Page 227 of Callan

He gives me a soft nod.

“Why are you sleeping here? There’s enough room in the bedroom?” I say, my heart exploding with emotions in my chest.

“I’m used to sleeping alone.”

“You’ve made an exception in the past. Besides, I’d love to have you there with me. I’m not used to sleeping with anyone, either, but I like sharing the bed with you.”

When have I become this blabbering idiot?

He looks at his phone just as it vibrates with a message.

“Okay…” he says, not looking at me. “Go back. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Sure.”

I make myself scarce and slide out the door with a growing feeling in my chest that I have scored a victory.

MACKENZIE

He walksin at around one in the morning.

I’m already tucked in, naked again, waiting, the lights dim in the room.

He goes to the shower first, and I listen to the running water before his electric razor echoes in the bathroom, and then the fresh smell of aftershave wafts through the room as he walks in.

I watch him through almost shut eyes, pretending I haven’t waited for him and I'm not overly excited that we are on speaking terms again.

He wears boxers, and his chest glimmers from the beads of water narrowly escaping the smooth brushing of the towel.

His regular clothes end up in a chair as if he wants to have them handy tomorrow morning when he goes back––God only knows where.

His phone hits the bottom of a drawer.

Finally, he rolls the covers to the side and slides next to me. The mattress dips, and my heart skips a beat or two.

I can’t fully see him with my head tilted to the side, and I can no longer pretend I’m still asleep as I’m too curious not to roll over, tuck my elbow under my head, and study him.

He has his eyes closed, his chest bare, the covers sitting short of the waistband of his boxers.

Surprisingly, he speaks first.

“I didn’t want us to end up like this,” he says with much sorrow in his voice. His voice is hoarse and deep like the pits of hell. “I don’t want you to be my hostage. I would’ve liked you to be here by your own will.”

His words blow my soul to smithereens.

I roll my lip under my teeth and wait for him to deliver another blow.

“But, sadly, here we are, and there are only two choices. I can spare your life. I can get you a new passport and a new identity if you wish, and I can move you across the world. You can have a good life, reinvent yourself, never worry about money, and be aware that if you ever run your mouth, my people will find you before the police.”

“I will never run my mouth,” I say in a strained voice, and he cracks an eye open and looks at me. “You know that…” I add softly.

“It’s not only about the cops. Living with me makes you a living target. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you much and have you with me from the beginning.”

As twisted as it is, a glimmer of hope springs to life.

He liked me from the beginning?

“Yes, I wanted you from the beginning,” he says as if it’s the worst thing that could’ve happened to him.

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