After a while, he speaks up. “I’ll call Ashton.” Another pause. Then, “Thank you.”
He doesn’t say for what, but I don’t think I need him to. He’s thanking me for the secret. The one I handed him without him needing to ask. Something for him that I haven’t told anybody but my therapist.
I hang up first and stare at my phone as a text pops up.
Kourt:Are you still okay?
My eyes go to the papers on the floor.
Marjorie Dessen.
Me:No
Kourtney:I’ll be over in 20
Kourtney:Alone
*
The address Thomassends me is on the nicer side of Fairbanks. The swanky neighborhood is gated, and you need a code to get in. I should have known that the pro hockey player would set up a meeting at his house. When the Uber driver, Abel, pulls up to the keypad, I get out and enter it, careful not to let him see. He’d been quiet after he picked me up, listening to some golf recap on his Bluetooth and making commentary about how he needed to improve his swing. I tuned him out the best I could, wishing he’dput music on to drown out the sound of my nerves thrumming under my skin.
Knowing it’s too late to back out now, I thank the driver and swipe my clammy hands down my thighs. I stare at the house through the window and all but groan when I see the front door open and Thomas appear.
The driver said, “You’re not going to puke in my car, are you?”
I frown. “No.” At least, I don’t think so.
“Good. Then do me a favor and get out before you do,” he says, locking eyes with me in the rearview mirror. “You’re looking a little too green for my liking, and I just got this thing detailed.”
My frown deepens, but I unbuckle and open the door. Right before I close it, I hear the driver say, “Wait a minute. Is that Thomas Mosk—”
I scurry up the walkway to where Thomas is leaning against his doorjamb and glance up at him through my lashes. “The driver,” I warn quietly, as if the man in the car has supersonic hearing, “recognizes you.”
His brows lift before peering from me to the man still idling in his car on the street. His hand gently wraps around my arm, tugging me inside and closing the door behind us. “I’ll make sure he’s not allowed access into the neighborhood after this.”
My shoulders tighten. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Don’t be,” he says plainly, walking down the foyer and toward the kitchen. “It’s not your fault your car broke down. Any news on it?”
Is he really making small talk like he wasn’t inside me days ago? Yes. Yes, he is. And because I don’t know what else to do, I rub the spot on my arm that tingles from his touch and follow him into the other room. “They said it would cost moremoney than it’s worth to fix, and that I should look into getting a different car.”
I’d known that was going to be the response, but I held out hope that a miracle would happen. When I told Kourtney, she’d offered to help me get a small loan to find something else. That was after Brad shot her down when she said they’d let me have their car to get something bigger for themselves. Turns out, he was not cool with that idea. Not at all.
“I’m sorry,” he says, passing me a bottle of water from the fridge. I fidget with the plastic cap as I stand on the other side of the island, which looks freshly washed. The whole house smells like someone just went through and doused it in disinfectant and air freshener.
I lift a shoulder, looking around the kitchen that I hadn’t spent any time in the last time I was here. It’s spotless. The counters organized. The refrigerator has a specific place for everything and is full of fresh food. Does he cook?
“It’s okay. Fairbanks has cheap transit. The bus schedule is easy to figure out and goes everywhere I need.”
His teeth grind, and he looks away like he doesn’t like that idea. He’ll have to get in line, though. Kourtney has been telling me what a horrible idea it is to ride the bus instead of saving my money to get a used car. But since neither of us has the funds for something new, and adding a small car loan to my name isn’t in the cards for me, it’s all I have.
“Where is Oreo?” I ask, searching the room for the kitten that may be today’s only saving grace. There are a few cat toys scattered on the floor, but no sign of the feline.
Thomas props his hip against the counter. “I assume she’s destroying another one of my shirts. Her favorite pastime seems to be breaking into my closet and climbing the clothing until her talons poke holes into the fabric.”
I wince, assuming his wardrobe cost him a pretty penny. He doesn’t seem like the type to buy his clothes at Walmart. “At least she’s cute?” I offer with a tiny smile.
He studies my face a little too closely, his eyes raking over every square inch. It makes me wish I’d worn my hair down to hide behind it. Thomas may not be touching me, but I feel the heat all the same.
