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Or longer.
“I’m coming, baby,” I mutter, slipping the phone back into my pocket and firing up the engine of my bike, backing it out of the driveway.
It’s a ten-minute drive from the compound to Lennon’s apartment and I’m about to do it in five.
Chapter Twenty
Lennon
I’m fucking restless.
Every time I try to do something, my mind is quickly drawn back to the night at Club Voodoo, going over the things I can remember and obsessing about the things I can’t.
And the worst part?
The rest of the world is just going on like normal.
My life feels like it’s been flipped completely on its head and yet, everyone else is just walking around like it’s a perfectly normal Sunday morning.
And it pisses me off.
I want the life I was just starting to build back.
I want to dance around my apartment without a care in the world.
I need to lose myself in the kitchen, baking up treats for my customers without looking over my shoulder.
I need, desperately, to go back to the girl I was before somebody slipped something in my drink.
But I fear she’s gone.
How do I go on living my life without looking at each person like a threat?
Sighing, I flop down on the couch and drape my arm over my belly. I really hate being alone right now. Morgan had to leave this morning to get back to Arizona. She didn’t want to. In fact, she threw a bit of a fit about it but I told her there was nothing she could do here and that losing her job wouldn’t help anything. Then, I insisted to Dalton that I should come home and get on with my life. Anything to feel even a semblance of normal. But now that I’m here, everything feels weird. It’s like a haze has been dropped over everything and what was once my salvation, feels like a prison cell.
Because, the truth is, I’m safe here.
It’s out there, in the world, where someone got to me.
The sound of a motorcycle fills my apartment and I get off the couch, padding over to the window that faces the alley. Dalton pulls up behind my Jeep and kills the engine. I watch as he climbs off and haphazardly tosses his helmet onto the seat. It almost falls off.
But he doesn’t give a shit.
He’s already marching over to the staircase that leads to my front door.
A man on a mission.
The sight of him, knowing that he’s going to be in this apartment in just a few seconds, allows me to take the first full breath of air I’ve been able to draw since I got here this morning. My body sags and tears sting my eyes.
Shit.
This is very not good.
He’s halfway up the stairs and I start making my way for the door.
Slow your roll, girl.
It’s torturous but I force myself to wait for him and when he knocks, rather insistently, I slowly walk over to the door and pull it open. He charges through before I can even say anything, pulling me into his arms and scanning my face.
