Page 19 of Unbroken Promises

I jab my thumb over my shoulder as I continue, “I should, uh, head inside. See you around.” And with that, I turn on my heel, not bothering to look behind me as I head inside; refusing to let the roiling emotions swim to the surface, at least until I can lock myself inside my apartment.

Once inside the building, I quickly make my way over to the elevator, jabbing the button repeatedly, as if that would actually make it appear faster. A shudder escapes me and I find myself fighting to hold the tears at bay as the overwhelming events of the evening come flooding back to me. A soft ding signals the arrival just before the elevator doors open with a soft whoosh. Stepping inside, I finally turn to face forward as I press the button for my floor and a piercing shriek fills the air as I jump with a start.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, la mia diavoletta.” With a sadistic grin on his too-smug face, Theo stands before me, as he and Bash both move into the elevator, crowding my space. Suddenly the elevator is too small, the air too thin, as these two hulking figures press in beside me.

“Dammit Theo! Bash! What the hell? You scared the shit out of me.” An unrepentant grin spreads over my friend’s face, as he crosses his arms.

“Did you really think we were gonna let that be our goodbye? That we would leave you to go back to your place alone after the shit that went down in your office?” Theo quirks a brow in my direction, a hard edge to his tone despite the playful grin that I want to smack off his too-beautiful face.

Knowing from our history that this is one battle I can’t win, I choose instead to bite my tongue, staring straight ahead at the closed doors as we move up to my floor. After what feels like an eternity, his scent drowning me in memories of warm embraces and long nights filled with quiet conversations, the door finally slides open, and I let out a shaky breath.

As I turn to face the two men sharing the small space with me, I make a vague gesture over my shoulder. “Well, this is me. Thanks guys, I’ve got it from here.” Not saying anything, they both just stare at me, arms crossed over their chests as they wait for me to step out of the elevator.

“Fine then.” I mutter under my breath as I step into the hall and make my way down the dim corridor to my apartment. Once home, I move to unlock the door. A soft click sounds with the bolt sliding back, and stepping into the dark room, I give a quick once-over, relief filling me when I find there are no new “gifts” waiting for me. Up until now, they have all been waiting just outside my door, but after the events of this evening, I wouldn’t put it past my stalker to get past this security system as they had with the one in my office. Moving to the wall, I place my hand on the digital pad while it scans, disarming the system and turning the lights on. With a few presses on the screen, I quickly survey the security footage of the other rooms, reassuring myself that everything is in its proper place.

A soft groan fills the air as two large bodies plop gracelessly onto my couch. “Alright then, just come on in and make yourself at home why don’t you.” The words are muttered under my breath, but apparently both men catch it anyway.

A snicker from Bash lets me know he finds the half-annoyed grumbling amusing, even as Theo responds. “Oh, my pretty diavoletta. So kind and welcoming. Just the way I remembered you.” A grin breaks across his face, apparently amused at his reminder of our initial interactions from when we first met all those years ago. It’s true, I may not have been the most welcoming individual back then, but there had been a lot going on in my personal life, and Theo? Well, he was just a lot. In his dark jeans and hoodie, with his piercing blue eyes and formidable presence how couldhe not be? I had grown to love that though, had found comfort in his strong arms and reassurance in his well-earned confidence.

Theodore Giovanni is a powerful man, even back then I knew it. Now, with time, he has grown into himself and seeing him here, in my little apartment? Well, I am finding it hard to look away. Somehow, he has grown even taller than I remembered, and clearly had put on even more muscle, a feat I didn’t think possible. He had been well-built in college, strong and powerful, commanding attention both on and off the ice. But now? He's a brick wall. Solid muscle stacked on top of more muscle; his figure dominating my small and feminine space.

Biting my lip, nervous at the fact that he is here, in my apartment, I catch his eye as he stares boldly back at me, his gaze lingering on my mouth before trailing lazily back up to meet my gaze. He has never been inside my home before, never seen my life after. His being in my space was somehow much more abrasive than our meeting earlier in the restaurant had been. A heaviness settles around me as the weight of what was left unsaid between us all these years suddenly comes rushing back. I can see the moment it registers for him as well, pain flickering in his gaze before I can bring myself to look away.

“So, anyway. This is my place. Kitchen’s over there, bathroom’s down the hall to the left. Guest room is to the right and the master is at the end.” I gesture vaguely in the direction of each room indicated. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

I shrug, trying to keep the nerves at bay. What must he think of this, my space? My personal haven. It is nothing like the home I grew up in, no false pretenses and fancy offerings meticulously put together by the best interior designers that money can buy. Instead, it is a comfortable mashup of thrifted furniture, bookshelves lining one wall, an overly plush reading chair tucked in the corner with my favorite throw blanket, the one his mother knit for me, draped casually across the back.

I continue to gaze around my humble home, taking in the view through his eyes. The kitchen is pretty bare, minimal dishes, except for the children’s set I have specifically for when my godson Wolfie stays over. The guest room is his too, the only room that I have truly taken the time to put together. Done in soft tones of blue, a fabric swing that Finn and Jay helped me install hanging in one corner, with a row of meticulously placed sensory toys, and airplane models line the shelves of the small bookshelf.

