Page 12 of Surrender

I don't hear from Joseph or Declan anymore that night. Thank God, because I'm not sure I'd know what to tell them.

It isn't until hours later that I have a problem.

I'm laying on a mattress as soft as a pillow, and I'm so tired I could sleep for a week. But for some reason, sleep doesn't find me. The comforter is decadent, and the mattress is leagues above the one I have at home where I have to sleep in a specific way to avoid the springs that threaten to come through the fabric.

I can hear the sound of the city muffled outside, but instead of soothing me to sleep like it normally does, it sounds too quiet, too far away. I can't hear the constant drum of the window AC unit from our apartment or music or shouting from the neighbors.

I look at the clock to see it's already 5 am. I have no idea what time Declan gets up, but I peek out of my door and find the house quiet and empty. I didn't pay attention when Joseph showed me to my room, but I tiptoe into the hallway, balancing on the balls of my feet so the wood doesn't squeak. My heart races as if he's going to find me any second and be angry with me.

His home is simple but incredibly elegant. The hardwood floors are older, but clean. The wide baseboards and detailedcrown molding hint that this is one of the older homes in the city.

I cross through two sitting rooms, both with couches, fireplaces, and bookshelves full of older-looking books. Through a dining room at the back of the house, I finally find the kitchen.

I just want a glass of water. That should be okay, right? I don't think he'll be mad at me for just water.

I move slowly, trying to tilt the glass and fill it silently. I drink half of it down before curiosity gets the better of me and I start to look at the kitchen around me. I want to see how the other half lives. There's a massive gas stove with eight burners and a huge refrigerator. I open it to see it fully stocked with everything I could ever imagine. Sodas, juices, smoothies, fruits, vegetables, leftover containers - all organized in neat little plastic totes.

It's enough to make me cry. I close it gently before opening the pantry.

The walk-in pantry looks like a small grocery store. He has enough food here to feed an army. I take a few cautious steps in and let my gaze run over all of the different packages. Pasta, canned veg, sugar, cookies, four different types of flour. Four!

I let out a stunned breath.

Serenity, we're not in Kansas anymore.

I don't even know what I would do with all of this. I wouldn't have to go grocery shopping for months. The urge to use all of these ingredients hits me hard. I guess when you live with scarcity, you want to latch on to any sudden abundance.

I feel... calm.

And tired.

It's silly how a man's pantry could have such an impact on me, but it does. I guess food has always represented my poverty.

It's always been the one thing we could go without. When my parents are drunk or high, they're not hungry. When I sleep, I'mnot hungry. So food was always the last thing we spent money on. Food was a luxury we couldn't always afford.

My eyelids are heavy now and my heart is finally slowing down. I could just take a quick cat nap in here and be gone by the time Declan wakes up.

I'm not bothering him or anything.

I lay down on the hard, cold floor, but it's actually more comforting than his super soft mattress.

I swear I've barely laid down before I'm out.

Chapter eight

Declan

Panic, like I haven't felt in a decade, squeezes my heart until I swear it might actually stop beating.

She's gone.

Serenity's gone.

I'd let her sleep in, imagining how exhausted she must be, but when I knocked on her door at ten to ask how she wanted her coffee and what to eat for breakfast, I'd found her bed empty.

Every terrible scenario played through my mind on a loop as I searched through the entire house for her.

She'd snuck out and was walking around DC alone.

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