Page 59 of Insurgent

He doesn’t respond as he places my bag on a table. “Want a drink?” he asks, walking around the bar.

“I don’t think I can stomach it. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather go on up.”

He nods. “Go right ahead.”

I don’t reply as I grab my bag and head up the stairs. Opening the door to his apartment, I walk in and narrow my eyes at the space. It’s a loft. There’s only one bed. Black curtains hang on the window, and the comforter matches. There’s a dresser with a wooden box on top and a bedside table with a lighter and a lamp.

“Mae changed the sheets,” I hear behind me.

“Where will you sleep?” I ask, removing my beanie and running a hand through my damp hair.

He nods toward his couch. I lift a brow, dropping my bag and turning to him. “I’m putting you out.”

“No one puts me out.”

“You’re sleeping on your couch instead of your bed because of me, Danny.”

He exhales, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m not going to sleep tonight anyway.”

“I should go back home. This is stupid.” I shake my head. “I’m a grown woman, for fuck’s sake. I have a house.” I lift my bag.

“If you leave, it’s because you want to. You hear me?” he says.

I look at him and blink. He watches me, and then he walks over to his closet and grabs a throw and an extra pillow, tossing them onto the couch. He ignores me with his back faced my way and places his drink down and removes his shirt.

God, so different from the boy I used to be with. Back muscles and tattoos and even a few scars. I look away, trying to erase the tattoos and all the skin I just saw from my mind.

I feel so stupid right now, but it’s too cold and too late to drive all the way to the north side of town, so I take my bag into the bathroom and I shut the door. I remove my coat before sliding my jeans and t-shirt off. Unzipping my bag, I grab one of Samuel’s t-shirts and bring it to my face, breathing in deeply. It smells like grass and laundry detergent. My eyes water and I sit on the edge of the tub, thinking about his face, his eyes, the way his lips curved when he smiled. I wipe my cheek and slide the shirt over my head. I grab a pair of black night pants out of my bag.

Opening the door, I walk out, seeing Danny has turned the lights off except for a small lamp. He lies on the couch, facing away from me with a small fan circulating the room. I walk over to the bed and pull the covers back, climbing inside and noticing the sheets smell like fresh Downy. This brings me the slightest bit of comfort.

I curl into the fetal position and stare at the glowing lamp across the room. Pain simmers in my chest like a boiling pot and I let tears fall because I simply can’t stop them.

Chapter Thirty-One

Trig

I step into my house, sweat rolling down my spine, my hands shaking.

“Where the fuck are you?” I call out.

“Back here,” he says. The house is dark. I walk toward the hall, hitting the table beside the couch and knocking over some beer bottles. I leave them and walk to the kitchen. He stands in a black mask holding on to an AK-47. The back door is still open.

“Why did you come here?” I ask. “What were you thinking?” I walk over and pull the door closed.

“I was thinking I needed to get rid of this damn gun.”

“So, you come here?”

“Look, I did you a favor. Don’t fucking stand there and act like I work for you now.”

I shake my head, grabbing the sides of it as I pace back and forth. “Did anyone see you? Was he there?”

“The girl did, and I’m not sure. I didn’t see his car.”

“Did you kill her? Is she dead?”

He grabs the mask and pulls it off. “I was going too fast, I don’t know.”

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