Page 44 of The Lair

“I didn’t have the best night’s sleep is all.”

It isn’t enough for him. “What happened?”

Too tired to dilute the truth, I tell him, “Someone broke into the apartment next door, and it freaked me out, so I slept very little.”

The notch between his eyebrows shifts from annoyed to something else. “Come again?”

“There was a break-in?—”

“Are you hurt?”

“What? No.” Why would he even think that? And why does the butterfly in my stomach open a curious eye at his concern?Go back to sleep. Or better yet—die. “It had nothing to do with me.”

“Where do you live?”

When I rattle off my address, something in him shifts. My throat feels like someone has stuck cotton balls inside it as I watch the tension in his wide shoulders rise, those green eyes darkening as if bathed in shadows.

“Travis,” I start, my heart hammering in an uncomfortable way, “what the hell is going on?”

Slowly, he lowers his head and uses that intense stare to pierce into mine. And then he says the last thing I expect him to.

“You’re moving the fuck out of that shithole.”

What. Is. Going. On?

“Excuse me?” I must have misheard him. There’s no way he’sorderingme to move out.

“You’re moving out,” he repeats.

An unpleasant feeling of disbelief clings to my chest. “Says who?”

“Says anyone with the slightest damn bit of common sense.”

Oh, he’s serious about this.

Despite the pool of anger bubbling in the pit of my stomach, I keep it together long enough to ask him, “Can we talk in the changing room?”

Travis must sense the edge in my voice because he agrees. A moment later, he closes the door to the changing room and turns to me with the same stoic expression I suspect he’s had his whole life. But imagining a grumpy baby Travis doesn’t bring me the slightest amount of amusement today.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hiss.

The deep breath he takes next personally offends me. “Allie.”

“Travis.”

“You live in a dangerous part of town.”

I frown. “What?”

“You live on King’s Avenue?” When I nod, he continues, “There’s a known point for drug dealing nearby. Some fucked-up shit.”

I’m not imagining the frustration in his voice as he runs a hand down his face and mutters, “Goddammit, Allie.”

I let my arms rise and fall to my sides. “What now? Why do you even care so much in the first place? Why are you angry with me and behaving like a total ass?”

The words have barely left my mouth and I already regret them.

This isn’t me. I don’t know when I turned into this defensive, ready-to-pounce woman, and I don’t like her. This isn’t the person Jada and Paul fought so hard for, the girl they raised because her own parents refused to live in the real world.

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