Page 44 of The Prodigal

I roll my eyes. “It’s certainly not for me.”

She glances at the yellow monstrosity in my hand and then at my face. Her lips start to quiver, and it takes every ounce of control for me to stand there and face the emotions passing through her eyes.

“Why would you buy me a suitcase?”

I can’t stand it—I can’t fucking stand to see her cry.

“Because you needed one.”

Eden

This time, Ichooseto sit in the back seat—after all, I have a trash bag to unpack.

“I can’t believe you bought me a suitcase!”

It’s only like the twentieth time I’ve said this to Remington, but since he turned up the radio about ten minutes ago, he doesn’t hear me.

And that’s fine.

I also asked him a million questions that pissed him off, too.

Questions like:

Did he use the bathroom?

Did he know he would buy the suitcase when he went into the mall, or did he see it on his way out and thought of me?

Was he really planning on hitting that guy? He really was just asking for directions.

Does he threaten everyone he meets, or is it just special people?

But I never got the answers. Remington simply lit a cigarette and turned up the radio so loud that even thinking became hard. I managed, though, because nothing, not even a rude Remington or loud music, would stop me from enjoying this moment and committing it to memory.

No one has ever given me a gift before—like ever. And Remington gave me a three-piece luggage set! I don’t even have enough clothes to fill this thing or the smaller bags that came with it. My clothes are basically moving out of a studio apartment and into a mansion. It’s wild. To think this guest, who started out rude and distant, gave me a gift. And not even a basic gift, like a stick of gum.

A suitcase—ayellowsuitcase.

I knew, deep down, he was sweet.

“Stop,” he barks from the front seat, his eyes on the road. “I can feel you smiling back there.”

I am smiling, but there is no way he knows that unless he’s been sneaking glances in the mirror. “And I can feel you staring. Should I tell you to stop, too?”

I never noticed before, since Remington doesn’t really give you the chance to just gaze at him, but now that I’m behind him, admiring him in the rearview mirror, I can see everything he tries to hide behind those clouds of smoke.

Haunting chestnut eyes that have shouldered an unimaginable past.

A jawline that is sharp and hardened—just like the walls he’s built around him.

Skin that has seen the sun but prefers the shadows.

A mouth that holds a softness yet promises lies.

Everything about this man is alluring and tempting. He’s an exciting thrill ride that promises fun and danger. But the fun rides aren’t regulated. They are unreliable and break down, leaving you hanging in mid-air, reading the warning label right before you plummet to your death.

Remington might be flawless and gorgeous on the outside, but deep inside, a war of light and dark battle for his soul. I know, because I’ve been where he is. I used to hate everyone and everything. I was full of what-ifs and regrets on a daily basis. My soul couldn’t decide where its loyalties lay. It certainly wasn’t with me.

But now…well, my soul and I are still working on it. I’m just saying I know what it’s like to fight yourself, to build walls that even you can’t knock down. It’s a lonely life.

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