Time to leave her to it.
I head toward my front door. I’m honestly surprised I spent so long lingering over her. It’s not that I’m a selfish bastard, but I’m pretty much immune to heartache at this point.
Without looking back, I enter my apartment and kick my front door to close it, waiting to hear it slam shut.
Except I have to turn around because no sound comes.
There, in the doorway, one small hand against the worn wood, is the girl from the stairs, gazing at me warily.
Her sweater hangs to her knees, almost competing with the length of her hair.
“Oh, so you changed your mind?”
“Yeah.” She breathes out, a sob catching in her throat.
“You managed to overcome your fear of being murdered by the resident psycho?”
She shrugs. “Maybe I just don’t care if I am…”
Right. I raise an eyebrow and watch as she shuts the door behind her, walks to my couch, and slowly sinks into it.
I turn back to my coffee machine, glancing over at her from time to time.
She stares out the window and, after a while, flings back her head, clamping her hands over her forehead and eyes.
Why the hell did I even ask her up here? I could have spent another two solid hours chilling before Carter got back on my case, but no: Here I am dealing with a sobbing neighbor.
Once the coffee is ready, I fill up a mug and take it over. When I look down at her, she’s stretched out across the couch, sleeping like a baby. I reach out to touch her arm but stop a few inches short, changing my mind.
“You look pretty relaxed for such a scaredy-cat,” I whisper.
I leave the steaming-hot coffee on the table and look at her for a few seconds. She has pulled her hood back down, and a pair of Ray-Bans have materialized on her face out of thin air. Her breath is still ragged. What a sight.
“Well…”
I don’t know whether I should leave her here or call one of my friends to come get her.
I head to the kitchen, slouching against the counter and gulp down my coffee. In the end, I decide to leave her be. It’s not like I have anything worth stealing here. There’s no harm in letting her stay for a short stint, I tell myself.
I head to my room having no clue I’ve just hit the gas on a full-blown mess.