Page 122 of His To Erase
The words hit me like a left hook.What the fuck?I turn to him slowly, blinking like I must’ve heard him wrong.
“What?”
He doesn’t flinch, if anything, he leans in, keeping his voice soft, like I’m a skittish horse.
“Just think about it,” he says quickly, already laying the pitch out like a travel brochure. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll be workingmost of the time, but the place has a spa, private suites—you’d be safe, and out of the city. No more looking over your shoulder. You can just relax.”
Safe.
God, men love using that word when they’re the ones holding the key. I blink again, because I’m trying really fucking hard not to laugh. Or scream. Or throw the car door open and walk into traffic.
“Frank, I can’t just leave for three weeks.”
“Why not?”
Why not?Like my entire life isn’t one missed shift away from collapse.
“Some of us have this thing called a job,” I mutter.
He waves a hand like I’m the one being dramatic. “I’ll pay whatever you’d lose. Call it a mental health break.”
Yeah, I think.Because nothing says healing like being trapped in a luxury suite with the one man I’m not sure I can trust.
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
This time his voice dips lower, and it’s not a question anymore, it’s a challenge.
I hesitate, because the truth is—I don’t have a real reason. Not one I can say out loud anyway. Just a gut feeling that this isn’t right. That going anywhere with him feels like handing over the last pieces of myself before I even know what they are. It wouldn’t be fair to him if I jumped into this.
“I just… can’t.” I say finally. I should probably figure out how I feel before I tell him this isn’t going anywhere.
He exhales hard through his nose. “You shouldn’t be staying at your place,” he says instead, flicking the turn signal as we merge onto another street.
“It’s not safe. You know that.”
“I changed the locks.”
“Locks don’t stop people who already know how to get in.”
What’s that supposed to mean? For the first time in minutes, I wonder who he’s really trying to protect me from.
I glance at him, feeling a little unsettled. And yeah—a part of me can’t help but wonder if maybe he’s right, maybe being away would be safer.
But three weeks? With Frank?
There’s no way in hell he’d keep his hands to himself and I’m not about to spend half a month dodging his idea of comfort while trying not to spiral into another situation I can’t claw out of.
Yeah… no.
God, I think I’d rather take my chances with a stalker.
That thought alone slams the door shut. I’m not ready for that. And I’m definitely not ready forhimlike that.
“You want to pretend everything’s fine, that’s your choice. But when I get back from this trip, I want you out of that apartment.”
My head whips toward him.
