I contemplate not telling him the truth, but I’m not a liar, and he would probably know I was fibbing anyway. “I feel bad for taking over your life,” I tell him.
Without saying anything, he shifts positions to stand in front of me. I have to look up to meet his eyes, and he immediately bends his knees, coming closer. “You are not taking over my life.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he places his finger over my lips. “And if you were, I wouldn’t care. I could take you to a safe house, Harlyn.”
“You tried. I begged you not to.” My words are muffled behind his finger.
He gives me a censoring glare. “You didn’t beg.”
I wrap my fingers around his wrist and pull his hand from my mouth. “I might as well have. I guilted you into this, and it wasn’t fair. The reality is, I wouldn’t take it back, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad about it.”
“You didn’t guilt me into anything. Do you think this isn’t exactly what I wanted? I have you here” —Boone gestures around the room— “where I can make sure you are safe.”
“I’m not trying to argue with you. I just didn’t want to lie.”
With my fingers still gripping his wrist, he reaches up and cradles my face. There’s a roughness to his palms that are so very different than my own. He feels so real. “I won’t lie to you either. Do I feel a sense of duty to protect you because of my job? Yes. I have from the moment you spoke about what happened to your sister, but that isn’t why you are here with me, Harlyn. You are here becauseIwant you here. What I feel goes far beyond a duty to my job.” His eyes search mine as if he’s looking for understanding, and I do understand. I felt an inexplicable pull to him even before he spoke.
“Okay,” I concede, determined not to bring this up again. It feels pointless to keep rehashing the same thing, especially when we come up with the same results—me voicing my concerns and him working to make me feel less guilty. It works for a while, but nothing can erase the fact that I could be putting him in danger and, at the very least, I am disrupting his life.
“Okay,” he agrees softly as if he was prepared to continue the conversation but is just as willing to let it go as I am.
“I should text them before it really does get too late,” I say, shifting the focus to a more manageable topic.
Boone kisses my forehead swiftly before stepping back. “I’ll just be a minute.” He returns quickly with a number scribbled on a Post-it note. “You good if I hop in the shower?”
“Of course, you don’t have to babysit me all the time.”
He doesn’t respond directly to my petulant retort. Instead, he says, “Feel free to join me if you get done before I do.”
I snatch the paper from his fingers, but I don’t bother hiding the smile on my lips. I pick up his phone from the table where I left it and call out before he makes it to the bedroom door, “Hey, can you unlock this?”
“Oh sorry.” He looks down at the screen briefly, then he hands it right back.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to use it? I mean, you won’t get in trouble or anything?”
“You’re good. You wouldn’t be able to access anything related to my work.” He heads back to the bedroom without any concern.
I stall for a few more seconds. I know Liv is going to want answers, and I want answers too, but I don’t have any to give her. I don’t know any more about this guy than I did yesterday, and that sucks. I can warn her that she should continue to stay with Parker.
I type the familiar area code then number into the blank field before the phone has a chance to go dormant again, then I begin a text. The first few lines are easy. I tell her it’s me, but this isn’t my number, then I promise to call her when I can before I falter. There’s so much I need to say, but I don’t want to upend her world the way mine was just a few days ago. I let my hand drop into my lap and tip my head back, trying to think of the right thing to say and coming up empty. Being careful not to hit the send button, I trace my thumb over the top of the screen to keep it awake. Just as I’m about to lift my finger off the screen, an incoming text message pops up, and the screen flips to another conversation.
I read the message almost by accident, but when I scroll up to see the other messages that came before it, it’s with intention.
The thread isn’t terribly long, and the fact that most of the messages are super short make it a quick read.
Boone: Address?
Chloe: The Carrolton on Franklin building 7 apartment C.
Chloe: You free?
Boone: I can be.
Chloe: Tuesday 8?
Boone: Been a while.
Chloe: Too long, work is shit.
