“It was an accident. That’s all.” I say it a dozen times, but that doesn’t make it true.
No one knows who you are. You’ve been careful. The driver was texting. Or drunk. That’s the only explanation.
But is it? Was it really an accident? Or did someone try to hit me?
By the time I get close to home, my heart has stopped hammering against my ribs. Years of Frank’s training help me focus.
Check for a tail, get somewhere safe, and then decide what to do.
Rather than park on the street, I pull into an underground parking garage half a mile from my studio. I can’t afford the twenty-dollar-a-day rate for long, but with its crumpled rear end, my car is way too noticeable now.
I’m still a little dizzy, but I limp around five different blocks, checking behind me at every turn until I’m sure I’m not being followed. One of the first things Frank taught me was to always pay attention to my surroundings. Just in case.
After a hot shower, I crack a beer and open my ancient laptop. It’s slow as fuck, but half an hour of searching the internet and I’m satisfied Nash Grace is still as off the grid as he can be.
But what about Nathan Rossi?
Holding my breath, I type the name I was born with and click Search.
Half a dozen results pop up. An article in the Chicago Tribune about my junior high track team going to the state championships. Another one when we dominated, and I came home with a handful of medals.
And four separate links to obituaries. I’ve read them so many times, I could probably recreate them from memory—and every word is a lie.
Angelo Rossi was killed on March 30th, when the car he was driving veered off the road and hit a power pole. Also in the car were his wife, Stella, and their two children, Nathan, age twelve, and Mae, age six.
The forty-two-year-old real estate agent…
I slam the laptop shut and reach for my backpack. Bandit’s floppy ears are looking the worse for wear, and every time I pick him up, I worry his days are numbered. But I need to feel close to Mae. To try to remember my mom’s smile. Or my dad’s laugh.
My phone rings, and I jerk up. I fell asleep holding Bandit. His side is damp from my tears. Setting him next to me, I flip open the ancient device. “Hello?”
“Hey. It’s Raelynn. Are we still on for tomorrow?” Her honeyed voice chases the grief into the dark corners of my mind. “If not—”
“I’ll be there first thing. I should have called you earlier. I meant to, but…something came up.” I card my fingers through my hair until I hit the swelling behind my ear. “Shit.”
“Nash? Is everythin’ all right?”
“Fine.” The answer comes too quickly. Too sharply. “Sorry. The roof job today was a real headache.” The lie comes easily after all these years, but this time, the guilt hits hard. “I was about to turn in. Is 9:00 a.m. too early for me to show up tomorrow?”
“That’ll be just fine. You sure you’re…?” She pauses, and I’m hanging on her quiet little inhale, desperate for her next words—whatever they are. “Have a good night, Nash. I’ll see you in the mornin’.”
The call drops, and I’m left wondering how the hell I’m already in too deep. We’ve known each other for three days, and every time I’m around her—or even hear her voice—I want more. It shouldn’t matter that I never date. That I haven’t hooked up with anyone in years. My dick doesn’t get to call the shots.
My hand skims the bulge in my sweatpants, and I groan. Maybe a cold shower will help.
But as soon as I strip out of my clothes in the bathroom, I know I’m fucked. Palming my length, I picture Raelynn’s smile. I can practically feel her pressed against me.
“Nash…”
I tighten my grip, my other hand braced against the shower door. In my fantasy, she’s naked under me, her skin flushed, her hair tangled and spread over the pillow. Thrusting faster, I lean down so my lips are against her ear. “What do you want, sweetness?”
“You,” she gasps. “Only you, Nash.”
With a shout, I lose control, my release hitting the back of the shower and sending me to my knees.
“Enough.” I struggle to my feet and turn on the spray. The frigid water does its job, washing away the mess and calming me so I don’t think about Raelynn again until I crawl into bed.
If only it could stop her from invading my dreams.
