“Bonnie.” He touched her chin to lift her head. It took a second, but she finally looked at him. “I said that to protect you.”
Confusion shadowed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
He fucking hated talking about Monty. But if he wanted Bonnie in his life, he had to be honest with her. She needed all the information, not just the bits he was willing to part with. “Monty called today.”
Her eyes widened. “From prison?”
“Yeah. He gave me some bullshit reason. Said he was checking that I was good. He made sure to mention Amber Ridge andrelationships. So I told him I didn’t have any relationships.”
“Do you think he knows about us?”
There was that damn squeeze of his chest again. “He was pretty clear in his wording. He obviously knows I’m dating someone. I was thinking…”
“What?”
Fuck, he wasn’t even sure what he was thinking. “Maybe we should lay low for a while…just to be safe.”
“Lay low.” Her gaze shifted between his eyes, brows tugged together. “What does that mean?”
He slipped a thumb beneath her shirt and grazed her skin. “It means, for the moment, our relationship is here. Away from watchful eyes.”
She nodded, her expression completely unreadable.
He tightened his hold on her. “What are you thinking?”
“Maybe tonight we should sleep in our own apartments. It’s been a long day, and we both have a lot going on.”
Panic started to crawl up his chest. Panic that she could be considering ending things. Panic that he could lose the best damn thing in his life. “Is that what you want?”
She nodded, but there was uncertainty in her eyes that was in conflict with her words. “We can see how we feel tomorrow. When the world gets loud, I need time to think.”
He didn’t want to leave her. But if she needed space, he didn’t want to take that from her.
“Okay.” He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Lock your doors after me, Bon. And if you need me…I’ll be here in a second.”
She nodded, her eyes holding him hostage for a moment.
Instead of pulling her closer like he wanted, he released her. Forced himself to step back. And the second he was out of her apartment, he felt it. The suffocating quiet that only came when he wasn’t with Bonnie.
Bonnie gasped,her eyes shooting open as she sat up, nausea swirling in her belly.
A dream. It was just a dream.
But it had felt so real.
She dropped her head into her hands, but she couldn’t get the nightmare out of her head. She’d opened her apartment door and Dean was standing there, pale and bleeding…and in his hands, the mouse’s head.
Oh, God. She really might be sick.
She swallowed the bile trying to crawl up her throat. It wasn’t real. Dean was gone. It was just a dream.
She glanced beside her to the empty bed, suddenly wanting—craving—Zane’s presence. But he wasn’t there, because of her. Because she’d suggested they sleep in their own apartments.
Why? Because he’d asked to keep their relationship private? Because when he’d suggested Monty might know about her, she’d become scared that she might be used against Zane? And she couldn’t handle something else, another tragedy, being her fault.
Indie had told her to stop running. And here she was, doing it again. Running from this perfect man just down the hall. Allowing herself to suffer alone when she didn’t have to.
God, what was wrong with her? Zane was safety and comfort and strength, and she needed all of that. At eighteen years old, she had an excuse for making bad decisions. She’d been young and hurting.
