Page 107

I didn’t sleep. I didn’t dream. I didn’t cry out for Caleb when the loneliness was unbearable or when the shadows scared me. I’m giving him time to think about the case, about me. And it is excruciating.
Yesterday I peeked out the peephole of the door at least a hundred times, and each time found Caleb in a different position of despair. Or maybe he was constipated. It’s hard to tell through those miniature windows. But after he delivered me some of the best food and treats I’ve ever had, he never knocked on my door again. He sat out there, furiously typing and hitting his phone like that was the only way he knew how to fix things. Now, it’s 9 a.m. and I’m eagerly waiting for him to come over, to say something, anything really. I need human interaction like I need the blood in my veins. Or maybe I need him.
But I can be patient while he figures himself out. Okay, I can pretend to be patient, for a little longer.
There’s a knock on the door and I jump, dropping my curling iron to the bathroom floor. It singes my right leg on the way down and I scream.
“Amelia?” Caleb’s concerned yell is the only warning before he rushes into my bathroom. “What’s wrong?” He looks me over, and I do the same to him. Forget the burn on my leg, he looks absolutely delectable in his black shirt and cargo pants, badge on the hip, and gun in a holster.
“Amelia?” he asks again.
I focus my wandering eyes on his concerned ones. “I’m fine. Just dropped the curling iron.”
“On your leg?” He points to the angry red spot on my upper thigh, below the ragged edge of my cut-off shorts.
“Yeah. It’s fine.”
He doesn’t say anything before he turns from the bathroom. A moment later, I hear my bedroom door click shut.
I frown at my reflection in the mirror. The girl frowning back at me still has some hope in that man and I want to tell her to forget it. He likes running awa—
The door to my room beeps and Caleb comes striding back in with something in his hand.
He drops to his knees on the hard tile and opens a small tube of…is that burn cream?
“Caleb?”
“Yes?”
“Where did you find burn cream in under twenty seconds?”
“My room. It was in my go bag,” he says as if that makes all the sense in the world. He squeezes a generous drop on his finger and gently rubs it on the angry red welt. His other hand cups the back of my thigh and the entire right side of my body is at risk of being paralyzed like this forever. He rubs the cream until it disappears into my skin, so he gets another dab.
“Do you think that will suffice?” I ask, unable to stop my heart from racing at his tenderness.
He flashes me a smirk. “Only until the next time, menace.”
I try to knee him but he holds my leg tight. “Danger finds me.”
His smile fades. “I wish it didn’t.” He releases my leg and puts the tube on the vanity, then turns from the bathroom again.
I unplug the curling iron and follow him. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” Besides pretending yesterday didn’t happen. “Another stakeout?”
He clears his throat and rakes a hand through his hair. “Actually, I came to tell you I’m leaving.”
“Let me grab my purse.” I move to the dresser, but Caleb catches my wrist.
“Amelia.” His voice is off, and I go still. “You’re staying here.”
My back is to him and I’m grateful for it. I don’t want him to see how much his constant rejection hurts.
“Why? Where are you going?”
His chest brushes my back and I want to cave into him. I want to believe that every time I fall he will hold me up, that he’s going to stick around.
“I can’t tell you that.”
I force a laugh and spin around. “I don’t know why I asked.”