Page 18 of Night So Silent
ME (9:21PM): Random, right? Sorry I didn’t respond sooner. Sergei said the road to your house was already a disaster, otherwise I would’ve come back. But thanks for sending him to the airport, his house is way nicer than the concourse.
BRETT (9:23PM): Babes…I didn’t tell Serg anything about your flight.
I stare at the screen blankly while a tiny chill runs up my back.
ME (9:25PM): Did Colson?
BRETT (9:26PM): It’s possible. You know Colson…
Colson fucking Lutz…
Colson is what you might call…extreme?Contrary to popular belief, he can be the most caring person in the world, but it’s often to a fault. Add that to his complete lack of tact, so when he gets an idea, you never know what’s going to happen. And this reeks of something he would do.
I’m deciding whether or not to text him when there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” I call.
The door opens and Sergei appears. His daunting figure lumbers past me to the dresser on the opposite side of the room.
“Do you need anything?” He asks over his shoulder as he opens the top drawer.
“No, thanks. Everything’s great.” I hesitate, but then decide to just go for it. “Did Colson send you to the airport?”
Slowly, Sergei turns around and cocks his head with a curious expression.
“Brett didn’t ask you to pick me up because of the storm?” I clarify.
“No.”
“Was it Colson?” I smirk.
“No.”
“Then how did you know to come get me?”
“Planes don’t fly in these storms. When Lutz said you were leaving this evening, I knew you would be stranded. An hour later and you wouldn’t be able to leave the airport.”
Hmm.
“Well, in that case, thank you,” I concede. “I’m still glad to be here rather than stuck in the airport. Your house is very nice.”
Sergei gives a slight nod. “I am glad you’re here, too.” Then he turns and disappears into the bathroom.
I go back to my reading, pleasantly surprised by his impromptu compliment. I can still hear the wind howling outside and I’m overcome with relief when I think about how I could’ve been trapped in the tiny concourse in Montrose instead of being here, underneath these toasty blankets. But I don’t have long to dwell on it before Sergei emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later.
My eyes dart up and my mouth opens at the sight of him before I promptly snap it shut again.
Holy. Fuck.
I chide myself silently. Does thinking a curse count? I press my lips together, stifling the nervous laugh threatening to escape.
I listen to horrific stories all day and think nothing of it, but somehow, I’m wholly unprepared for the sight of this blonde Sasquatch dressed in nothing but a pair of cream sweatpants. Granted, he looks way better than Sasquatch. His wavy hair hangs loose down his shoulders, free from his tight bun, and he’s covered in vast spans of black ink that snake over hisshoulders and down his arms. I track him across the room as he approaches the bed and reaches for the comforter.
“Wait.” My heart skips a beat as he tosses the covers open. “What are you doing?”
Sergei pauses and glances up. “Going to bed.”
“Here?”
