Page 116 of Fixation
I should hate it.
And yet the pull remains. That reckless gravity that had me standing on the terrace with Darla earlier, searching for him like an idiot.
With a frustrated huff, I sit up on the edge of the bed.
My fingers fist the sheets. My toes tap out anxiety across the rug. My mouth twists.
What happened in his basement was wrong. And right. And devastatingly fucked-up.
He saved you. That was kind of him. When no one was there, you had Anderson. And he did end up letting you go.
“Fuck.” I hang my head low.
What does he want?
More importantly, what doIwant?
I want out of this house.
Yes, that’s it. I want to run, get some fresh air. To forget about his dark eyes and his cock inside me. I have to.
The clock on my phone says it’s almost 1 a.m. If it could talk, it’d tell me to go back to bed.
What for?
What fucking for?
Tank top. T-shirt. Running shorts. Socks and sneakers.
I pull my hair up in a high ponytail, ready to go down the stairs, when my phone buzzes.
For a full minute, my heart stops. I move toward the bedside table where I left it.
Dread and something darker slow my steps.
What does my captor have in store for me now?
I’m not disappointed when I see it’s my brother calling instead of him. I would never.
“Beau.” I take my phone downstairs with me, open the door, and then lock it behind me.
“Sis.”
Too late, I realize that I forgot my earbuds. With a sigh, I press the phone closer to my ear. “What’s up?”
Though I’m jogging in the other direction, I let my eyes wander to Anderson’s house. The place I was held captive.
The lights are off there. No shadow lurks behind the windows on any floor.
There could be other predators out there this late at night in the city. It isn’t safe to go jogging by myself at this hour.
But the people passing me by seem harmless. A woman in gray running gear rounds the corner. A man who seems harmless enough walks down the stairs to his brownstone and onto the street, his beagle dog on a leash.
They’re okay. So am I.
“Hello? Beau?” My sneakers pound on the pavement. Air surges into my lungs. “What’s going on?”
“You know we support you, and—what’s that? Are you running?”
