Perfect

Chapter 14 THEO #2

I look down at the money, the ID, and the ring, and I start thinking.

I can just keep everything, which is what I want to do, but it’s not a great option because she’ll get upset and never want to trust me.

I should put everything back and find another way to prove that she doesn’t need to run, but I have to know I can find her if I do that.

We’re definitely connected, because I prepared for this before I knew it would be a problem.

I grab the unopened packages from the attic and set them next to Alex’s things on my desk.

I was going to put a few trackers in her things anyway to help me keep her safe, I just have to go a little bit farther now.

I don’t want to do something this drastic, but I know enough about her past now that I don’t trust her not to run.

This way, if she tries, I’ll know where she is and if she’s safe.

I can’t believe I’ve fucked this up so badly.

It’s fine, I can fix it. We’ll take this slower.

I’ll scrap my plans of having dinner with her every night.

I’m still going to make her dinner, though, but I’ll let her have a few nights to herself.

I’ll stop giving her the gifts I buy for her until she’s better adjusted and we’ve had a long talk about love languages.

I have no idea what hers are, but I’m sure her rejecting the gifts is just her adjusting poorly.

I have no idea what to do about the sex.

That was supposed to be the easy part, but even that’s complicated.

This morning was amazing, but the way she lay underneath me after she initiated tonight, her face blank and her body non-responsive, makes me viscerally uneasy.

That whole situation was really fucking concerning, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.

Everything about this relationship is going so differently than I thought it would, but I know this works.

It has to.

I grab the packages and Alex’s stuff, trying to calm down as I head down to my car.

I can fix this. I just need to try harder.

***

I start by slipping small GPS microtracking chips into things she owns.

Seams of coats and jeans, her purse and backpack and wallet, her suitcase, her shoes, a few scrunchies.

I pop the back off her phone and slip one in there just in case she finds and disables any or all of the location tracking programs I’ve downloaded onto her phone.

I pull up the tracking app and label each tracker with the item I put it in, and after two hours, the app shows about fifty little flags in Alex’s apartment.

It’s a little over the top, maybe, but couples share locations.

I’d give her mine if she asked.

I stare at her, longing roiling inside of me.

We’ll be so happy together once we get this figured out, and I’ll spend the rest of our lives making up this one little thing to her, whether she ever finds out about it or not.

She’s going to have an easy, happy life with me.

She’ll go back to being spoiled, sheltered, and adored the way she deserves.

If she wants, we can have a family. I just need to make sure she can’t run before she sees how good we are together.

Alex is dead asleep while I set up, and a tiny lick of guilt curls in my stomach. Ideally, she’d know about this. She’d want this, maybe even ask for it. I tell myself it’s just temporary. I won’t tell her about it, and I’ll take it out when things are better.

I roll her onto her stomach and swab the skin between her shoulder blades before I prep the syringe and inject a local anesthetic.

She’s so passed out that she doesn’t even flinch, but she still doesn’t deserve to feel any pain.

After a few minutes, I take the larger implantation needle, pinch a fold of skin and slowly push the needle in, injecting the small tracker.

I pull the needle out and rub her back with an alcohol swab, holding a piece of gauze to the injection site for a few minutes.

It’s injected shallowly enough that you can feel it if you push hard, so I’ll be able to find it when I need to take it out, but it’s very small and placed in the area of her back that’s a little hard for her to reach, so she probably won’t find it accidentally.

I clean up, throwing everything back into the box and tucking it into my backpack to throw away at home before I turn off the lights and strip down to my boxers, sliding into bed next to her.

I lay on my back and gently pull her into my arms, tucking her head into my neck and pulling her arm across my chest.

This isn’t even that bad, really. It’s just an extension of us location sharing, and I’ll take it out once she’s adjusted. It’s fine.

I lay awake for another hour holding her.

All relationships take work, and ours just might take a lot more work than I initially expected.

That’s fine. She stirs briefly, her arm moving up around my neck and her thigh slipping over mine, her small, soft body pressing flush against me.

I relax into her, letting her even breathing lull me to sleep.

It’s all going to be fine.

***

When I wake up, Alex is gone. I shoot out of bed, panicking, until I remember to check my phone. She and her running shoes and wallet are moving slowly across town. It’s Sunday, her long run. I’m surprised she can run with how hungover she must be, but I’ll take care of her later.

I make the bed and take a bath, checking my phone occasionally to see where she is.

She takes the bus out to Warrenton, running through Fort Stevens to the beach.

I change into fresh clothes and spend time putting all the cash back, replacing the ring and the ID before driving out to the beach and looking for her.

I find her on top of a dune, surrounded by swaying beach grass. Her eyes are closed, and her pale, sweaty face is turned up to the weak sun filtering through the clouds, a half-empty plastic water bottle in her hand.

Part of me doesn’t want to approach her, doesn’t want to see how her face will change when she sees me, but I walk up to her anyway.

I sit beside her, leaning back on my hands and watching her, longing pooling in my stomach as she refuses to acknowledge me.

I want her to look at me, to smile at me, to be happy to see me.

It’ll happen, I just need to be patient.

She’s still adjusting.

