Page 35 of Beneath the Midnight Sky
“Rowan?” she whispered.
“Hi, little angel. Wanna come on out of there? Or we can stay if you’re feeling like a bath? Shower, maybe?” I asked her quietly.
She looked around, as if just now realizing she was in the bathtub. Tears started falling down her cheeks again. “I’m sorry—I don’t even know…I’m sorry. We have plans. I’m not ready.” She rubbed her cheeks with her fists and tried to steady her erratic breathing.
I reached forward, offering her my hands. “Come here, little angel,” I said gently. She stared at me for a moment before crawling out of the bathtub and into my lap. Leaning against the wall next to the tub, I wrapped my arms tightly around her, letting her sit in my lap as she curled up against my chest.
We sat like that, her in my lap crying, my arms wrapped tightly around her as I quietly told her about my day, the ranch, the horses, Theo bitching because he said his vacation with his family was harder work than he bargained for. Anything I could think of to get her mind off of whatever was going on. After nearly an hour, she looked up at me, her face red and splotchy, and whispered, “I don’t want to be here. Can we go to your house?”
“Of course we can. Do you want to grab anything?” I asked as I slowly stretched my legs out, hoping the blood would flow so I could get up off the floor soon.
Aspen looked around and then shook her head. “Just my phone, I guess,” she replied. She slowly climbed out of my lap and stood there; arms crossed over her chest like she was trying to protect herself from some mysterious force I couldn’t see. Her eyes went wide a moment later. “How did you get in? Did I leave the door unlocked?”
I pushed myself up to my feet, shaking my legs out a bit so they weren’t asleep and tingly anymore. Trying to debate how much I wanted to be honest about right now. She clearly wasn’t in the state of mind to laugh about the fact that I was a psycho, blackmailed Damien, and had a key made weeks ago. So, I lied.
“You must’ve. Door opened right up.” I shrugged and took her hand, leading her out of the bathroom. “So, how about comfort food and movies tonight?” I asked, deciding that changing the subject was the best bet.
“Sounds good to me,” she replied. She looked lost in thought, and I desperately wanted to ask what was on her mind. But I alsodidn’t want to push her, I wanted to comfort her. I wanted her to come to me.
I let go of her hand and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a few paper towels. Walking back toward the front door, I laid them out, cleaning up the spilled coffee.
“Rowan, don’t. I’m sorry. I should’ve—I don’t even remember—” she started. I looked over at her, confusion clear on my face, as she started crying again. I dropped the paper towels and walked over to her, cupping her face in both of my hands.
“Aspen, talk to me. Now.”
She shook her head as much as she could with me holding it in my palms, squeezing her eyes shut. Her hands came up and gripped my wrists tightly as she continued to cry.
“Let me in, little angel,” I whispered. I leaned forward, gently kissing her forehead, then her nose, then her lips. She didn’t react at first, but quickly began kissing me back, gasping for air between small moments of our lips parting.
“Rowan,” she moaned as her hands slid up my arms and down my chest.
I pulled away, still holding her face. “Aspen,” I whispered.
She blinked a few times before focusing on my face.
“Let’s go home, angel,” I said.
She bit her bottom lip, tears still in her eyes, and nodded. I released her face, threw away the paper towels, and took her hand, guiding her out to my truck. She didn’t say a word the entire ride.
We were curledup on my couch together—lying down—her back pressed to my front. We’d eaten an extra cheesy pizza andgarlic breadsticks together while we watched some of her favorite comfort shows. It was about two couples who broke up because the husbands wanted to marry each other. I didn’t watch television often, but I could see why she enjoyed this show—it was funny. A bit of an odd premise, but funny. Once the third episode we’d watched ended, I leaned down, gently kissing her neck.
“I know you want to know what happened, you just don’t want to push me,” she whispered. She was wearing one of my shirts. It looked massive on her small frame, but it made me want to devour her even more than I normally did.
I chuckled. “You would be correct. Am I that transparent?”
She shrugged. “No, you’re just a decent person who seems to care about me, so it makes sense.” We were quiet for a few moments, and I was determined not to be the one to break it. “There,” she swallowed roughly, “—there was a note on my door when I got home from the bakery.”
I felt my entire body tense up. A note? “What did it say?”
She shifted slightly, and I realized she was reaching into her pocket. Her arm came out from the blanket we were under together, and she handed me a crumpled-up piece of paper. Pushing myself up on my elbow, I uncrumpled it.
You think you’re safe, but you couldn’t be further from it, babe.
I’m not finished with you.
I’m coming—be ready.
I crumbledthe note in my hand, my pulse skyrocketing as I tried to remind my brain that I needed to breathe before I got in my truck and did something truly insane. Something that would easily land me in prison if I weren’t careful.
