Page 132 of Counting On You

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kaiden

I’m restingon a stranger’s bed, staring at a poster of “The Scream” by Edvard Munch. I’ve never been a fan of old, famous paintings, but this one talks to me. Fear has been plaguing me since I was called into the main office this morning. The fear inside me has grown to new proportions when I was told to pack my bags and move out of my apartment. My fear’s now turned into panic at the prospect of leaving Vicky behind.

In retrospect, I could have handled that meeting differently. I should have kept my mouth shut or called my relationship with Vicky a one-time thing, but as usual, I went overboard. I revealed everything, bathing myself in a very bad light to protect Vicky, which might not have been necessary. Despite my willingness to confess, my request to continue the program was denied. So, here I am, fearing the hours that are quickly passing by, waiting for the car to pick me up, as I’m staring at a print of an old painting.

At least, I could convince them that Vicky was in no way to blame. That knowledge will be my only solace after I’ve left this place. That and the hope that I might see her again.

I hope she’ll want to.

There’s a rap at the door. Soft at first, then a little firmer. I choose not to respond because it can’t possibly be anyone I want to see—and the only person I want to see is Vicky.

Footsteps retreat.

Good!

They can leave me the fuck alone.

Another rap that resembles scratching, this time urgent. The sound comes from the window.

I jump up from the bed and pull the curtains aside. My temporary bedroom is situated on the second floor overlooking the front yard. It’s dark outside, the light of a single streetlamp too weak to illuminate the path leading up to the entrance.

Even though everything’s silent, I open the window anyway and scan the area below.

I spy Vicky standing near the tall bushes, holding a tall, wooden stick in her hand. Her face is bathed in darkness but I can’t help but notice her beautiful hair falling past her shoulders in flowing cascades.

“Vicky?” I whisper.

Before I can tell her to wait, she starts to climb up the rose trellis under my window. And fuck, she looks hot doing it. I stretch out my hand to get a grip on her and pull her up.

“Why are you here? Do you want to get kicked out, too?” I wrap my arms around her and hold her close.

“I needed to see you before you left.”

There’s something in her tone. Her face is pale, her eyes swollen as if she’s been crying, which is impossible.

Vicky never cries.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

I frown, taken back by her state, by her words. I close the window, drawing the curtains closed, then turn to face her. “It’s not your fault.”

She takes a deep breath, struggling with whatever she wants to say.

“Kade.” Her lips are quivering as she speaks my name. “What you did—you probably saved me from violating my restraining order. The calendar…I don’t know what to say to that.” She breaks off, searching my gaze. “It was certainly very inventive.”

I cringe.

This is the time.

Even though telling her the truth is the last thing I want to do, we can’t have secrets standing between us.

“They told you everything.”

Vicky nods her head, her expression still soft, but her insecurity is etched in her features. “It was a good excuse. How did you get your friend to play along?”

Silence fills the air as realization dawns on me.

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