Page 41 of His Secret Betrayal
Bummer.
Alek
“Can I help you?” the haggard, sleepy-eyed woman asks the next morning. She leans against the doorway of a run-down apartment building, stringy blonde hair framing her face as she crosses her arms. All the signs point to me waking her from a peaceful slumber. Her hair is mussed, she’s wearing a white-tank top with no bra, and a flimsy pair of black sleep shorts. I would like to say I’m sorry for waking her, but that would be a lie.
“Areyou Evelyn?” I ask.
She frowns. “Who wants to know?”
Holding up the two empty duffle bags dangling from my fingers, I give her an unimpressed look. “I’m here for Luke’s things.”
Does he know I’m here on his behalf?
No.
But better to ask for forgiveness than permission and all that jazz, right? Besides, finding his home address stored in the employee files at work was too easy.
One could argue I’m being heavy handed, controlling, and presumptuous right now. I wouldn’t disagree, but I couldn’t get the image of Luke sobbing out of my head this morning. Or waking up to the sound of him screaming my name in the middle of the night. Even recalling it now makes me shudder. I haven’t felt true fear like that in a long time, but the thought of him being hurt had panic crawling up my throat.
Then he pushed his ass back against me, handed me control of his body, and trusted me to take care of his needs. It didsomethingto me. Something I can’t quite put into words yet. Because somehow, in the past twenty-four hours, he’s managed to crack the wall I’ve built around my heart. A slither of light exists in me now that didn’t before. I let so few people in, and yet, it feels like he’s been pounding on the walls demanding entrance.
And maybe I don’t want to let him all the way in yet. In my experience, love hurts. Sometimes literally. And yet, I can’t deny the urge to tuck him away somewhere safe.
Based on what he told me yesterday—and the bruise he’s still sporting on his cheek—living here is the exact opposite of safe.
Evelyn scoffs. “Excuse me, who are you?”
I’m the man who’s going to save your son from your vitriol.
“I’m afraid that’s on a need-to-know-basis,” I drawl.
She huffs, rolling her eyes but moving away from the door frame. I slip in behind her, following her through a small entryway with a brown, stained carpet. The sight of the apartment, knowing this has been Luke’s living space, stops me short. It’s an open floor plan with the kitchen to the left and the living room on the right. The window in the living room is boarded up, and across from it is a brown, lumpy sofa that looks like it belongs in a dump. There are ashtrays full of cigarette butts, which explains the lingering stench of smoke. There’s also a hole in the wall about the size of a human fist.
“Down the hallway, first door on the left,” Evelyn murmurs. I give her back an incredulous look as she ambles over to the kitchen, sitting at the counter and lighting a cigarette.
“You don’t want to question why a strange man you’ve never met is here to collect your son’s things?” I ask.
She shrugs. “He’s a grown man. None of my business what he does, or who he fucks.” She gives me a knowing smirk when I clench my jaw. I bite my tongue for now, moving down the hallway.
As I enter his room, I breathe in the scent of him that still lingers within the tidy space. It’s the sage and cedarwood scent he occasionally spritzes on. Never so much as to be overwhelming, but just enough you crave a little more. The room is relatively simple: a queen-sized bed in the middle with navy-blue sheets and a small desk sitting underneath a window. There are sketchbooks and pencils scattered about the wooden surface.
I stuff the first duffel bag full of clothes, grabbing a little bit of everything. Just as I think it’s stuffed as full as it’ll go, I manage to add in a handful of hair ties and a bottle of black nail polish. In the second bag, I pile in his sketchbooks and pencil cases. When I notice an eReader, I add that, too.
Hefting both bags over my shoulders, I make my way back into the main living area. As Evelyn continues puffing on her cigarette, I stroll past her without another word.
“Tell Luke when he gets back, I need another twenty,” she calls after me.
I pause in the doorway, my lips flattening as I cut my cold gaze to her. My tone is hard as I speak, not even attempting to disguise my disgust. “Do you only beg Luke for money, or will you take mine, too?”
Her eyes light up, her lips curling into a sly grin as her gaze trails down my torso. “What do you want for it?”
“I want you to go to rehab.”
Her smile falls. “Are you serious?”
I shrug. “I’ll pay every cent. All you have to do is show up and do the work. And then, after you get out, act like you give a shit about your son.”
Her nostrils flare, splotches of red appearing on her cheeks and spreading down her neck. Anger flashes in her eyes, and it makes me grin to know I’ve struck a nerve.
