And the people. Theycarein a way I’m not used to seeing from near strangers. You can’t walk by someone on the street here without having them smile and say hi, or try to wrap you up in some small talk. If they see a frown on your face, it’s “What’s wrong, Chef? I’ve got somethin’ that might cheer ya up!”
Hell, I think Lexi has been the least welcoming person in this entire town, and that’s just because I pissed her off by laughing at the name of the restaurant the first time she met me. Before that her eyes were warm, her gaze hot, and I think I might have just found herverywelcoming.
Although—the urge to laugh right now is almost unsettling—I’m not sure I would’ve wanted things to develop between us any other way. Melting her defenses, forcing her to admit to herself the way she wanted to give in to the pull between us, despite her mission to make me miserable, it’s been a ride I’d never get off.
If I weren’t endangering her by staying here.
I soak in the surroundings, the birds flitting between lampposts, the kind people seated at the bistro tables or benches as I pass by the south block of Main for the last time.
It’s what I use to strengthen my resolve, solidify my determination to get out of here and keep them and their way of life safe.
Mob rule wouldn’t go over here. This isn’t the fifties.
Turning along the side of the boutique, the townhouse whose basement I call home is in sight when a car catches my eye. Slowly as I can, I follow its path up Main, watch as it creeps along toward the café, pausing right in front of it, tinted windows too dark to make out who might be inside.
But the sleek body of the town car is distinct enough for me. And I have no trouble making out the license plate.
Blue and yellow.
New York.
Launching into a sprint, I take off for my place, making a mental list of the things I need to take with me to go back. My belongings can be replaced. But I need my stash of cash to get myself there.
As soon as I’m out of town, I can call the number from the letter. It’s burned into my head. I’ll call them, tell them I had to pack up before I could get back to the city, but I’m on my way and I’ll see them there.
Draw them away from the Heights, and the people in it.
It’s not a minute before I’m at my door, chest heaving, hair in my face from the exertion of moving a body with this much mass at the speed I just did, but no time for that.
My hands fumble with the key and I curse myself.
Che cazzo, do better, Amante.
The second it’s in and the knob turns, I throw the door open and bolt toward my room. The one I got to bring Lexi back to just once.
My feet stop moving before the rest of me does when I see I’m too late.
My dad’s old boss is sitting on the drooping couch of my small living room, waiting for me.
“Wilder,” he says, arms extended. “We’ve been trying to reach you, my boy. You’re a hard man to get ahold of.”
TWENTY-TWO
LEXI
“He’shere?” I’ve never heard Rory’s voice so icy, her gaze trained on mine, refusing to look back to her right after she physically flinched when she saw his presence.
“Family reunion,” I say, in a tone that’s way too jovial for the setting. Or it would be, if you didn’t catch the blades lacing my words.
“Did you set a trap for me?” Her voice is low enough Dad probably can’t make out the words, but if I look over there, I just know what I’ll see on his face.
He still loves her, and getting to see her, even if she refuses to look at him back, it’s going to be the highlight of his year.
If I see his eyes watering in disbelief while she won’t deign to look his way, I might actually deck her.
“Because everything revolves around you, right?” I scoff back at her. “God forbid I had Dad over for my own reasons. No, it had to be about you?”
She rolls her eyes, shifting in place, mind racing faster than the industrial food processor in the kitchen back at the diner.
