Page 68 of Finding Fate

Fate

Today

Alone. Truly alone. Behind a locked door at that.

Privacy.

I'm losing it. This is the end of my sanity rope. Why else would I be tearing up at the sight of the locked door and my very own toilet and shower? I'm not proud of the whimper that emerges at the sight of the most luxurious shower I've seen in ages. I strip off the borrowed clothes, filled with visions of me spending every second of the next hour in the stone-and-glass bliss.

Before stepping in, I take a second to revel in the freedom only privacy gives you. It's glorious. I crank the heavy rubbed bronze nozzle all the way to the right and step back out to let the water warm. As the bathroom clouds with steam, I stare transfixed at my reflection.

Five months in Africa didn’t do me any favors. My hair’s now dull and nasty, eyes more gray than blue, and my once full cheeks have sunken in, drawing attention to sharp cheekbones.

Could be worse. Could be dead.

Not dwelling on it, I swing open the door and step into the near-scalding water. The quick shower on base was nothing compared to this. This is everything.

When the water begins to cool, I quickly wash with the three-in-one men's soap that's conveniently in the corner shelf. The thick male musty scent fills the shower, sending every neuron flickering with images and thoughts of Nash.

Nope, not going there.

I slam my palm against the faucet and the now uncomfortably cool stream of water drips to a stop. A thump, like something heavy being dropped on the floor, has me reaching for the plush towel hanging on the rack. Ear pressed against the door, I wait and listen, but it doesn't come again. Inch by inch, I pull the door open and stare through the small space into the expansive bedroom. Three large boxes now sit in the middle with Dobby circling and sniffing.

I try to blame the sudden heat flash sizzling in my veins on the too-hot shower instead of the fact that he was on the other side of this door while I'm in here naked. What would I do if he burst through? Would I push away as his strong hands skim up my bare arms while those brown eyes, which have haunted my dreams these past four months, stare deeply into mine? Would I back away when he loosens the towel, allowing it to fall to the floor? Would I hide from his scorching perusal of my thin, pale, naked body?

Okay, on that one, yeah I would.

Hell.

Annoyed and frustrated with myself, I lightly bang my forehead on the doorframe. He has a girlfriend, and who the hell do I think I am? He's the guy who goes home with the prom queen, not the computer geek who can barely fill a B-cup. Plus I'm leaving in three days; no need to get any more attached than I already am.

There's no future with someone like me. Someone who's a cancer squeezing the life out of every person I care about. If I really care for him, I'll keep my distance and leave when my promised time is up.

But even though that's what my mind tells me, just the thought of walking away from him makes a part of my heart ache.

A happy, panting Dobby wedges his nose between the door and the jamb, urging it wider. As I scratch his head and ears, I smile, letting him lick up the few remaining droplets of water from my forearms and hands.

Home. I'm home.

Not safe but home.

And he's here.

Alive.

**

THE NIGHT IS THE WORST, with its lurking shadows and quiet darkness driving me near insane. A couple nights over the past few months it almost did. Only focusing on those long happy nights with Nash, remembering every word spoken and look exchanged, kept me from mentally shattering. But tonight, even those cherished memories aren't enough to save me as I sit here awake, not lying in the large comfortable bed still fully made, but tucked in the corner hidden in its dark shadows, watching and waiting. For the past five minutes, I’ve tried to reassure myself that I’m home, that I’m safe, but this fear is too deep-rooted to be forgotten. Lamp still clutched in my right hand, my eyes grow heavy, lids drooping, eager for sleep.

A creak of the hardwood floors outside the door snaps me awake. I grasp the still-sleeping Dobby to hold him tight to my chest.

I hold a deep, shaky breath and wait for the door to open with Jace smiling on the other side. But it doesn't. Instead of the man who hunts me barging through, ready to kill me, a loud thump vibrates along the floor and something shuffles outside the door. The presence has all my fear and panic dissolving.

Dobby grunts in annoyance when I squeeze him tighter, this time out of relief instead of fear. Of course he’s here. I count to sixty before crawling toward the door on silent knees and hands. Pressing my forehead against the closed door, I curl in a tight ball and let out a deep sigh. Maybe tonight, with him, I'll finally get some much-needed sleep.

"Good night, Nash," I whisper beneath the door.

"Good night, Poppy,” says a tired, deep voice from the other side.

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