Page 51 of The Prodigal

I’ve had absolutely enough of this woman today.

Barreling forward, Eden at least has enough sense to scream when I get to her and scoop her up off the floor and toss her onto the bed.

“If you move from this bed or even cut a look that annoys me, I will leave you here.” I dare her to fucking test me. I’m not a patient man, and when I’m tired, even less so.

Her eyes narrow like she paid no attention to my warning. “Where are you going to sleep?”

Honestly, the car sounds fucking fantastic right about now, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of answering. She’s gotten way too comfortable with me. It’s time to remind her that I’m not like the idiots she meets on campus. A warm body and companionship don’t mean shit to me.

Being alone is safe—it’s where I feel the most alive.

Opening the door, I drag the chair inside and move it to the foot of the bed. “Toss me a pillow.”

She doesn’t.

“Did you hear me, or would you prefer I repeat myself?”

Her mouth opens and then shuts before opening again. “Are you really gonna sleep in the chair?” She looks at the thrift store chair the motel claims as a sitting chair. “Why not sleep in that chair if you’re going to be ridiculous? It has padding.”

Telling her that I won’t sleep won’t make a difference.

“Fine. I’ll get it myself.” I take a step toward her, and she snags the pillow, holding it captive between her arms.

“At least turn your chair around. I won’t be able to sleep with you staring at me all night.”

Leaning over her body, I allow my knuckles to graze her chest, now covered with a T-shirt, and grip the pillow. “Good. Then we’ll both suffer.”

Eden

Twelve.

That’s how many questions it took before Remington dragged his chair outside, so I could fall asleep without feeling his scathing glare on my back. He wanted to play games by propping his feet on the edge of the bed and striking his lighter over and over just to annoy me.

I fought back the only way I knew how.

I talked to him.

But now, as an eerie sound startles me awake, I realize I’mstillalone.

“Remington?” I whisper in the darkness. “Are you on the floor?”

Another thump against the wall has me scrambling upright, clenching the sheets to my chest. “Remington?”

What if he fell asleep in the chair again? What if someone hurt him? I know I said I wanted to smother him, but I don’t really. He’s rude and moodier than a cat, but I’m weird and find him endearing anyway. He’s like a chain-smoking feral animal. All he needs is someone to be patient and scold him every now and then.

Unfortunately for him, I’m a cat lover.

“Remington,” I whisper once more as I slide to the edge of the bed and put my feet down. The drapes are closed, and I can hear the traffic racing by.

Traffic.

For a split second, panic runs through my veins.

Remington left me.

He finally left like he’d been threatening.

I shouldn’t have asked him those questions. I should have just let him stare at me like a weirdo. I would have eventually passed out. I didn’t need to drive him outside, so he could think about leaving me stranded.

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