36. Chapter 36
LONDYN
Thankfully, I don't have a concussion or any permanent bodily trauma, only a collection of hard bumps and bruises and scrapes.
And new memories to keep me up at night.
As Sean closes the door and flips the metal security latch, I glance at his injured hand, the one I'm not holding.
There's a stark white bandage wrapped around it, contrasting against his tan skin.
Seeing that really hurts something inside me.
His knuckles got scraped raw when he broke my fall and I know his back was strained.
Yet, he made that sacrifice without hesitation and hasn't winced or complained about his injuries once.
He must be hurting, but his expression gives nothing away.
He's only been holding my hand softly and gazing at me with that sweet, handsome smirk of his.
Just a few weeks ago, I couldn't imagine letting any man get this close. Now I can't imagine surviving without his palm pressed against mine, our fingers woven together so tightly I'm not sure where he ends and I begin.
Maybe that's what love is: two people so entangled that separation feels like losing limbs.
Neither of us speaks as we stand in the entryway, gazing at each other. We don't even turn to check out our temporary home; I only want to look at him.
I wonder if I should be a nervous wreck.
I mean, here we are at a hotel because it's not safe to be in my apartment; we don't know where The Director is or if he'll try to come for me again.
I was kidnapped and battered just hours ago, which was all my fears coming true.
And yet… I'm completely calm. Probably a bit hollow.
The adrenaline that kept me fighting through The Director's touch, through the knife pressed to my throat, through the desperate struggle in that SUV…
it's gone. My body feels disconnected now, like I'm steering it remotely, watching myself through security camera footage.
But Sean's thumb making slow circles on my knuckles keeps me grounded. I know with certainty that whatever comes next, he'll be here holding my hand. We'll face it together.
"Did those meds kick in?" he finally asks, and I realize we've been standing here, just gazing at each other, for probably ten minutes.
I glance down at the shopping bag I'm holding in my other hand. We made a stop to pick up prescriptions, toiletries, and also clothes so we have something to wear. "Oh… yeah. Less pain. Still fuzzy, though." I squeeze his hand lightly. "Do you need something? At least some pain pills?"
"I'm alright."
We continue to hover, neither of us moving deeper into the two-bedroom suite. Sean is still stroking my hand, each pass of his thumb soothing another knot of tension from my shoulders. His eyes are studying my face, reading me as easily as he always does.
"My head hurts," I whisper, because it's easier than saying anything else.
Yes, my head really hurts, and I feel so groggy I don't remember much from the car ride with The Director.
But I also I can't yet find the words to talk about how seeing The Director again cracked open parts of me I'd spent six years trying to seal shut.
And I can't yet admit that without Sean's steady presence, I might be shattering into pieces.
But there's something else beneath this new trauma. A thought and some, I don't know, epiphany I can't yet bring to the surface.
I also want to tell Sean I love him, but I'm scared.
It's that simple.
"The doctor said to rest," he says. "You can take another dose of the pain meds if it gets worse. Come on. Let's get you settled."
I nod and even that small movement makes my head throb. More meds would probably be good. Reluctantly, I release Sean's hand.
"Wait here," he tells me, then he wander off to start checking out the room. I'm not sure if he's looking for cameras or if anyone can access the windows, but it's comforting how he's 'securing the room.'
While he does, I finally glance around our suite. I told Sean he didn't need to get such a pricey room, but he insisted, saying I should be as comfortable as possible.
It's everything I'd expect from a five-star hotel.
The colors are crisp white and tan. There's a small sitting area with a plush white couch and TV.
Beyond that, there are two bedrooms and bathrooms. It even has a small kitchenette tucked in the corner with marble countertops.
It's pretty much an apartment; actually, I think it's way bigger than mine.
Sean returns to where I am at the door and he takes the bag I'm holding.
He starts separating items—mine and his.
When he's done making piles, he gathers my stuff and walks to one of the rooms. Something about seeing our stuff separated and moved apart gives me an itchy, uncomfortable feeling in my chest, so I grab his pile and follow silently.
He sets my things on the bed and then turns. He smiles when he sees what I'm carrying and offers to take it from me.
"Thanks," he says. "I got it."
He's not understanding, so I set his pile on the bed next to mine.
He glances down at the items, running his tongue over his teeth and considering. Finally, he takes my hand and gives it a light squeeze. "You sure?"
"Yes." I swallow hard, looking down at our joined hands. I never want to let go. "I just… I don't want to be alone. I like… when you're close."
When I find the courage to look up, Sean's eyes are so relaxed and warm that I could drown in them and call it salvation. They're filled with understanding so pure it makes me want to weep.
He nods with one single dip of his chin. "Anything, beautiful."
My heart aches; I love when he calls me that, but it also soothes me too deeply and might make me fall to my knees and start weeping.
I'm not ready for that yet.
I have to release his hand, just for now.
