Page 52 of The Lair

The streets outside are mercifully quiet, with only the low humming of my refrigerator to keep us company. We keep working in silence until he breaks it.

“Why do you dye your hair brown?”

I don’t shift my gaze from the new bracelet I’m making, afraid of what he’ll find in my eyes. And then I shrug, as if his question hadn’t just undone me. As if my heart weren’t beating a million miles per hour.

“It was time for a makeover.”

We both know that’s not the real answer, but Travis doesn’t press. Until he asks, “Why are you here, Allie?”

I could play coy and be a smartass, tell him it’s close to four in the morning, so where else would I be.

I could, and maybe I would have gone down that road a few months ago, but I’m tired of having to pretend I’m not authentic when that’s all I’ve ever wanted to be.

“I needed a change of scenery,” I say, my voice quiet.Start with the smaller details, build it up next.“I…”

But I can’t.

My tongue feels too heavy, my throat is dry, and I can’t speak. I can’t?—

I can. I absolutely can. It’s all in my head.

Taking a deep breath through my nose, I keep my gaze on the bracelet. For some reason, telling him while not looking at him is easier.

“Where I grew up…”No. Bad start. “My family…”Nope. Try again.I clear my throat, hoping my voice doesn’t sound as unsure as I feel. “I wanted to be on my own. Find myself and all that. Get away from…from the pressure.”

“You had a rough family life?”

His question takes me by surprise, if only because Travis never asks us anything about our personal lives. But he’s asking about mine. About a past I don’t want to remember because it still hurts too much.

“Something like that,” I mutter, not wanting to elaborate.So much for being authentic.

He must pick up on my discomfort because his questioning stops. Silence falls over us again as I finish two more bracelets and Travis struggles with his. At one point, the sound of bike engines fills my apartment, and we both stiffen, listening, waiting, but nothing happens.

I relax. Travis doesn’t.

“It’s looking good,” I tell him, nodding at his bracelet and hoping to distract him. Being alert all the time can’t be good for him. “See? I told you it could be fun.”

He grunts. “Never said this was fun.”

“But is it?”

When he glares at me, I give him a knowing smile.

“It’s not too bad,” he concedes, which I’ll take as a personal victory.

I’m not even a little ashamed to admit that when it comes to Travis, I will inhale every minuscule crumb he gives me as if it were a full meal.

But I’ve been thinking about something for a while, and I will take his questions for me as an invitation to get my fill too.

“Can I ask you something?” When he hums, I go for it. “Why were you buying all those toys the other day?”

He asked me about the hair dye, so it’s only fair that I ask him about the toys.

I don’t expect an actual answer or even a dismissal. When it comes to Travis, he’s unapologetic about his own time—if he doesn’t want to waste it, he won’t. And sure, maybe he comesoff as rude sometimes, but it’s one of the many things I admire about him. I wish I could send certain people to hell as easily as he can.

So I’m not expecting it when he says, “For charity.”

There goes my stupid, confused heart.

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