Chapter 64
Ijolted awake around midnight, sweating. My sheets were twisted haphazardly around my legs, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
The images from my dream still hadn’t faded. It was Dr. Pike’s sneering face. He’d been yelling at me. And then after he’d yelled at me, he’d shoved me up against the wall of the exam room we’d been in.
I put my sweaty forehead in my palms and tried to tell myself it was just a dream.
It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real.
And then my phone started to buzz on the nightstand.
My head snapped up. I looked over at it, and in bright white lettering, an unknown number was written across the screen.
My stomach sank so quickly I thought I might be sick.
What was it with these spam calls?
The ringing stopped suddenly, and the room was bathed in silence again. But it felt more eerie after the shrill ring.
So much for trying to calm down. Two doses of adrenaline would be enough to keep me up the rest of the night.
Sleep was definitely not going to find me again.
After a few minutes of staring into the dark, I reached for my laptop instead. If my mind refused to rest, I’d find something else to do.
Chapter Three of my new manuscript came up the moment the screen turned on.
The cursor flickered, but nothing came to my mind. And I suddenly felt an intense need for a change of scenery.
My mind shifted to thoughts of the luxurious library downstairs, and my mouth almost watered as if it were a basket of onion rings.
The library downstairs would be empty. Towering shelves and the smell of aged paper were calling my name.
I hesitated only a second before slipping out of bed and into my slippers.
I walked down the stairs to the connecting door and then ever so softly opened it. I peeked out to make sure everything was dark, then tiptoed over to the double doors by the kitchen.
The smell was even better a second time. Honestly, it was sort of a crime that this beautiful space wasn’t being used. I was just doing my duty as a literary lover by utilizing the space. The scent of paper and polished wood wrapped around me, steadying something inside my chest.
I chose a chair near a set of bookshelves close to the windows overlooking the lake and opened my laptop again.
The words finally started to flow. And it was just the medicine I needed. I was able to forget everything else and just focus on the words in front of me.
I didn’t realize how much time had passed until I suddenly heard the doors to the library open and the sound of someone’s footsteps clearly entering the room.
My shoulders stiffened, and I turned to see Jay coming around the corner shelves into my view.
He looked like he’d just woken up. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he wore a sleep T-shirt and dark grey pajama pants. His brow furrowed at the sight of me.
“Hope?”
I straightened in my chair, a nervous jolt going through me. I was caught red-handed yet again trespassing in his library.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I hurried to explain.
His gaze moved briefly to the laptop, then back to my face.
“You okay?”
The question was simple, but it made my quills rise. My spirit animal was becoming a porcupine. I was sure of it.
“Fine.”
He didn’t look convinced. He glanced toward the double doors behind him. “I saw the light on.”
“I’m sorry, I can go,” I started to move like I was going to gather my things.
“No, it’s okay. You don’t need to go.”
I stopped and closed my laptop halfway. “You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
He didn’t attempt to leave the room and let me continue my work.
“What are you working on?” he asked suddenly.
“My book,” I said.
His brow lifted slightly. “How’s the manuscript coming along?”
I hesitated, debating whether to tell him to leave me alone or to have some mercy and actually give him a real answer.
“It stopped being just fiction,” I finally relented. “I started writing about my story a little bit.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Yeah, I started a whole new manuscript, actually.”
“Well, that’s cool.”
“We’ll see.”
He took a small step closer and leaned against the side table that was a few feet from the chair I was sitting in.
“You want me to go,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
“A little,” I admitted.
Something tugged at the corner of his mouth, and it was the first whisper of a smirk I’d seen since being back.
It should not have affected me. So I was more confused than ever when a flutter went through me.
“I’m still angry,” I said, because I felt like I needed to remind him and myself again of where we were.
“I know.”
It was just as factual as his last sentence.
“I should’ve told you sooner,” he said. “You deserved that.”
“Yes. I did.”
“It’s all true, though,” he continued.
“What’s true?”
“I didn’t want to lose you, Hope. And that led me to make poor decisions. And I’m sorry.”
“It was stupid,” I affirmed, because it really had been a huge betrayal.
My father was the single most difficult thing in my life, other than Pike.
And to have him not disclose that he knew him, that my father had tried to arrange for him to give me a job.
It wasn’t something I was capable of brushing off.
“I’m going to say something,” he said quietly. “And I need you not to get mad.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “I think everything you say makes me sort of mad,” I admitted.
His eyes sparkled with something, as if he enjoyed the challenge. Oh gosh, why did everything turn into banter between us? And why was it so addictive? We fell into it so easily that it was a little disconcerting.
“I love you,” he said.
My breath caught even though I’d heard him say it before.
“You don’t get to say that like nothing happened,” I whispered.
“I’m not pretending nothing happened,” he said quickly. “I’m saying it because I need you to know it didn’t change.”
My heart constricted painfully.
I wanted to forgive him. That was the worst part.
“I don’t know if I can trust you again.”
“I’ll wait.”
He stood from leaning on the side table and started back toward the doors.
“Take your time, Amapolita,” he murmured.
He walked back out to his part of the house and shut the door behind him.
I let out a long sigh, closed my eyes, and listened to his footsteps until they faded completely.