Page 101 of Tied to You
I give him a little nudge with my foot. “No.”
“Who were you dreaming about?”
Sitting up, I turn and immediately lay back down, now resting my head on his lap.
Travis lifts his hand for me to snuggle into him, then places his hand back on my hip.
“Not a who. More like a what,” I say on a yawn.
He leans forward, tossing the paper and the pen to the coffee table. “What was it about?” His big hand starts stroking my hair, untucking it from around my neck.
I close my eyes, seeing my dream like a movie in my head. I take a few minutes just to enjoy his soft touch. “There was a house by the sea. The sun was shining and you and I were there. We were walking along the sand barefoot, you holding my hand.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Hmm.” I yawn again, rolling to my back to look up to him.
He keeps stroking my hair, giving me a wink.
Letting my eyes fall back to closed, I continue. “There was a little boy. He must have been a baby, or a toddler, even. He had dark, wavy hair. He was walking by the water, the waves lapping at his small toes.” I smile to myself. “He was so small, but he didn’t need our hands. I’m not sure who he was, but I could feel he was with us. He was just so… happy. In his hand, he was holding a little toy duck.”
When I open my eyes, the face looking back at me, isn’t what I was expecting. There’s a hollowness to his gaze. A gentle darkness brimming. My eyes look between his as though I’ve missed something. I must have. His eyes blaze like torches. His jaw ticks at the same pace as my now racing heart. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” He’s quickly standing, forcing me to roll and move out of the way. He walks to the kitchen, still in my line of sight. His back’s to me as he swings open the fridge, grabbing the milk and tossing it on the side. He goes to close the door, but stalls, reaching down and grabbing a bottle of vodka. With the light from the fridge illuminating his beautiful frame, he throws his head back, taking a disgusting swig. He doesn’t falter. Doesn’t even retch or hiss as he swallows. Then he twists the lid back on the bottle, places it back inside and closes the door. “Brew?” he shouts. He sounds so casual, like he didn’t just panic at the mention of children.
In mydream.
“Yeah. Sure.” I frown, shaking my head, and stare at the blank screen of the television. Where did that come from? We’ve never spoken about marriage or children. Shit, we’ve not even spoken about getting engaged or anything so… permanent. But he told me he could see me in his future. Does he mean here? Just waiting for him to come home every day after he’s been out living it up in his criminal world?
Like fuck. He knows me better than that. No way I’d accept that. No way I’d sacrifice my future to suit anyone else.
You already have.
“Oh, piss off,” I say under my breath. I don’t need my conscience rocking up now. I know I don’t have long until I have to face the music. But that’s then. And this is now. I still have time.
I hear his feet padding towards me. Unable to shake my mood, I reach for the controller and click on the TV. My hand pauses looking down at thepaper on the table.Matthew Elliot?It can’t be. “What’s this?” I ask, dropping the controller and checking the name again.
“Thatis no—”
“—none of my concern. Yeah. But, Matthew Elliott? As in, my age? Tall? Blonde? Posh boy qualities?”
Travis’ eyebrows raise, then immediately fall into the biggest frown I’ve ever seen grace his features. Damn. I’m seeing that look more and more. Where’s the man that was smiling and laughing this afternoon before he left? “How do you know one of our buyers?”
I scoff. So itishim. “We attended the same Uni. He knows Hen—” I stop myself when Travis lowers the mugs to the table, scowling. “He knows people I used to hang around with. Why are you getting into business with this lot?” Because if I know one thing, Matthew is a class-A wanker. He’ll screw his way to the top, and he does not give two shits about how he gets there, or who he meets along the way.
Travis picks up the paper and pen then slumps back in the sofa. “Leave it.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve spelt his name wrong.”
He looks at me.
“It’s Elliott with two T’s.”
His gaze holds mine whilst he lowers his pen and writes another ‘T’ on the paper. “Smart arse.”
“You can’t deal with him.” I voice my opinion like it’ll matter.
Travis pinches the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. “Why not?”
