Page 44 of Nemesis
I closed my eyes to listen for the sound of running water but heard nothing.
It was utterly quiet. Too quiet for my liking and I hated silence.
What is this place?
I must have said it out loud because Theo’s voice broke the static silence. “It belongs to someone I know. We thought it’d be best to take you somewhere that couldn’t be traced back to your husband.”
I looked away from the view and back at Theo.
Tossing our bags over his shoulder, he glanced back at me. His eyes held mine for a beat before he averted his gaze and made his way toward the cabin. I let out a breath, then followed a few steps behind him, up the wooden steps of the small porch.
Albeit small, the cabin had massive bay windows all-around that allowed anyone to peer inside. The interior reminded me of my old studio’s setup, minus the mess and countless computer monitors.
He pushed the door open and turned to face me, waiting.
He’d changed into a black thin cable-knit sweater, the strip of a white bandage peeking through his collar. He most likely patched himself up and changed on the way here because last I remembered, he was still wearing his bloodied shirt when we left the house.
I cut past him, walking inside, and he followed, setting the bags down by the door after shutting it behind him.
It smelled exactly how you’d expect an old, uninhabited cabin in the middle of nowhere to smell like—musty wood and damp soot invaded my senses.
As I took in the space, he walked around, opening the windows. The interior was slightly bigger than I expected it to be, but everything just melted together, like one big room, with a narrow hallway to the side.
A rustic-looking leather sofa sat in the middle of the living room, a small worn down coffee table in front of it, with a woodstove in the far corner. A thick rug covered the front of the fireplace and the couch, but the rest was bare wide-plank beams.
The kitchenette had a black stove and a sink overlooking the field next to it. There was no dishwasher in sight, only a drying rack next to the sink. The fridge was on the far right, and a butcher block island sat in the middle of the area.
I guessed the bedrooms and bathroom were probably along the hallway.
I ventured down to the far right, a hand rubbing the back of my neck, massaging the kinks from sleeping funny in the car, as I moved toward the hallway. I opened the doors lining the hallway one by one, looking for where each of us would be sleeping for however long we stayed here.
I found a closet, a bathroom, but still no bedroom in sight. I reached for the final door and unlocked it, then stepped inside.
A line instantly formed between my brows.
Esto tiene que ser una broma.
A single bed greeted me.
Like one bed. As in singular. Like there was just one. And a narrow one at that. The only way two people could ever fit in it was if they slept cuddled, one person on top of the other.
I turned to leave the room when I slammed into a solid frame. His steps were so quiet, I barely heard him approach. Startled by the heat of his body searing into mine, I took a step back, only for my back to slam into the doorframe.
A shiver ran down my spine at how close he was, my chest grazing his front with each inhale.
I dragged my gaze up his hard chest, and my breath hitched when our eyes collided, something I couldn’t decipher flickering in them. My stomach tightened with anxiety, that this could be the moment he realized who I was. That the next thing out of his mouth would be my name,my real name. Sofia.
My gaze drifted to his full mouth, and I swallowed thickly.
He jolted back as if the thought of touching me any longer was physically excruciating and his gaze drifted above my head and into the bedroom.
“You can have the bed,” we said simultaneously, meeting each other’s gaze.
A muscle in his jaw flexed as he peered back over my shoulder, looking intently at the bed as if it would magically make another one appear. “Mrs. Morales, take the bed. I can sleep on the couch.”
“Mr. Alvarez, Iinsist.”
He shifted his glance back at me.
