Grabbing it, I flick the safety on and tuck it into the back of my waistband. White light spills inside the house, catching my attention, and I peer outside whilst forcing down a swallow.
Two black SUVs are parked in our driveway, and there’s a third perched at the end.
Jesus Christ, if any of our neighbours look out the window, they’ll think we’re harbouring the fucking president.
A knock on my door sounds behind me, and I glance over to find Saint at the threshold. His arms are gripping the doorframe above him as he looks right at me.
I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit the sight of him is utterly devastating. Heat roars to life again as my gaze greedily takes him in.
I wet my lips, preparing to ask him how long he’s been standing there, but he beats me to it.
“The guys are coming in to pack up your shit. Take only the things you need. Whatever you leave behind isn’t making its way back to you.”
I frown. “Where are we going? And what exactly does that mean?”
His hands slide along the doorframe, gripping the sides as he leans into them, but he doesn’t step inside. “Somewhere no one can find either of you. Do as I say, Indie. Don’t fuck about.”
I cross my arms, popping my hip out as I look at him. “Do you lack fucking manners? A please wouldn’t go amiss, you know.”
Looking and listening to us both, you would never be able to tell six years were stolen from us.
That heartbreak rained down like the storm cloud that was above us the last time we exchanged words.
We were so madly and utterly obsessed with each other, to the point I would sometimes question if it was healthy.
It was a sickness I didn’t want the cure for.
I wanted to spend my dying days with him, until something evil poisoned us and corroded my mind for a long time.
Those feelings are still there for me, secured deep inside me with a padlock and fortress cast around them, for my own wellbeing.
But they’re rattling off their chains, doing everything they can to unleash themselves.
Loving someone’s shadow is a sure way to drive yourself to complete insanity, and I allowed myself a taste each and every day by watching that CCTV.
It would be foolish of me to act on them, especially when I have no idea how he feels.
Thatsmirk flickers at the corner of his lips. “Hurry up.”
He pushes off the frame as his boots thump off the hardwood floor.
I flex my jaw; he seems utterly unruffled at our encounter. I’m ready to curse him out when I hear the faint rumble of his “please”filtering through the hallway.
My own triumphant smile threatens to come free, my heart twinging as his smile keeps skipping around in my memory.
Groaning, I rush around the room, grabbing two suitcases from under my bed and throwing them on top of the mattress. I pile clothes and underwear into one, basically loading over half my wardrobe in it. With still no idea where we’re going, or for how long, I can’t take chances.
A high-pitched melody singing through the room has my hand freezing midway from zipping the case, and I rush over to the dresser, grabbing my phone and putting it on speaker.
Here goes nothing.
“I’m almost home, got the stuff. You’ll need to help me haul it—”
“Gina, Saint’s here.”
Silence bleeds through the phone, and I glide my thumb back and forth against my lips, waiting for her to freak the fuck out.
“Would he happen to be responsible for the fleet of blacked-out cars leading up to our street?”
