Page 31 of The Twelve Days of Christian
“I thought it might be a good thing to have with you. A reminder of why this is important.” Now he’s seen it, I’ll have to confess. “I’m sorry—I snooped in your bedroom at the apartment.”
“Hope it was tidy,” he says.
“Immaculate. Impressively so. I think you need to move in here and retrain Ollie.”
The flippant suggestion of him moving in brings a warm rush of possibility. I’ve become used to Christian here. No—IlikeChristian here. Is that because despite all my claims—that I love the independence, cherish the freedom to do whatever I want—I’m lonely in this house? Or is it something else? Now our lives have been twined together like this, I’m finding it hard to imagine anything less. That word ‘less’... I didn’t pluck it out of the air by accident. My lifewassomething less prior to him showing up at my door. I have to admit it—Christian has made my life more.
“How did you even get it past me?” He’s staring down at the photographs, his mouth soft and tender, blue eyes like a clear sky, not the raging storm of earlier.
“While Rachel was interrogating you.”
He grins. “Yeah, I wouldn’t want to be a witness under her cross-examination. Your friends,” he laughs. “They’re something else. No wonder I didn’t notice you sneak this into the house on Monday. The ninja nurse had me pinned to the floor.”
“No, I only brought it over tonight. That’s why I was late. Little white lie.”
His eyes jerk up to meet mine. “Tonight? You went back to the apartment tonight?”
“Yes,” I admit. “Sorry, I used your code again.”
“Haley,” he says, his eyes wide with concern. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know, I overstepped. I shouldn’t have gone there without asking. But this idea only came to me last night. After you told me about the snare. And I couldn’t stop thinking about these photographs.”
“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I mean, you shouldn’t have gone there on your own. And after dark. What the hell were you thinking? It’s not safe.”
“Oh, come on Christian,” I scoff. “It’s Chelsea. The streets are lit up like daylight and there’s probably a hundred security cameras trained on every pavement.”
“Don’t brush it off like that,” he scolds. “After last night, there might have been press there. They could have cornered you. And that guy the other day. What if he’d come up to you again?”
“I’d have told him the same thing as I did then. I’m your cleaner. In fact, if he was still watching, me going back makes it all the more believable.”
“Haley, promise me you won’t do anything like that again?”
I know there’s only concern in his request, but an irrational need to argue grips me.
“No, I won’t promise,” I say. “Christian, you’re not my mother or my father. I’m a grown woman, not Ollie’s baby sister. I’m not a kid to be bossed around.”
“I’m not trying to boss you, Haley. I just don’t think you should—”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand. “Stop right there.” He rears back at the gesture, and the assertive tone I’ve found.
While I appreciate Christian’s genuine concern for my wellbeing, it’s dredged up a past I’m still desperately trying to overcome.Because my parents didn’t have much time for us, Ollie and I fell into our own roles. Me, the younger child, a little girl, always needing shelter, protection, kept safe within the rules; while, as the eldest, Ollie blazed through life big and bold, with his devil-may-care attitude, confident and unrestrained.
He only did it because he cared, but Ollie suffocated me. With him always checking up on me—where I went, who I was with—and laying down limits, I lived my earlier life like a caged bird, cherished but confined. It’s left me a timid adult, quick to worry about potential problems, always on alert for threats, wary of stepping outside the boundaries. This past couple of years, I really feel like I’ve pushed beyond that, especially this last one. First left alone in the apartment—and fully responsible for the rent I couldn’t afford after Jack abandoned me—and then living here, most of the time only me and the dogs, I’ve felt more powerful than ever. And I won’t let anyone diminish that. This might be Ollie’s house, but in it I’m living life on my own terms.
“Christian, I may not be a fighter like Sam, or have Rachel’s ability to use words as a weapon, but I’m not stupid. I don’t take stupid risks.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid, Haley. You’re smart. A thinker.”
“Then trust me to think for myself,” I whisper. I’m battling between my need to stand up for myself and the underlying gnawing nervousness as I think of the text I fired off to Rachel twenty minutes ago. There’s a high chance Christian’s not going to be a fan of the tentative plan I’m hatching.
“OK,” he says, thickly. “You know that’s not going to be easy, right?” He looks at me from underneath those dark lashes, too lush and pretty for a man. I nod. “I don’twant something bad to happen to you on my account. God knows there’s enough people who’ve suffered already because of me.”
“But more who are better off for having you around.”
His hand comes up to trace my jaw. I shudder as fingers trail along my neck, follow the curve of my ear, tuck back a rogue strand of hair. He leans in and presses his lips to my forehead.
“Goodnight Haley,” he murmurs. “And thank you.”
