Page 93 of Sliding into Love
I told myself it was just normal business stuff. Privacy. Boundaries.
But what if it's more than that?
The vegetables are starting to burn. I turn off the heat automatically, my body moving while my mind spins. I look at Royce's phone again, seeing several missed calls from this Carver person, plus a few text messages I don't open. It feels like a violation to look, but?—
No. I won't do that. I won't invade their privacy based on one confusing phone call.
But I also can't ignore what I heard.
I pace the kitchen, my anxiety building. Part of me wants to chase Royce down right now, demand an explanation. Another part wants to pretend this never happened, that I never answered their phone.
And a smaller, quieter part of me is terrified of what the truth might be.
The door opens and Royce walks in, holding up a bottle of soy sauce triumphantly. "Found it! They had the good kind on sale, so I grabbed two bottles…” They stop, seeing my face. "Kenny baby? What's wrong?"
I point to their phone. Their expression shifts from cheerful to guarded.
"Your phone kept ringing," I say quietly. "I thought it might be an emergency."
"And you answered it." It's not a question. Their voice is carefully neutral.
"Someone named Carver called. Multiple times. He said something about a group that needs to be moved. A volatile situation. That lives are at stake."
Royce goes very still. "What exactly did he say?"
"That he needed you to coordinate a transfer. Tonight. Within the next few hours. He told me not to tell anyone else. Said the fewer people who know, the safer everyone is."
The silence stretches between us. Royce's face is unreadable, that mask of control firmly in place. It's the same expression they wear when negotiating with difficult sponsors or handling a PR crisis.
It scares me more than anything else could.
"Royce." My voice cracks slightly. "What is he talking about? What group? What transfer?"
They close their eyes briefly, and when they open them, I see something that looks like resignation. "This isn't… I can't explain right now. I need to call Carver back first."
"No." I move to block their path to the phone. "No, you need to explain to me what's going on. Right now."
"Kenny—“
"Is it drugs? Is that what this is? Some kind of trafficking operation? Because I heard what he said, Royce, and it sounds bad.” The questions pour out of me.
"Stop!” Their voice cuts through my spiraling panic. "Just stop. It's not drugs. It's not trafficking. It's nothing illegal."
"Then what is it?! Because from where I'm standing, it sounds pretty fucking suspicious!"
"I know how it sounds, but you have to trust me. I'm not doing anything illegal or immoral. I'm helping people, Kenneth. That's all I can tell you right now."
"That's not enough!" I run my hands through my hair, feeling like I'm losing my mind. "You're asking me to just trust you blindly while someone calls you about moving ‘groups’ in volatile situations? Do you understand how insane that sounds?"
"I do. And I know I'm asking a lot." They take a step toward me, and I see the conflict in their eyes. "But there are people depending on me right now. People who need help. I have to call Carver back and figure out what's happening. And then, after that's handled, I promise I will explain everything. But right now, I need you to trust me."
I want to. God, I want to.
But my mind keeps replaying that phone call, keeps imagining scenarios that make my stomach turn.
"How do I know you're not in danger?" I ask quietly. "How do I know you're not involved in anything that could hurt you?"
Their expression softens slightly. "Because I've been doing this for years, and I'm very good at staying safe. I have protocols, Kenneth. Security measures. I'm not reckless."
