Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 56831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
“Maybe it’s for the best. That deadbeat didn’t deserve you.”
“You’re right, he didn’t, and I was better off without him. But then, why does this hurt so much?”
He started crying again, silently this time. Somehow, that was worse than the sobbing. When I put my arm around his shoulders, he curled into me. It didn’t feel awkward this time.
We stayed like that for a while, before I suggested, “You might feel better after you get some rest.”
He nodded and mumbled, “I’m exhausted.” Then he sat up and met my gaze with anguish in his eyes. “Will you please stay with me? I don’t want to be alone tonight.”
How could I possibly say no to that? I had to ask, though. “Are you really willing to bring a stranger into your home?” Not that I’d ever hurt him, not in a million years. But I wanted to know he generally made better decisions than this.
He shrugged. “All my single friends invite strangers over all the time—people they meet on dating apps. How is this different?”
As I got to my feet and helped him up, I said, “That’s a terrible idea too, and I hope you don’t do that.”
“I don’t.”
It turned out he was taller than I’d expected—about five-eleven or so, but I had a good four inches and at least sixty pounds on him. He swayed unsteadily, and I caught him and asked, “Where are we going?”
“Really? You’re staying?” When I nodded, he said, “Upstairs, to my mom’s apartment.”
“Are we going to wake anyone if we go up there?” His homicidal brother, for example.
“No. The apartment’s been empty for a couple of months, ever since Mom moved in with her fiancé.”
Romy went to reach for his duffle bag and almost fell over. I picked it up for him and hung it on my shoulder, and then I steadied him with an arm around his waist. He grabbed his keys and somehow remembered to lock the front door before saying, “Okay, here we go.”
We cut through the kitchen, and at the back of the building, a narrow staircase led to a small landing. He dropped his keys twice, so I unlocked the door to the apartment for him.
As I followed him inside, he said, “Just so you know, I don’t live here anymore. If my room seems childish, it’s because I hung on to some stuff from when I was little.” I didn’t know why my opinion would matter to him one way or another.
His small bedroom was cozy, with light blue walls, shelves crowded with books, and mismatched furniture. The only thing that made it seem like a kid’s room was the well-worn teddy bear on the twin bed.
As I put his bag on the desk, he muttered, “I really need a shower. I always take one right after work.”
“Is that the best idea? What if you fall over or pass out?”
He considered that as he pulled some clothes out of the dresser. Then he told me, “I’ll probably be okay, but I’ll leave the bathroom door open just in case. If you hear a crash, please come check on me.”
That wasn’t reassuring, and I paced and listened closely while he was in the shower across the hall. Fortunately, he didn’t take long. Less than ten minutes later, he reappeared wearing a UNLV T-shirt that was way too big on him, along with a pair of gym shorts that had seen better days.
He climbed into the narrow bed and wrapped his arms around the teddy bear. His lids started to get heavy right away as he mumbled, “Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up.”
There were many excellent reasons to say no to that. What if his brother came by in the morning? I was cornered and unarmed, and he’d probably try to kill me if he found me here. Or what if Romy ended up blacking out and forgetting we’d met? He certainly seemed drunk enough to do that. Wouldn’t he freak out when he woke up and found a stranger in his room?
Somehow though, I couldn’t stand the thought of him waking up to an empty apartment, not when he seemed so vulnerable. I tried asking, “Isn’t there anyone you could call to come over and stay with you? A friend or relative, maybe?”
He shook his head. “I want it to be you.”
“Why?”
“Because you make me feel safe.”
Fucking hell, this guy had terrible instincts. Who in their right mind, drunk or not, would take one look at me and come to that conclusion? It was like deciding a wolf would make a good house pet.
He whispered, “Please, Marcus.”
Fine. He had me, and damn the consequences. I pulled the desk chair over to his bedside, sat down, and told him, “I’ll be right here when you wake up. I promise.”