Five understanding nods come back at me, and the sick feeling in my gut settles a little. My brothers get it. Not all of them were hit in the face with the instantaneous connection I felt the moment I saw Verity, but they’ve all experienced the complete rightness and understanding that the person in their life was their person, the one they are meant to be with.
After our moment of unity, Buck calls us together, and we fall into the familiar routine of the first few hours on shift.
TWELVE
VERITY
The house feels empty and cold when I wake up. Being alone should be normal to me, because since my dad left, I’ve always lived alone, but being in Warrick’s house without him feels strange. I’m not sure what time it is, but the sun is fully up, so it’s definitely after eight. Somehow, despite the comfortable sleep and regular naps I’ve had in the last couple of days, I feel more exhausted than ever, and it takes more effort than it should to drag my legs from beneath the comforter and onto the floor.
When I fled my apartment, I didn’t manage to pack any pajamas, so despite feeling safer than I have in months, I still slept in my clothes last night. My skirt and shirt are wrinkled, and my underwear feels clammy and uncomfortable when I finally get upright.
Opening the door an inch, I peer through the gap, checking that the coast is clear before I open it fully and step out onto the landing. Freezing, I strain my hearing, listening for a sound, or anything to alert me that I’m not alone. But the house is silent and missing the familiar energy that Warrick gives off.
Stepping into the bathroom, I use the toilet, then tiptoe downstairs, bracing myself for someone to jump out at me orfor the cops to burst in and arrest me for trespassing. It doesn’t matter that Warrick made me tell him this is our house a dozen times yesterday afternoon, I still feel like I’m doing something wrong by being here.
When I’m sure the house is empty, I head into the kitchen and turn on the faucet, letting the water run for a minute before I take a glass from the cabinet and fill it with water. I’m sure there’s food and bottles of water in the refrigerator, but I feel weird just helping myself.
Bringing the glass to my lips, I drink thirstily, turning to brace my back against the countertop. That’s when I see it. A sheet of white paper with a sleek cell phone and a bright silver key sitting on top of it.
I take a step forward, then retreat, not sure if I want to see what he’s written. It could be a note telling me to pack my shit and get out. If it is, I will, although I’m not sure where any of my things are. He put my tent in the back of his car, but I don’t know what happened to it after he brought me here. He carried my backpack upstairs and put it in my room, but my tent and sleeping bag could be anywhere.
Deciding to face whatever is written on the note head-on, I rush across the kitchen, grabbing hold of the counter to stop myself from touching the key or the cell phone. When my eyes land on the handwritten note, my heart skips a beat, and the air in my lungs bursts out of me in a shocked pant.
Amore mio,
I’ve programmed mine and all of the numbers I think you’ll need into your new cell, and I’ve sent your number to James and Cora.
This is your home, so I expect you to treat it that way. That includes eating as much of the food in the refrigerator as you can. (That’s not a request, it’s an order. I want to see most of that food gone by the time I get home) This key is yours, although I expect you to do as little as possible for the next four days. You need to take it easy and recover.
I miss you already.
My work can be unpredictable, but I’ll call you every day when I can. We don’t take our cells out on calls with us, so if you can’t reach me, it’s because I’m working, never ignoring you, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.
Remember your promise. I’ll see you in four days.
Your Warrick xoxo
How is it possible that he understands me so well when we’ve only known each other for a couple of days? Truthfully, I hadn’t planned on even opening his refrigerator while he wasn’t here, and somehow, he must have known that, because he’s laid out in writing that I need to eat his food so I can’t pretend that I don’t know he’s given me permission—no, ordered me to eat as much as I can.
The idea of being contacted by Cora or James fills me with trepidation. They were both lovely, but making friends here feels permanent, and I have no idea when I’ll have to leave. It’s been years since I was forced to leave behind people I’ve connectedwith, but I still remember the pain of knowing it was unlikely I’d ever see them again.
It’s why I stopped trying to make friends and why I’ve kept people at distance. Until now. Somehow, Warrick has managed to push through my barriers and become important to me so quickly that it feels fake, like I’ve imagined the things I feel and the things he said he feels for me.
But I promised him that I’d still be here in four days, and he’s reminded me of that in his note. Now even the parts of me that are telling me to get my stuff and start walking toward town are being overshadowed by my desire to stay.
I want to be here when he comes home. I want to be here with him, and that scares the hell out of me.
Reaching out for the cell phone, my hand hovers over it, wanting to touch it but unsure if I should. The note says that it’smynew cell phone, and yet, I still can’t seem to actually take it.
Jumping six inches into the air, I stare wide-eyed at the cell when it flashes to life and the nameYour Warrickrolls clearly across the screen. He’s calling me.
Grabbing the cell, I tap the screen to answer the call, then bring it to my ear. “Hello.”
“Amore mio,” he sighs, and the sound acts like a muscle relaxant, making me slump forward into the counter, the corner digging into my stomach as I rest my weight on it.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“You didn’t reply to my text,” he says a little accusatory.
