CHAPTER 40 - Noah Black #2
I reach across the bed, and when I feel the empty space beside me, I open my eyes.
The room is dim. I run my hand through my hair, trying to tame it, and sit on the edge of the bed.
After stretching, I walk to the window, and when I pull back the curtain, daylight floods in, making me squint against the sudden brightness.
It's already morning, and I'm sure Bryan is at work by now. He mentioned yesterday, after we got out of the shower, that he had things to take care of and probably wouldn't be back until evening, but if I needed anything, I should just call—he'd only be a phone call away.
I walk to the closet to put something on, since I'm completely naked, but as soon as I step inside, a piece of paper with something on top catches my eye. As I get closer, I see it's a flash drive, and I immediately recognize the crooked, familiar handwriting.
If you ever get curious about how everything really went down, just plug this flash drive into the side port of the TV.
Let me know when you watch, okay? I'll need to send you flowers and a huge mocha. In some of the videos, I might have cursed and called you cruel.
B.T.
I look at the object and run to the TV, plugging it in, curiosity already burning. I return to the bed, pull up the comforter, and turn on the TV. When the screen lights up, a list of videos appears—all of them labeled.
The first one is: company headquarters.
I press play and my heart races when Bryan appears on camera. He's holding his phone, and the background is identical to the room I saw when I visited Prestige Shield.
“Since I always keep my promises, today I'm going to show you the place where Luke and I are opening the security company,” he begins with a firm voice.
In the video, his beard is fuller than what he wears now.
“I thought this space would make a great reception area,” he says, and for the next few minutes he shows me every corner of the place.
I feel like I'm there with him, walking through, absorbing every detail he chose to show me first. “That's it.
Now I'm going to let Luke in. He's pissed about waiting in the car, especially since he has no idea what I'm doing in here alone.”
The camera goes dark and a tear slips down my cheek. My heart is still pounding when I press play on the second video.
“I don't know why the fuck I keep doing this,” he says, his voice completely different from the previous video.
“I just got the keys to the apartment and I should be celebrating, bringing some woman home to get you out of my fucking head, but all I could do was get wasted, reread your message, and record this shit.”
The video cuts off abruptly and my heart clenches.
I take a deep breath and open the third one.
“Here's the kitchen.” He's no longer sitting on the floor like in the previous video. “I'm going to put in custom cabinets in a dark finish. I think you'd like it.” I smile through my tears. “The living room is already done.” He turns the camera, showing the space he mentioned.
For the next few minutes, I watch him show every room in the apartment, and once again I feel as if I were here the day he recorded it.
The fourth video is him leaving the dealership with a black truck.
In the fifth, he's in the kitchen. I immediately notice that the white dress shirt he's wearing is stained with blood.
Bryan starts talking about how he smashed some guy's head in because he saw him grabbing a girl while passing through an alley.
He downs his drink and stares directly at the camera.
“It's not the first time I've sent a bastard to hell, but it was the first time doing it made me think of you since that night.”
I open video after video, and with each new recording, he changes before my eyes. Bryan becomes firmer, more confident, more dangerous, yet he remains the same man who loves me.
I watch an hour of his life condensed into small recordings, and as I close the last video, I realize I still love him as much as I did the first moment I saw him.
Maybe even more, because now I see everything he was, everything he became, and how much, despite everything, he loved me every day we were apart.
Some videos were harder to watch, as he warned, but nothing tops the fact that Bryan Trevor—a guy who tortures without mercy and kills with a smile—recorded video after video over the years about his own life, all to show me, simply because he promised I would always be the first to know everything about his life.
If I wasn't already certain this man is truly crazy about me, I would be now after everything I just watched.
“Honey?” The voice makes me turn off the TV, and when I look toward the doorway, I find Greta. “Sorry for opening the door. I called you like three times, and when you didn't answer, I got worried.”
“I got caught up in something.” I stand up and she raises an eyebrow.
“You know you're naked, right?” she warns, and my eyes go wide as I yank the sheet up. She lets out a laugh that fills the room. “Get dressed and come have breakfast. The little one is already chattering away at the table about how brave she is and how she went on the really tall Ferris wheel.”
My laughter joins hers.
“She's going to spend at least a week talking about it,” I joke, and she nods, closing the door behind her.