Page 7 of Falling for the Beast

She stood, unable to keep with that train of thought. She needed to check on him. He was asleep on the couch. When the laundry was done and put away she cleaned the windows. After finishing the second floor, she started in on the main floor. She crossed the living room and opened a door that had always been closed. She gasped. The walls were filled with books. Hundreds of them. A library!

She entered the room, touching the spines as she went. Some of the books looked to be quite old, and some of them were newer but still at least ten years old. A worn chair sat by the window, and she imagined Thaddeus in here, sitting and reading. Her heart soared. She wondered if he would let her borrow a book? She saw several she wanted to read.

She slid one out that had a well-worn spine. The cover was faded but showed a man in the forest, a dark look in his eyes. Intrigued, she flipped the book and read the back. It looked like her kind of book. Paranormal monsters, romance, and a bit of a mystery. She slid down into the chair and without thinking, started reading. It was about five o’clock anyway, so he shouldn’t mind. She allowed the story to take her away.

The old grandfather clock in the living room chimed. Startled, she jumped up and looked at the clock. Seven? Had she really been reading for two hours? Man, that was a good book. No wonder it looked like someone had read it a few thousand times.

She placed the book on the table and went to check on Thaddeus. Still sleeping. Was he okay? Wasn’t there something about not letting a person sleep too long after a head injury? She couldn’t remember, but seeing him lying in the same position as he’d been in hours ago, started a slow panic in her chest.

She pulled out her phone and called up Web MD, reading everything she could about head injuries and concussions. This didn’t look good. Sleeping too much was a sign that something was wrong. He really needed to go get checked out at the hospital, but she knew he would be livid if she even suggested it again. And she couldn’t force him to go.

The website said he should be watched, to make sure he didn’t start convulsing or throwing up. She chewed her fingernail. If she stayed the night, she could keep an eye on him, and if anything happened she could call 911.

Her skin prickled as she pulled a blanket from the closet. Web MD said she should try to wake him, but would he be mad? Probably. He might yell. But she couldn’t leave him there alone. She needed to make sure he was okay.

She crept back into the living room and covered him with the blanket. He didn’t move. His long hair hung in his face, and he still clutched the washcloth from earlier. She gently removed the cloth from his hand and set it aside. “Mr. Walker?”

When he didn’t respond, she nudged his shoulder. “Mr. Walker? Are you okay?”

He moaned and rolled over. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. At least he responded. Plus, his face looked better. The bruises weren’t so swollen. She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and a straw. He probably was dehydrated. It took a little prodding, but finally, he sipped some water from the glass and she was satisfied.

Glancing around the room, she wondered if he would mind if she camped out on his recliner for the night. It didn’t matter. He was out of it, and it didn’t look like he’d be up anytime soon. She pulled another blanket out, grabbed the book from the library, and made herself comfortable.

Thaddeus woke when the clock struck midnight. How long had he been asleep? His stomach growled and he tossed the blanket off, moaning at the dull pain that stabbed through his head. Wait. Where did the blanket come from? His gaze fell upon Aribelle sleeping in his chair, and his heart thumped in his chest.

He should wake her and chase her out, but his heart wouldn’t let him. She looked so peaceful sleeping there, her dark hair spread out, her red lips—he walked into the kitchen. He didn’t need to be thinking about her lips.

It hurt to eat, but he forced himself to have a bowl of cereal. Then he showered and washed off the blood from last night. How out of it had he been? He didn’t even remember getting home. At least he hadn’t slept in the ditch, like he did sometimes. But it worried him that Aribelle had seen him like that.

As he dressed, he assessed his injuries. The bruises on his arms had healed. His face looked a lot better. His eye was no longer swollen shut, and his lip had started mending. Of course, he could already see the scar forming in its place.

He toyed with the idea of not going out tonight. Staying with Aribelle, to make sure she was okay. But guilt bubbled up in his chest and he shrugged into his jacket. He was being self-indulgent. He slipped out into the night and mounted his motorcycle. He needed to forget about the girl.

Chapter 4

Aribelle heard a motorcycle roarto life and she jerked awake, her heart in overdrive. The motorcycle revved a couple of times. What was going on? Was someone stealing it? She stared at the couch in disbelief. The blanket lay on the floor in a heap. Thaddeus was gone. She ran to the window and saw Thaddeus speed off down the driveway.

What did he think he was doing? He was in no shape to go out riding. And in the middle of the night? The clock read one-thirty. Did he always go out riding at night? Was that why he was always asleep on the recliner?

In a moment of haste, she grabbed her purse and ran out the door. Her heart pounded as she slid into her Rabbit, the cool night air raising goosebumps along her flesh. What was she doing, following him? That had to be a bad idea, yet she started her engine and took off down the driveway. She wanted to see what he did at night. How he kept hurting himself.

He was speeding down the street so fast it was hard to keep him in sight. Plus, she didn’t want to follow too closely, or he would notice her. Her fingers hurt as she gripped the steering wheel, trying to keep his taillights from disappearing. The winding driveway could be dangerous if she went too fast.

He turned onto the highway and she followed. Why was she doing this? He was a volatile man. It was possible he was going out drinking at night and getting into fights. It made sense, and yet, she didn’t think that was the answer. Something prompted her to dig deeper.

She shook her head as she drove. Why was she following him? Maybe she wasn’t thinking clearly due to lack of sleep. That must be it. Tomorrow, in the light of day, she would think herself foolish.

He turned off the main road and onto a side street in Carson, and she slowed. It was too dark and too deserted. No other cars were on the road. She couldn’t follow without him noticing. She continued past the turn, debating whether to try to find him again or go back in a few minutes, hoping to see where he’d gone.

After thinking about it, she decided she had to know what was happening to Thaddeus at night. She needed to interfere, even if he found her following him. He could yell all he wanted. She didn’t care. She turned around and headed toward the side street.

Her stomach clenched when she slowed to turn. The street lamps were few and far between. Dark houses on each side showed no sign of life. Where had he gone? The street continued past dark and silent homes. One porch light came on as she passed, and she slowed, straining to see if Thaddeus’s motorcycle was parked outside the home. Nothing. No movement from within. The light must have a motion sensor. She passed by it, now worried she’d never find him.

Intersections came and went, and she was unsure which one to take. Ten minutes later the street she’d been following ended, and there was no sign of Thaddeus. He must have turned off somewhere. He hadn’t come back, she would have seen him. The dark houses stood in a row, mocking her. She’d lost him.

Frustrated, she flipped around and headed back to Thaddeus’s house. If she couldn’t follow him, at least she’d be able to find out how long he stayed out at night. She parked her car back in the same place and snuck back into his home, making herself comfortable on the recliner.

She must have nodded off, because the noise of the front door opening was the next thing she heard. She tried to remain still, pretending to be asleep. His footsteps crept down the hall and grew louder, stopping by her chair. She didn’t dare move.

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