Page 44 of ILY
Which would have been a nice break from reality, if I’m honest.
An old wooden ladder appears above me, and Thorne gently lowers it down into the hole, giving me a way out.
“My hero,” I say as I begin to climb up. My arms and legs feel weak, and it’s becoming more and more obvious I haven’t eaten today. The world begins to swim a bit as I step out of the hole and look down. Oh god, that’s going to take forever to fill.
“You can thank me later,” Thorne says, drawing me out of my thoughts.
I glance over at him, and in spite of the fact that I’m woozy as hell, I’m immediately turned on. “Oh, I so will.”
He blushes and then places a hand on my sweaty lower back. I really need a shower and maybe another drink. Water and some alcohol.
Both at the same time, maybe.
“Go on and shower, and I’ll start dinner,” he says as we walk inside.
“Don’t tell me what to do. What if I want to be like this while I eat?”
He stares at me, and I sigh, gesturing toward the stairs. “Fine. Shower and then eat. And drink. I want something strong.”
He nods and ushers me away. I’m pretty sure I smell, and when I see my face in the mirror, I suck in a sharp gasp.
Oh god. That’s not a good look. I look like an actual groundhog. Christ, Michael is ruining me.
I strip my clothes off and hop into the shower, not even waiting for it to warm up. Standing under the cold water, I close my eyes as it runs over my face. “It’s time to get a fucking grip,” I say aloud. “Enough is enough. You have a hot man downstairs cooking you dinner right now. You do not need to ruin your future over a goddamn rodent.”
The pep talk helps a little.
I scrub at the dirt until the water runs clear, and then I step out, dry off, and pull on a fresh pair of sweats. I may even apply a little moisturizer and lip balm to look less like a zombie. At least now when I look in the mirror, I seem a little more human.
God, I have no idea what Thorne sees in me.
But I’d like to find out. I head back to the kitchen, where Thorne looks like he’s waiting for me. The man is sex on a stick with his bulging biceps and his eyes that seem to track my every movement. His clever hands reach for a pink something-or-other in a martini glass and a cup of water, pushing them both toward me.
“Drink,” he says, and I obey. The water feels heavenly on my scorched throat, and the alcohol helps ease whatever else is going on in my brain, though I might need to revisit my dependence on it because I’ve been self-medicating a lot lately.
I slide up to the counter as he’s chopping garlic and offer him a small smile. Somehow, just standing near him, I feel better.
“You okay now?” he asks.
I let out the smallest laugh and shrug. “I think I’m going to dig holes for the rest of my life. It was very cathartic and a hell of a workout.” I try to flex, but my arms are like limp noodles, and I give up.
He grins at me anyway, and it’s probably pity, but he looks very impressed. “You dug quite the hole. Just don’t fall in it later.”
“Can’t promise that. If you don’t hear from me, come looking. That’s probably where I’ll be. You can come save me again.”
He winks. “Deal. I like being the hero.”
“Different than being an arms dealer on the dark web?” I ask.
He makes a startled choking noise, almost like he’s forgotten how we met. His cheeks flush, and he shrugs. “I’ve had a lot of jobs over the years. This one might be my favorite.”
Fuck, the way he says that has me thinking all kinds of things I have no business fantasizing about. Like him staying. Like me waking up to him in the mornings. Like calling him mine. I distract myself by downing the rest of the pink drink, then wander to the fridge when I remember he went grocery shopping. I yank open the door, choking slightly when I see how much food he bought me.
“Thorne. What did you do? You bought enough for ten weeks.”
“Not if you’re feeding me too. I’m a big boy. I need my calories.”
Feeding him too? Like he’s staying. I need another drink. I go for the water instead, and I can feel all my dehydrated littlepores thanking me. It’s distracting enough I don’t get lost in thoughts I’m not supposed to be having.
