Page 11 of Room 1017

Adrenaline raced through my veins, making my movements clumsy as I fumbled to get out of the car. My legs were jelly as I stepped up onto the porch and raised a hand to knock on the door. I listened for any sound from within—footsteps, a voice,anything. I would gladly take him yelling for me to fuck off at this point. “Peter? It’s me, Casey,” I called loudly as I knocked again, before leaning on the doorbell. The chime echoed through the house in a haunting melody.

No answer.

With a quivering hand, I fished my cell from my pocket and called Peter’s emergency contact, Amy. “Hello, this is Agent Abadi,” a woman said, her voice melodic, and I remembered the beautiful woman with the dark hair and even darker eyes.

“Hi, I’m really sorry to bother you. This is Casey Winslow, Peter’s physical therapist. We met at the hospital? I’m really sorry to bother you, but I was just wondering if you could give me an update on Peter.”

“What? Hasn’t he been coming to see you?” she asked, her voice taking on a harder edge. After I explained about the missed appointments and that I was outside his house, she very curtly said, “I’ll be right there,” and hung up.

The SUV she pulled up in was very clearly government-issued, all black with dark-tinted windows, and when she hopped out, she was dressed in a crisp gray suit. She pulled off her sunglasses and tossed them back into the vehicle behind her. Small or not, the woman was intimidating. I could see what Peter saw in her. If I were straight, I could easily imagine dating someone like her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you at work,” I muttered awkwardly, finding it difficult to look her in the eye. “I just assumed you could tell me if he was okay.”

Amy shook her head sharply as she joined me on the porch. “I haven’t seen him since I first dropped him off from the hospital. I got called away on assignment, but he promised he’d call if he needed anything.” She pulled out her keys and flipped through them, looking for the right one. “Shit, I knew something like this would happen. He’s too damn stubborn for his own good. Typical alpha. Would it kill him to ask for a little help?”

I frowned, trying to put her words into perspective. “But don’t you live here?”

She offered me a confused expression. “No, why would I live with him?”

“Well, isn’t he your partner?” I asked, hating how it came out like an accusation.

She laughed harshly. “Yeah, as agents. We’re notlifepartners. Did you think we were a couple?” Her crooked smile showed her wry amusement.

“Oh, um… I guess. I didn’t ask. I figured it wasn’t my business.” My cheeks heated with embarrassment, but I quickly reminded myself that it didn’t matter if they were a couple or not. It didn’t make Peter any more available. I made a point of repeating my mantra as she fit her key in the lock.Don’t get attached. He’ll get better, and then he’ll leave just like all the rest. It’s a part of recovery, the way it’s supposed to be.

Amy got the door unlocked, and I braced myself for the worst, but there was no awful stench of decay when she cracked the door open, only stale body odor. “Peter?” she called into the shadowy interior of the house. She slipped inside, leaving me standing on the porch. I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I wait here?

I finally scooped the contents of the mailbox into my arms and stepped inside, setting it all on the table in the entryway, and closed the door behind me, listening as Amy went searching for Peter.

Maybe he wasn’t even here. Maybe he went shopping or… on vacation or something. The house certainly had that abandoned feel to it. It was obvious Peter lived alone—if this could be called living at all.

I heard her gasp, and I was already in motion before I could think twice. The adrenaline roared back to life in my veins, and I shot down the hall, following her voice as she called for Peter to wake up.

All the worst-case scenarios flashed back into my mind as I found Amy standing beside Peter’s bed, shaking him by the shoulder. I saw the pill bottle on the bedside table next to a bottle of whiskey, and my training kicked in. Searching his neck for a pulse, I sagged in relief at the steady beat beneath my fingers, the rise and fall of his chest.

Peter was alive, but it felt like a close call.

7

Peter

Myworldwasawashin shades of gray, swirling around me like a never-ending tide, a constant push and pull, dragging me back and forth along a rocky seabed. In my blurred dreams, it was why my whole body felt bruised and battered.

“Peter! Wake up!” Amy called, her voice a rude intrusion into this gray haven I’d built for myself.

“Peter?” This voice was new. A crisp pain sliced through the mist, making me groan. Why was someone pinching my shoulder?

I tried to swat them away, but my arms didn’t work properly and my aim was off, bringing my wrist down on the bedside table instead. “Fuck off,” I mumbled.

They wouldn’t cut it out, though. Their insistent presence was peeling back the abyss layer by layer, until reality was so rudely brought back into focus. “Peter, I need to know how many pills you took,” a man said.

The first thing I saw was my angel hovering above me. His blond hair looked less golden now, without his halo in the gloomy shadows of my bedroom, and his gorgeous smile was nowhere to be seen. Did I die? Was this Heaven?

Last I remembered, I took a few pills and washed them down with some whiskey. I liked the foggy feeling it gave me, allowing me a respite from my nightmares, however briefly. I reached up and touched the curl of hair around his ear. “You’re here…” I whispered.

Casey’s shoulders sagged in relief, but it only seemed to make his frown deeper. “How many pills?” he repeated, taking hold of my wrist and drawing my hand away from his face.

I was still confused as hell, but when I tried to sit up, the all-too-familiar lance of pain brought me fully back to reality. I groaned and lay back against the pillows, cursing under my breath. “I dunno, a few,” I told him. “I was having trouble sleeping.”

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