“I really don’t,” I argue, lowering my voice. “I’m not Jesse or Will. Or even Naz. I’ve been in a crowded airport all morning and not one person has recognized me. Not even the people who checked my ID and saw my name. It’s a non-issue.”
And thank goodness. I prefer it this way. I could not live the way Jesse does, being bombarded everywhere he goes. He can’t do anything for himself or even go for a walk or anything without a team.
“This isn’t negotiable,” Blake says. “You’re still you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, if that’s what you’re worried about. I know Francis had a lot of less than stellar opinions of me, but I can actually take care of myself. And my condo building has security.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then a sigh.
“I’m sure you have connections with our building’s management that you can exploit to spy on my comings and goings.”
“Mr. Silvan?—”
“Mr. Holland, I’m boarding now. I’ll check in with you soon.” I hang up before he can negotiate further conditions.
I find my seat by the window and lean into the tiny stream of air conditioning, feeling claustrophobic surrounded by so many people. I didn’t realize how spoiled I’ve gotten. But as people file past, walking past me like I’m just another face in the crowd, stowing their overhead luggage and reading the seat numbers to find their place, a sense of peace settles over me.
I’ve been a lot of places, but I’ve never really gone anywhere on my own. Until recently, it never occurred to me that was a problem.
It’s a little daunting, but I need to learn how to be alone. How to sleep alone, how to walk the streets alone, how to cope alone. My eyes water and I take a slow, deep breath.
The seat beside me creaks. I glance over and immediately freeze.
Eric drops into the aisle seat with a carry-on at his feet and a tight smile that tells me he’s expecting me to be pissed.
“You have to be kidding me.”
“Relax,” he says easily. “I promise I’m not here to babysit.”
“You say that, but?—”
“Mr. Holland made himself very clear. I’m not here to report your every move to management like Mr. Tuft would haverequested. I’m not here to have or give opinions. I’m not here to make suggestions. Or make rules. Or lecture. I don’t care who you sleep with or where you go. I am only here for protection,” he says. “And maybe conversation, if you want it. I’m a good listener.”
I study him for a moment. He meets my gaze evenly. There’s no judgement there, no show of authority. Just a presence, that I have to admit, is maybe a little comforting.
“Fine,” I mutter, turning back to the window.
I look out the window as the plane taxis down the runway, at the last piece of Raleigh I’ll see in a while. Raleigh blurs past, familiar and unwelcome all at once. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know what version of myself will return.
I just know I can’t stay.
The plane lifts off and as the ground falls away, the fist in my chest loosens just a little. I’m leaving behind the version of myself that keeps shrinking to fit the space someone else made for me.
I can do this.
ELEVEN
WILL
Six weeks is long enough to forget the sound of someone’s breathing beside you, and short enough that your body still reaches for them in the dark.
I’ve learned that the hard way.
Sometimes I wake with a start and turn my body toward where I expect him to be, the way I would if he were having a nightmare. How does he handle those now? Does he sleep better or worse without me? I’ve been agonizing over it for weeks, especially in the middle of the night when I can’t sleep without the weight of him next to me.
There have been times over the last few years that Ari has tried to separate himself from me, and he’d make it a few days, but the terrors that wake him at night always brought him back. It’s sick how much I relied on his trauma to keep him. How even in his worst moment, I told myself he’d be back, because he needed me.
Turns out it was the other way around all along.
