Page 33 of Deliverance

“Do you need a ride home?” Zander asks when we pull up to the intersection and he stops at the red light.

Worry takes root in my stomach. I bite the inside of my cheek and evaluate his offer.

It’s not like you’re going to invite him in, Drew. He won’t even know what floor you’re on.

I look up at him, studying his profile that’s edged by the soft city glimmer as if somehow it may reveal some dark secrets he’s carrying. I know he has them, but they aren’t the destructive kind Rhys has. All I feel is calm energy.

“Do you mind stopping by my studio first?” I ask. “I need to grab some of my stuff.”

He turns to meet my gaze, his head inclined slightly, eyes blue and clear. “Sure.” The corners of his lips lift and the smile begins to unravel me.

“I’m in Hollywood,” I explain and disclose the cross streets instead of an actual address.

The light changes to green and Zander shifts the gears. An invisible force flattens me to the seat as we drill through the intersection, engine roaring.

I’m used to being by myself in the back seat of an Uber with my headphones on and the windows up, separated from the world. Alone and safe. Riding in a convertible with the wind slamming against my face and ripping at my hair is the exact opposite.

“I promise I’ll get you home in one piece,” Zander shouts over the noise and flashes me a grin.

By the time we arrive at my apartment complex, it’s nearly three in the morning and my cheeks hurt from laughing at all the jokes Zander has been cracking.

“It’s right on the corner.” I motion at the high-rise at the end of the block.

“The one with the glass doors?”

“Yep.”

His gaze sweeps up the height of the building. “You must have quite the view.”

“Yes, and it’s best at night.”

“I would imagine.” There’s a short pause, then he adds, “People who choose to live in the middle of everything are pretty brave.”

Silence ebbs between us as Zander glides his car toward the curb and puts the gear in Neutral. The engine purrs like a wildcat.

“Thank you for taking me home,” I say, reaching for the handle. My eyes surf his features one last time, determined to memorize each line and groove.

“My pleasure. Have a good night.”

“You too. Drive safe.” I push the door open. The next phrase slips past my lips on its own, “You’re coming to my showing, right?”

“I am. Unless you don’t want me to.”

“I’d love for you to come.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

Unease swirls in my gut when I hear the nurse calling the next patient—a young woman who looks like she’s about to give birth. Or maybe she’s having twins, because it’s hard to imagine she could get any bigger.

The small waiting room has six chairs, three of which are occupied. A multitude of posters on pregnancy and women’s health line the windowless walls, and the emptiness that pushes against my breastbone and fills my stomach makes me feel completely out of place. As if I don’t belong here.

In truth, I don’t.

My fingers lock around the straps of my purse because it’s the only way I can stop my hands from shaking, and soon, my knuckles begin to turn white. My lack of sleep caused by last night’s adventure with Zander is making me even more anxious.

Waiting is the worst. Minutes seem to stretch into hours in this office and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve nearly run out, but my common sense always wins. Or is it my desire to somehow get fixed, to prove to myself that everything Rhys did to me can be undone?

Or is it the need to simply erase the past?

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