Chapter One
Neal
There she goes again. The pretty one. I hate that I have such simple words to describe her, but my mind these days, it’s a blur. But this one, she stands out like the sun on a rainy day, the warmth of her smile and kind eyes washing over the entirety of the street every time she passes on her way out of the sleek black limo.
In another world, I would’ve approached her, charmed her maybe. Held her hand, caressed her cheek, and been trusted to be close to her.
But I can’t do that anymore. I’m… I’m nothing. So, I shrink back into the shadows and watch, the cool October winds biting into my flesh as I stare out. I’m not looking forward to tonight out here on the streets. Even with the crowds around me, no one pays me any mind. My lips quirk a little as I watch a young guy, his black suit tailored to the nines, stride past me. He doesn’t even notice me as he moves down the sidewalk.
I could be that person again. Maybe. But why bother? This is what I am now. I nod at the suit as he shuffles past me, the phone at his ear bright and glowing in the rapidly darkening evening.
Her voice catches my attention tonight, perhaps because she’s out later than usual, her pretty face coiled into a frown as she leans against the limo. I can’t help myself. I take a few steps out of the shadow, my skin crawling as yet more professionals pass at close range. I prefer the shadows, where they can’t see me.
But now they do. If I had the time, I might’ve registered that no one seems that affected, other than myself, but that’s of no importance now. Something is wrong. I can see the distress on her face as she leans in and chats with her driver.
My lips do that thing again, the tightness, pulling at my cool cheeks. Her eyes are so bright, their ice blue nature so unusual and interesting that I can see her from here. Usually they appear soft, warm as she sweeps over the sidewalk on her way into the skyscraper at her back. But now, things are wrong. Her cheeks are hollow, her jaw clenched.
“You can’t do this; you know we’re almost there. The contract will be ready by the end of the week. I’m taking it home to finish it.”
Begging? I hadn’t pictured her begging anyone, not this woman who was so in control of everything. I lean in, my ears straining.
“No, don’t do that. I can send the limo now. Just promise me that you get in.” There’s something like fear in her tone. Or maybe, I think as I tilt my head, desperation. What an interesting development. Once upon a time, it had been my job to understand people, to read their bodies, and hers, it spoke of desperation or unhappiness. Why do my arms ache to do something about it so badly?
I see people all day long, not that they see me, so why this woman? Why now? I watch as she pounded on the roof of the limo, pushing a fake smile onto that lovely face.
Lovely… Yes, I liked that so much more than calling her pretty. She was lovely. I had always assumed she was in her late twenties, early thirties, by the way she moved and acted within her environment. There was a clear tie to money and success. I hoped she had both.
Something cold crept up my spine as she stared out after the limo pulling away, her fingers knitting tight against thelong black coat she had recently started wearing. Her bright-blonde hair was tied up in one of those fancy buns that women always seemed to pull off so effortlessly, even if it looked like a confusing mess to me.
With a dejected sigh, she raised her chin and looked out across the street. Was she searching for someone or something? I followed her gaze but saw nothing. She was simply looking, a strange slip of vulnerability flickering over face as she did.
As if deciding something, she stepped off the curb and began to cross traffic on the main street of downtown Chicago.
She shouldn’t be walking home. No woman should. It was dangerous and cold. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t. My feet were moving down the sidewalk before I could stop myself, my layered puffy jacket tight across my chest.
Fear clogged my mind and washed away any concerns I might have had as I made my way down the sidewalk after her. I remained far back enough that I wouldn’t spook her. I wanted to make sure that she got wherever she was going safely. She shouldn't be here.
Darkness crept over us, and after a stream of buses cut between the woman and me, I grew frustrated. She was so far ahead now, the bob of her blonde nearly out of sight. Something deep in my gut twisted.
I needed to walk away; I should walk away. But I walked these streets every day, and I knew what this corner sometimes brought. There was another there, more aggressive than me.
Dangerous.
Too dangerous for her.
“Ma’am,” I said, my voice coming out an indiscernible croak. I cleared my throat, picking up to a slow jog. “Ma’am!”
She turned her head but didn’t see me. Maybe she wasn’t looking. Either way, danger continued to lurk.
A car suddenly swerved out in front of me, and I stopped short of slamming into the hood. “Get out of the way, you bum!” the man screamed.
I hovered there, trying to decide how to get around the car as quickly as possible. The driver made the choice for me though, shooting forward once more. But now, she was gone.
Maybe she was safe, I reasoned, standing there. I glanced down at my still-outreached hands. They were dirty. I always attempted to keep myself clean, but it was hard. This time of year was difficult for someone who spent most of their life living out of a bus. I rubbed my hands against my thighs, knowing that it would only make a small difference at this point.
I should turn around. I needed to get some food and go to bed. To forget about her.
I turned, slowly, my worn-out sneakers making no noise on the Chicago sidewalks. Just as I took my first step, I heard her scream. My decision was immediate, and I took off, my flannel shirt fluttering around me as I chased down the source of that scream. Adrenaline pumped through my veins, making my mind clearer than it had been for…I didn’t know how long.