"I need to change," I say, grabbing the leggings and shirt I bought earlier and moving toward the bathroom.
I pause. "Oh, can I maybe borrow your phone?
I really want to message my friend before she worries too much.
I'm sure she's texted by now and wondered why I haven't responded like I normally do. I won't peep at anything. Promise."
His smirk is sweet as he pulls out his phone and hands it to me. "Sure. The passcode is four-seven-eight-three-one. Peep all you want."
I laugh, and it feels good. It's a tiny spark of joy in this terrible day. "Thank you."
He grabs his clothes and leaves for the other bathroom, giving me some privacy.
It's so strange holding something so personal to Sean, something that can reveal so much about him, but I really don't want to pry. When I learn more about his past, his life, I want it to be through conversation and discovery, not from snooping through his phone.
Quickly, I open a browser and log into my social media account. Then I check the DMs. Just as I thought, Raven sent me several messages that are increasingly worried.
RavenMad: It's late there, yeah? You home from work?
RavenMad: Okay. Even later now. Message me, plz.
RavenMad: I hope you're just in the nuddy with your bloke, but please send me something. Plz. Even a thumbs up.
RavenMad: So worried. You okay?
RavenMad: Looking at plane tickets to New York.
The last message was sent just fifteen minutes ago. Before she buys any tickets, I type a quick reply.
Londyn83: It's been a terrible day. My phone is gone. I'm not at home. Sorry I haven't responded. Something scary happened but I'm safe now. Sean's here. I might not be able to message for a few days but I promise I'm okay. We'll talk as soon as I can. Love you.
The message seems inadequate, like trying to describe a hurricane as 'windy,' but I don't have the strength for more right now. Besides, if I explained what happened, she'd really be on the next flight, visa requirements be damned.
After I set Sean's phone on the nightstand, I drag myself to the bathroom.
I need a shower, but I'm too tired. It takes the rest of my energy just to change into the leggings and sleep shirt I bought.
Then I climb into bed and turn off the lights.
I lie in the semi-darkness, listening to the sounds of Manhattan drifting through my window: car horns and distant sirens and the rush of people living their lives.
Normal sounds that suddenly seem so fragile.
The shadows play tricks on me and I see The Director again.
I feel my head connecting with the window; I feel a sharp blade pressed into my throat.
Then there's Sean, fighting for me, saving me, filling me with more strength than I thought I had.
I knew if I didn't help in some way he would get hurt, and the thought of Sean crashing, dying, filled me with more breath-stealing dread than seeing The Director.
So I acted, shoving myself into that psychopath and grabbing the knife to stab him.
I did that. I fought back.
Because Sean was there and made me feel invincible.
My heart is now beating his name and I don't want it to ever stop.
Sean appears in the bedroom doorway, now wearing sweatpants and a tank top. He's a silhouette painted in the glow of city lights from outside. His blue hair is darkened by moisture because he must've taken a quick shower.
He hesitates in the doorway, so I pat the empty space beside me on the bed.
The mattress dips beneath his weight as he eases under the covers, careful to leave space between us. I bridge the gap, seeking his uninjured hand. Our fingers lace together and I melt into him, my head resting on his chest. He shifts positions so he can wrap an arm around me and pull me closer.
Once I'm in his arms, he exhales long and slow, like it's a breath he's been holding his entire life.
I close my eyes and inhale his fresh scent. This man is my protector. My book club buddy. My support. My—
The man I want in my future.
And I almost lost him today. Someone almost took him away from me.
The fear of Sean dying sparks every other fear I've managed to hold in from this terrible, terrible day.
My thoughts begin auditioning worst-case scenarios.
I imagine The Director finding me again, raping me in my apartment.
Tying Sean to a chair and making him watch.
Or he takes me back to Hollywood and locks me in a room. He kills me and I disappear forever.
I've been doing a pretty great job of remaining neutral, now suddenly, in Sean's safe arms, everything pours out until I'm buried in a landslide of all the fears I'd refused to name.
One body-wrenching sob escapes. Then another. And another. My body convulses with the force of them, each one tearing through me like I'm made of paper.
Sean gathers me against his chest with a carefulness that only makes me cry harder. His arms encircle me, creating a fortress against the world. His heartbeat becomes my focus—steady, strong, alive.
"I've got you," he whispers into my hair. "I've got you, beautiful. I won't let go."
I collapse into his promise, surrendering to the storm I can no longer outrun. All the pain and fear and helplessness rush out of me in violent waves, soaking his shirt.
Somewhere in the violence of my outburst, he whispers to me in Korean. I'm so emotionally flooded that I can't hold the sounds in my head, but it's soothing. The unknown words somehow soothe me enough that I can breathe again without gasping.
And through it all, he holds me, one hand stroking my back while the other cradles my head against his heart. He doesn't try to stop the flow or quiet my sobs. He keeps me safe as I cry through the pain.