Chapter Twelve Sage
Chapter Twelve
Sage
As soon as Travis has finished his dinner and put the leftover portions of veggie lasagna in their proper containers, he changes his clothes and prepares to help me gather my things from Ryan’s cabin.
I wait for him in the living room and wonder how serious he is about his routines. He’s made comments about them before, and a part of me always thought he was joking. Seeing him more intimately in his real life is opening my eyes to the fact that he might not have been.
It makes the fact that he’s willing to throw off his entire routine to make sure I’m safe that much more romantic.
I’ve never had a guy sacrifice something for me.
Sure, asking him to interrupt a few minutes of his schedule to help me isn’t that big of a sacrifice, but it’s a romantic gesture that doesn’t go unappreciated.
When I hear Travis approach, I quickly get up and start folding the blanket on the couch that I ruffled up.
“Oh my god, please stop what you are doing!” he yells as if I just triggered a museum alarm.
“What?” I ask, confused, as he rips the blanket from my hand and starts folding it the same way I did, only he makes sure that all corners line up exactly.
“That’s not the proper way to fold a blanket. Please don’t touch anything else unless it has step-by-step instructions.” He finishes folding and places the blanket back on the couch.
“Sorry,” I mumble, still not sure why everything has to be so perfect.
“Now, let’s go,” Travis says, looking at his watch as he hurries to the door. “I’ve only got an hour and fifteen minutes before I have work to do.”
I jump to my feet and follow him out of the house. He unlocks the car, and I’m surprised when he doesn’t open the door for me. Honestly, I’m glad he doesn’t. If he had, he would have been too perfect, and I might have to try to find some kind of flaw with him.
I hop into the car and look around, impressed at how tidy it all is. Not only is the car in near-pristine condition, but it also smells like it was just cleaned. Considering how immaculate Travis’s house is all the time, I can only imagine how detailed he is with his car.
Travis takes a seat behind the wheel, and I watch as he goes through a checklist in his mind, inspecting the rearview mirror and both side mirrors, and tests to ensure the blinkers make the proper sound when he signals.
When he’s done, he buckles his seat belt, adjusting it slightly around the neck, and looks at me with a blank stare.
“Seat belt.” Travis watches me as he waits for me to comply.
“We’re just driving right down the street. I have really sensitive skin, and it will chafe my neck,” I say, brushing off the suggestion.
“Statistically, over fifty percent of accidents happen within twenty-five miles of home. Short trips give a false sense of security. The risk doesn’t disappear because the destination is nearby.
” Travis pulls his hands from the steering wheel and rests them in his lap while he waits for me.
“I wasn’t asking you to put the seat belt on. I was telling you.”
I don’t argue with him. It’s hard to bite back the smile as I think about just how much he cares.
He doesn’t have to say it, and that’s what I admire about him so much.
Everything he does shows me how much he cares about me.
That whole spiel about traffic accidents is basically him telling me he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to me.
I buckle the seat belt and stare at him with a smile on my face that I make no effort to hide. “What would I do without you?”
He shakes his head and puts the car in drive. “I can think of a lot of things that I would be doing without you.”
I laugh and shake my head as I look out the window for the short but curvy drive.
Travis is a meticulous driver. Even though no one else is on the road, when we come to a stop sign, he stops and looks both ways, not once, not twice, but three times to make sure no car randomly appears to T-bone us.
He hovers exactly at the speed limit, never faltering and going above or beyond by a mere mile.
I can’t blame him; he clearly has precious cargo on board.
I’ve always been prone to the dramatic, and I find myself imagining the two of us getting in a horrific car accident when a deer runs out into the street.
The car flips several times, and Travis barely manages to claw his way out of the wreckage.
He’s on his hands and knees, screaming my name, hoping to find me.
When he finally sees me on the ground, I’m just barely holding on so I can cup his face one last time and tell him I’ll miss him.
“Let’s make this quick,” Travis says, cutting through my daydream as he pulls into Ryan’s driveway.
I lead the way, heading toward the cabin, unlocking the door and letting him in. He doesn’t hesitate, and he immediately makes his way to the bedroom. I wrinkle my eyebrows as I pull the key from the knob and follow him.
He’s acting like he’s been here before, but Ryan mentioned that he doesn’t even know who Travis is. That would mean the two of them never had dinner together or had drinks on the weekend. Travis had no reason to be in Ryan’s house. So how does he know where the bedroom is right away?
“Such a slob,” Travis says as he kneels in front of my two suitcases and starts throwing piles of clothes back in them. “When you’re staying with me, I have rules. One of them is that you cannot leave things lying around like this.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me innocently. “I’m surprised you knew where to find everything so quickly. I didn’t think you and Ryan were very close.”