“How’d you find me?” she asks as she finally opens her eyes and looks at me. I can’t discern her expression, but it’s certainly not happiness or affection.

I lift the back of my hand to her clammy forehead, ignoring her flinch. “How are you feeling?”

Her lips turn down into a tiny pout. “I vomited twice.”

“Maybe you should take it easy today. Let me take care of you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

I shrug. “Parking you on the couch, putting on a show you like, making sure you drink water and eat something, maybe keeping you away from wine?”

She scoffs. “Then you’ll give me back my phone and go home, right?

It’s Sunday, and I need to get ready for work tomorrow.

” She’s trying to seem normal, but her eyes are sharp, and I know she’s going to run.

I sigh, knowing I need to let her. “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure,” she says, her voice placating.

She’s going to see me a lot sooner than she thinks.

“Yeah, sweetie. Whatever you want.” I can see her relax a tiny bit, giving me a small, forced smile, but there’s no warmth on her face, nothing but apprehension and determination.

This is going to suck.

***

I try to take care of her, but she’s despondent.

She lays in bed, facing away from me, barely acknowledging me.

I leave her house at four, heading home and pulling up the camera feeds.

She waits about twenty minutes after I leave before moving quickly, changing all her clothes and leaving everything but the cash, the ring, and the ID.

She wears my sweater, which makes me feel a little better about having to do this. It’s a thread of connection she can’t see yet, but it lets me know we’re still on the right path.

I debate whether to head her off at the bus station or let her get her to Portland before I stop her. Letting her leave Astoria will make her feel like she tried, but stopping her in Portland will dissuade her from trying again.

I feel like such an asshole for thinking about it like this, because I’m not this guy.

I drive to Portland, anxiety churning in my stomach as I park a block away from the train station, thinking about how wrong this could go.

I slip inside the station, staying out of sight while waiting for the bus to arrive.

I hate that she thinks she needs to do this, and I hate that she’s going to be so upset with me when I stop her.

Alex doesn’t see me as she gets off the bus, even though she’s glancing around quickly, more observant than I’ve ever seen her.

I duck back so she doesn’t see me as she enters the train station and heads for the ticket counter, walking as quickly as she can without running.

I catch up to her, and she jumps and whirls around when I gently grab her arm, looking devastated when she sees me.

This is not going well.

“Hey, don’t worry. It’s just me,” I say softly.

She lets out a short, sharp exhale and closes her eyes, her face contorting as she starts to cry quietly.

I pull her into a tight hug and kiss the top of her head, trying hard to keep my shit together as I turn her away from the ticket counter and lead her out of the station.

She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t scream or fight me the way I was worried about.

Instead, she lets me lead her back to the car, crying quietly the whole time.

I try to stay calm enough for both of us as I start driving, but it’s hard when I see tears running down her cheeks as she stares blankly ahead.

I need to fix this.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry you felt like you had to do this,” I say quietly, but she doesn’t respond.

“I know you’re upset and overwhelmed right now, but I also know this isn’t just about me.

” She jerks, staring over at me with wide eyes.

“I don’t know what happened to you before you came here, but I want you to know that you don’t need to run from me.

I can make everything better if you just talk to me, I promise. ”

She doesn’t talk to me.

I take her home and get her upstairs, where she sits on the bed staring blankly at the wall while I unpack her small bag, putting everything back where I know it goes. I feel like such a fuck up as I sit next to her and pull her close, ignoring her flinch when I kiss her temple.

“Sweetheart, everything is going to work out, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice is quiet and soft, and a wave of relief washes through me. I don’t know what changed, and I’m not going to ask. I hold her tight, ignoring the fact that she keeps flinching whenever I touch her.

We don’t really talk after that. She gets up and starts getting ready for bed like nothing’s wrong, and I make her dinner while she takes a long time in the bathroom.

When I look at the cameras, she’s lying in the bathtub, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

She eventually comes into the kitchen wearing my college sweater and soft leggings, looking a little lost and ignoring me entirely.

She eats very little of her dinner as she watches an episode of some soapy teen drama she’s rewatching, and I stay in the kitchen, cleaning slowly, giving her as much space as possible in the small apartment.

When she turns off the TV and finally looks at me, my heart jumps into my throat.

“Are you staying?” she asks in a small voice, and I grip the kitchen counter until my knuckles turn white. I know I should go, even though I don’t want to. She’s had such a tough weekend, and I think she probably wants to be alone, so I’m going to do what I should for once in my fucking life.

I shake my head. “I was going to go home, if that’s okay with you. I think we need to take this a little slower.” Her eyebrows raise in surprise. “How about I make you dinner on Wednesday?”

“Okay.” She bites her lip, taking a few quick breaths. “Are you going to have sex with me?” I tamp down the flare of desire I feel at the idea as I stare at her, trying hard to read her.

She didn’t ask if we were going to have sex, so I’m going to play it safe.

“Um, you seem tired, so…no?” She visibly relaxes, and we stare at each other for a minute before I grab my keys off the counter. I step towards her slowly, leaning down to kiss her, and she flinches a little.

I fucking hate that.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?”