She followed me thankfully as I opened the door and led her inside. “Why am I here, Alex?”
“It’s safe, no one knows it exists,” I told her. “You can sleep and get some rest. I’ll go and pack your bag. This is going to be your home for a little while.”
“Why?”
“Just…please, Orla, trust me, okay?”
She nodded, but I knew she would try to get in touch with Sheridan and she’d surely tell her.
“I don’t even have my phone!”
I smiled, knowing I didn’t have one in my house.
“Good.”
Turning, I closed the door behind me and locked her inside before I headed back to the clubhouse to figure out a way to protect her.
The less she knew the better.
Orla
I tried the door, but it was locked. This fucker locked me in and I had no phone to call someone.
Was he fucking serious?
Anger took over and I looked around for something to throw through the window, passing into a dining room with a long table, large leather backed chairs along the edge of the table. I ran my fingers over the rich stained wood of the table and looked through the room. It didn’t look used. Did he have people over to eat at this table?
Instead of getting angrier, I found myself more intrigued as to what was in his house. How didn’t I knowabout this place? He was always at the clubhouse so I’d assumed he lived there, but this place was amazing.
Moving through double doors, I came into the kitchen. A state of the art kitchen with marble countertops, two kitchen stools at the bar were what I saw first. The oven and microwave sat on the wall, a toaster, jug and air fryer sat on the counter top. Every appliance was black and silver. Curiosity got the better of me and I opened the large black and silver fridge.
Beer.
Typical.
His pantry had a few staples but nothing too crazy, so that sealed it for me. He didn’t live here, he lived at the clubhouse. Why would he tell me this was his place?
I moved out through another door and down a hallway. A large entertainment centre sat inside, a big TV with a playstation hooked up. I saw the podium where he had VR set up too.
Boys.
Moving further down the hall, I came to a room. It was a guest room by the looks of it, because it was void of anything aside from a bed that was made up and a bedside table. I opened the closet and saw nothing.
I continued down to another room and when I opened that door, I knew this was his room. His masculinecologne was heavy in the air, and his bed wasn’t made. Moving through the room, I looked in the closet and saw a couple outfits, leather, jeans, all the staples really. I got up on his bed and laid down on his pillows, loving the feeling of the softness and yet the firmness of the bed underneath me. His pillows smelled like him and I inhaled deeply, cuddling into them. My hands shifted under the pillow, when I hit something cold and hard.
Sitting up, I moved the pillow to see his gun there.
I shook my head as I picked it up so I didn’t accidentally shoot myself and opened his bedside drawer. Inside, I placed the gun, accidentally hitting something in the back. I reached in to move it when I felt a wooden box. Pulling it out, I held it in my hands, a latch on the side, and an engraving on the top of a claddagh.
I traced the pattern with my fingertips, remembering the ring he’d given me in high school. Tears pricked at my eyes as I lifted the latch and looked inside. My breath caught when I saw the ring I’d thrown at his face when I had broken it off with him, thinking that our relationship had been too serious for our age and I needed him to back off.
Worst mistake of my life.
I lifted out the strip of photos from the fair where we made out in the booth, looking over our sweet andinnocent faces. We’d had no clue that just weeks after that we would be over. Another photo sat at the bottom of the box, and I lifted it to see my younger self. I hadn’t had my first tattoo then, my skin was a clear canvas as I looked down at Bear. He’d taken the photo after I’d been making out with him, my lips were pink and swollen, but I saw the love I had in my eyes for him.
A love I’d never recovered from, no matter how many times I ignored it when we were close in proximity. Tears streamed down my face steadily as I closed the box, letting it sit heavy in my lap as I remembered the days leading to our break up.
I was about to put the box down when I heard the telltale sound of the front door opening. Panic set in that I was in his bed and looking at his very personal items.
