I take a couple of moments to compose myself, then clean up after myself, and hide the heroin in the back of the cabinet. Once I’m certain there’s nothing to see, I turn on my heel and walk out of the bathroom.
The clothes I laid out for myself before the bath consist of a pair of sweatpants, a fitted long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of sneakers that just seem comfortable enough. Arlo did all the shopping for me, making sure all of the clothes are comfortable and easy to move in.
The apartment we’re in is small, just a room bigger than the studio where Luna died. It’s in the same building, just one floor above. It’s cozy, and we have everything we need, but I miss Arlo’s penthouse. I miss waking up to him playing piano or just spending time with him.
I wish all of this would end already.
It’s going to happen soon. I can feel it on my fingertips; the end of Paul Simmons is near. Alexander is dead, Nelson is confined in chains, and the other two can continue hiding, but they should know that no one can hide from the Ghost.
Just the thought itself fills my chest with pride, blooming inside me. My man is that powerful, and being by his side does make me feel more confident in everything we’re about to endure.
Quickly, I toss on the clothes that are spread on the bed before me, sliding into the sneakers. I need to get to the meeting in time but stop dead in my tracks when I glance outside.
My face splits into a grimace, and a small groan follows. It’s already too dark. The meeting should be done by now, and I missed it. I know Arlo won’t mind since I fell asleep, but I still feel terriblefor missing out on potentially important discussions.
The front door of the apartment opens, and I sit up straight on the bed. I can tell from the footsteps it’s Arlo, and my heart flutters when he enters the bedroom.
He’s wearing all black — a turtleneck with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of pants, and a belt to tie it all together. A pair of Dr. Marten boots is on his feet, the expensive watch on his wrist glimmering in the light.
His hair falls down his shoulders, slicked back slightly. And those damned eyes — holy shit. When he looks at me, everything around me disappears. He’s all I can focus on, all I can think of. Hell, if it were possible, I’d breathe him in until I can’t take it anymore.
He strolls toward me, immediately bending down to press a kiss to my forehead, my eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. I bask in the moment while his scent surrounds me. All of my worries melt away momentarily, and I’m at peace.
“You alright, butterfly?”
Arlo’s soft voice reaches my ears, and my eyes open. He steps back a little, his eyes glued on me as he removes his wristwatch. I’m not sure why such a simple action gets the butterflies in my stomach running and going wild, but it does.
“Yes,” I say. “I slept through the meeting. I’m sorry.”
Arlo chuckles, walking over to the bedside table and putting the watch on it. “Don’t worry about it. Rest up,” he offers a small smile, then pulls out his wallet from his pocket, setting it next to the watch.
My eyes follow the movement just as something falls out of his pocket. I blink, brows creasing together, as I try to understand what I’m seeing.
“You dropped something.”
Arlo looks down, then bends to pick it up. He offers me a sheepish smile, then sits right next to me. My heart instantly warmsup when I see that it’s the blue ribbon he’d given me before I was taken. I lost it at some point and haven’t seen it since.
It’s worn out, dirty in some places, and clearly torn. It’s no longer the pretty bow that used to be on my head, and instead it’s something that Arlo seems to be holding onto.
“You still have that.” I flick my eyes upward. “Why?”
“When you were kidnapped, this was the first thing I found. I was holding onto it because, in a way, it was my sanity line. It was all I had to keep holding on. It was something uniquely yours, and just keeping it on my wrist or in my pocket gave me the strength to push forward.”
“Baby…”
Arlo’s soft smile is like a ray of sunshine. I’ll never know how so many people are terrified of him when he looks at me like this. He looks at me like I’m the only person that matters, like he’d burn this world down for me — and he fucking did.
He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, stroking my cheek with his index finger. The motion is so soft, so tender, and I’m left a puddle, a putty mess in his hands.
“I love you, butterfly.” The raw emotion in his voice tugs on my heartstrings. “What happened back then is all my fault. You’ve gone through shit that you never should’ve experienced because I was careless. It’s my fault, and I need you to know that nothing will ever happen to you again. I vow to you, on my life, no one will ever lay their hands on you again. I’ll protect you with my life.”
“No, we’re not doing this again.’’ I take his hand in mine, the ribbon resting between our palms. “It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I shouldn’t have gone with you. It happened, and it’s no one’s fault but Simmons’.”
Arlo’s jaw clenches at the mention of Paul, his hand tightening around mine. It’s not painful, but the grip is for him. For him to know I’m here and I won’t be anywhere.
This would probably be a terrible time to tell him I’ve been having flashbacks. At this point, I can’t tell what’s real, what’s a part of my imagination, or simply a nightmare. The things I’ve gone through the second time are foggy, and in a way, I’d prefer for them to stay like that.
Remembering it all now will be terrible for me. The pain and hurt it took years to heal will slash through the same old scars, tearing into them and creating a wound so big that no one will be able to heal it. I won’t be able to heal it.