The rest of the place, the living room, bathroom, and my bedroom are all very minimalistically done. Not bothering to take the time and money to put something together, it is all really simple. Bare essentials in place. Aside from my readingcorner, this place is little more than a place to sleep. It had once been my freedom and my safe haven, but that changed once the packages and letters started showing up, just a few short months after I moved in. They followed me from college, where I had hoped they would stay.

Chalking it all up to an overenthusiastic fan initially, it took several years before it truly registered that there was more to the little notes and gifts that were deliberately left for me to find, in my dorm, in my locker at the college’s gymnastics center, in my car. Even then, the notes were always flowery poetry and little gifts. Chocolates that I would never eat, flowers, beautifully painted watercolors of landscapes on notecards.

My senior year of college, after I won my second gold medal in the Summer Olympics, was the first time I ever felt a sense of fear, the bemusement of the fanfare fading with the lilting poem dripping with contempt, the words sinister. Attached to the note had been a charred feather, and that, along with the words themselves, were a clear indication that someone knew more about my past than they were letting on.

I reached out to Finn then, and he arranged for more lessons with Jonathan on various forms of self-defense and situational awareness. That spring, after graduation, he had insisted I relocate up to the Seattle area where it would be easier for him to keep an eye on things. And it was just as well, I thought.

My roommate Sierra was moving to the east coast for residency after she finished her med school program, and there was no way in hell that I could bring myself to move back there, not even for my brother or Bash who were both still situated on that half of the continent. I didn’t know where I wanted to end up, only that wherever it was, I was going to open a gymnastics center, and Seattle was as good a place as any.

The only thing holding me back, giving me any sense of resignation, was the fact that Theo, too, was settled in Seattle for his position in the league. But, as I reasoned at the time, Seattle was a large city, and even if the guys mentioned it to him that I was moving here (which I assumed they would), there was no reason we ever had to actually see one another. And I had been doing well with that, for years, up until tonight. All thanks to Bash insisting I come to their game.

Chapter Eighteen

Theo

Itake it all in, my eyes hungrily devouring every square inch of this tiny space that Danica calls home, even as she continues to gesture around to the kitchen, and the other rooms down the hall. It’s not what I expected, and there is a ball of tightness that expands across my chest as I take in every minute detail, while trying to maintain an air of cool detachment.

For years I have watched her, parked outside the building, staring up at her window. Wondering what it must be like. Would she have painted the walls in her favorite color? Would she have a couch that she could rest on, as she used to do at Ma’s whenever she fell asleep after staying up too late reading, or snuggled into my side watching a show? Would she have pictures on the walls of all of us, or would I be carefully removed from her space, no hint of the past that we shared?

A pain fills me, sadness causing my chest to physically ache. Aside from what looks to be a well-used reading chair in the corner, adorned with a blanket that I know Ma made and gifted her as a graduation present so she would have a small bit of home to take with her to the dorms when she went off to college, this space is nothing like I imagined it would be. No paint, or pictures hang from the walls. The kitchen is simplistic, a small coffee pot and toaster the only appliances atop the counters. No decorations, no plants, absolutely nothing that screams this place belongs to my beautiful girl. If I hadn’t seen her unlock the door and disarm the security system that was clearly designed by Finn, I wouldn’t have believed that this was the space that shecalls home.

Not cold and carefully placed together like the house she grew up in, though I had only been inside that once when I was helping move her things out, and over to the new place she had shared with Caleb for the remainder of her senior year and the summer leading up to her college journey. Not a comfortable mish-mash of things that scream comfort and home either. It’s just. . . empty. A shell of what I imagined and hoped it would be for her, and I am disappointed at the sight. My girl has been living here for years, but has she even been living?

Throwing a subtle glance at Bash, I stand abruptly. “I’m gonna take a piss.” And make my way carefully down the hall, meticulously taking in every detail, searching for something, anything that screams ‘her’ in this empty space.

I hear Bash’s voice as he strikes up a conversation, distracting Danica as he leads her into the kitchen, facing away from me. I make quick work of opening the door to the bathroom, noting that it is just as generic and blank as the other public spaces. I shut the door softly, making my way to the end of the hall toward the master bedroom. Opening it just enough for me to sneak through, I close the door gently behind me as I enter the room. Even in the darkness, softened only by the glow of the city lights outside, I can see that this space is also not a true reflection of my girl.

A nightstand on the side she must sleep on with a small lamp, the one small closet in the room is open to reveal dresses and jackets crammed inside, with shoes lined neatly along the floor, and a dresser in the far corner of the room. The only thing that shows any sign of life or color in this sterile space is her bedding, soft cream sheets and quilt with a few decorative throws adding a small pop of color. I breathe in, and am hit with the smell of her. Unable to resist, make my way over to the bed and lay down in her spot, grabbing the nearest pillow and hugging it to me as I breathe in the scent.

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