Travis stops what he’s doing and looks at me, raising an eyebrow almost suspiciously. “It doesn’t take an advanced degree in architecture to know how to find a bedroom. Besides, it was the only door that was open, and seeing all your clothes strewn all over the place, it was a logical conclusion.”
I laugh and fold my arms, watching him as he tries to hastily throw my clothes in the suitcases. I can tell the disorganization is bothering him, and I feel a little ashamed, but I brush it off easily enough.
“Is that everything?” Travis asks as we stand by the door with two suitcases and a backpack filled with my laptop and filming equipment.
“Should be. If I’ve left anything behind, I can always come back,” I say, practically pushing him out. I can hardly wait until I’m back in his cabin, playing house.
We get in the car, and Travis undergoes the same driving ritual he did leaving the first time. I put on my seat belt without prompting, and we head back to his house.
Travis hastily brings all my things to a guest room and sets them down before running off to his office, checking his watch the whole time to make sure he’s still on schedule.
“I’ll be about an hour. Then I want you to show me everything this guy has sent you,” Travis says, looking over his shoulder briefly as he rushes into his office.
I stand in the center of his guest room, looking around curiously. I wouldn’t expect someone like him to get a lot of company, so I’m surprised he even has a guest room. I plop down on the bed, testing how lavish it feels beneath me. For a room that probably gets no use, Travis spared no expense.
I wonder what his bed feels like. I bet it’s perfectly suited for his exact needs, meticulously tested in an actual factory lab and not some hybrid memory foam mattress he got through a deal on .
I don’t know when, but Travis is eventually going to let me see it.
After all, I’m going to be waking up next to him every day for the rest of our lives.
“Sage!” Travis calls from the other side of the door, jolting me out of my thoughts. I lost track of time daydreaming about the two of us, and I hurry to grab my laptop and meet him in the living room to go over all the details. “I have to go to sleep in two hours, so we don’t have much time.”
I open the laptop and pull up my Instagram account to show him everything. “I’ve been a content creator for two and a half years. I don’t remember exactly when DarkHours99 started messaging me, but it couldn’t have been long after I started.”
I open our message exchanges, highlighting how he would often send me several messages in a row without any response, leaving me paragraphs upon paragraphs talking about how beautiful he thinks I am.
“He comments on literally everything after I post it. If I were to post something right now, within five minutes he would leave a comment, possibly even message me privately.”
Travis leans forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his legs as he analyzes the messages between us.
His eyebrows are furrowed, as if he’s concentrating deeply.
It warms my heart to see how much he cares about what I’m going through.
He’s truly interested in this issue of mine, and I’m thankful for that.
Not a lot of women can land men who genuinely care about what’s going on with them.
I guess I’m just one of the lucky ones.
“And all of the messages are this suggestive?” Travis asks, sitting up and looking at me with a hint of frustration in his eyes.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from squealing from excitement.
He’s actually frustrated—maybe even angry.
He sees that someone has been harassing me, and he feels so connected to me that it bothers him too.
I have him right where I want him. It’s only a matter of time before he’s falling head over heels for me.
I nod and lean forward to load up my profile to show him some of the comments being left on my public posts. As I do, I scroll to the bottom and see a new message I haven’t read yet from him. Why won’t you answer me? Are you with him?
Travis looks concerned again as he stares at the message.
“What am I supposed to do? He might know where I am, and he can do something to try to find me.”
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Travis says with confidence in his voice that has me believing it. I look at him, feeling more appreciative for his presence than I ever have. I can read between the lines. He’s going to protect me. He’s never going to let this man do anything to harm me.
“I’ll try to figure out where he’s sending you messages from in the morning.” Travis takes a deep breath as he stands up and stares down at me. “You should try to get some sleep tonight.”
He turns around and walks away, presumably heading toward his bedroom to sleep for the night. Alone. Tragic.
“Thank you,” I call after him, standing up and biting my lip as he turns around and nods. “Thank you for everything. You have no idea how scary it is to be alone. There are all kinds of bad people out there, and I’m glad I have you to help.”
He smiles at me without saying anything and walks away.
I go back to the guest room and climb into bed, trying for what feels like hours to fall asleep.
All I can think about are the messages DarkHours99 has sent and the possibility that he’ll show up somewhere in town to confront me.
I think about him breaking into Travis’s house, and Travis taking care of the situation for me.
It puts a smile on my face. I just feel safe with him in a way I haven’t with many other people.
So, naturally, when I can’t fall sleep, I go find him.
I crack open his bedroom door, being as quiet as a church mouse, to find him sleeping on his back with the blankets perfectly tucked around him and his arms flat beside him.
I don’t know why I would expect him to sleep in any other position.
I tiptoe across the room and carefully pull up the blanket and climb in bed next to him. He doesn’t stir at all. I don’t want to wake him. He looks more peaceful now than he has ever since I’ve known him. Instead, I lie next to him, studying every inch of his face until I fall asleep.