I take her cheek in my uninjured hand and use the thumb from my other hand to lightly draw a line along the column of her throat where the red marks are already beginning to darken after only a few hours. The dark red hues look like paint I could wipe away with my fingers, but I can’t.
“Rae, I’m so sorry,” I tell her, jaw tight. I force myself to relax. “You’re right. I was mad. I’ve never been so angry in my life.” I gulp. “When I saw what he did, I felt like I was going to lose control. I wanted to kill him, Raegan. I really did. So I had to walk away. But I never meant to walk away from you.”
Her lips part, and I want so badly to lean in further to meet them with mine. I sense her heart beating faster, and when I trail my hand down her arm, I feel her tremble.
Then her eyebrows lift and she shoots to her feet. “Welp, I guess we cleared that up. You’re good to go.” Her tone has suddenly gone from crestfallen to chipper in a matter of seconds. And the desire I thought I saw has dissipated.
We’re so close her torso is right in line with my face. I want to grab her hips and pull her into my lap. Luckily my brain catches up to my dick and I stand. I know she felt whatever that moment was between us, but right now she’s choosing to ignore it, so I have to respect that.
I lean past her to open the door, and I catch the most glorious scent in the world: coconut shampoo and the underlying sweetness of her natural scent.
I linger and breathe her in for a beat too long, and her voice has to snap me back to reality.
“I remember the first time I opened a door,” she teases.
It’s disorienting, like the banging of symbols right in my ear, but I recover quickly. The door opens out into the hall, and we’re met with the cool circulated air of the AC system.
Before she leaves, I grab her arm and gently trace my thumb against the goosebumps on her skin. “Did you go to the clinic?”
Raegan tilts her head and emphatically answers, “Yeah, of course. I’m fine.”
She leans back a bit, creating more space between us, and suddenly I’m cold, a massive contrast to the heat we just shared in my tiny office.
“Are you sure? Rae, he choked you.”
Her hand reaches for her throat but stops, instead choosing to wave flippantly and brush my comment away. “It’s fine. It wasn’t very long. Aidan got there just in time.” Then her eyes narrow. “Did you tell him about Patrick?”
“No.” I answer truthfully. “He was just in the right place at the right time.”
She nods curtly and turns to go. This time I let her.
Before she reaches the swinging door that leads to the front end of the shop, I ask her one last question. “Are you coming back to my house tonight?”
Raegan shakes her head and answers without turning. “I’m gonna go home. Cleetus will be worried.”
Chapter Nine
RAEGAN
I’ve been hiding my panic since Patrick’s threat as he was dragged off by Sheriff Simmons. As much as I wanted to confront Jamie directly about the odd warning, I found myself getting distracted by Jamie’s distress.
‘You know what he is, don’t you?’
Something has been off about him lately, like there’s a demon he’s fighting that resides just below his skin. I want so badly to reach out and help him in any way I can, but Jamie clearly doesn’t want to address it. Instead, he’s focusing all of his energy on me. Clearly we’re very similar in that regard.
After leaving the clinic, I tried to return to work, but Ethan told me to go home because of the influx of customers coming into the store just to ask about the incident. So instead, I gathered my courage and headed for the coffee shop, but talking with Jamie didn’t make me feel any better.
Our interaction only made me more confused. Ever since that first incident with Patrick, being around Jamie feels like standing too close to a hot stove. It’s a confusing feeling, because the warmth draws me in with a false sense of comfort, but I know if I step too close I’ll just get burned. I have to remind myself thatthis odd attraction I’ve been feeling is only temporary. Soon this upheaval of normal life will pass, and Jamie and I will go back to the way things were.
But as I’m leaving Double Double, I notice it’s becoming harder to breathe. It’s like Patrick’s hands are still locked around my throat and I can’t escape them. I feel a wave of nausea come over me as I reach the corner of 4th and Main, so I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but when I open them again the brightness of the sun sends a sharp pain behind my sockets. It’s like a spotlight shining on my panic. I walk quickly around the back of the library as vehicles circle the roundabout to my right.
Once I find my car, I slip inside, twist the key, yank the gear shift into drive, and pull out hastily, running a stop sign.
My breaths come a little easier inside my small sedan than out on the street, but I need to be in my safe place: in my bed and under the covers, door shut and windows closed. It’s only eleven A.M. and it already feels like the longest day of my life. I just want to escape the outside world and seek refuge where no one can see me—where no one can ask me if I’m okay, because I’m not.
I speed past the pharmacy and my old high school, and in less than five minutes I’ve made it to my apartment. I rush up the stairs and head inside, quickly locking the door behind me.
I’m home.
