Page 13 of Faded Rhythm
King
She enters the room before I do, and even from behind, I can tell she isn’t very pleased with the accommodations.
West Avenue Inn and Suites was the closest. I figured she’d wanna be near the girls just in case.
She’ll be alright.
It’s a small room, I admit, but it seems efficient. The lights buzz faintly overheard. The gray carpet smells faintly of cleaning product and chlorine. I almost run into the back of her when she stops in the middle of the room.
Oh.
I see what she’s looking at.
She turns away from the single queen-sized bed to look at me, one eyebrow raised.
“I’ll sleep in the chair,” I say quickly. “I asked for two beds, I swear.”
Our eyes move to the chair at the same time. The pattern is ugly as hell. Thin cushion. Wooden arms. No recline. It looks like a good place to put a suspect for aggressive questioning.
She sighs, letting her overnight bag drop from her arms. It hits the floor with a dull thud and she hits the bed, belly-first, her hair spilling around her shoulders like black silk.
“You need a nap?” I ask, watching the slow rise and fall of her back with each deep breath.
“Mm mm,” she hums without lifting her head. “I know we have work to do. Just give me sixty seconds.”
I nod, setting both of our laptops on the small wooden desk. Mine is black, a rugged brick of a machine. This thing is built for war. Hers is sleek, slim, and civilian. Made for online shopping and blogging. Do people still do that?
Behind me, she heaves herself off the bed with a soft grunt, coming to stand beside me.
“I knew you were military.”
I look up at her. “What does that mean?”
She smirks. “The way you talk. It reminded me of my grandaddy. And now that I see that,” she says, pointing at my laptop, “I see I was right.”
I neither confirm nor deny this.
“My dad and granddaddy were in the army,” she continues.
I power up my laptop.
“And I noticed you made the girls’ beds with hospital corners.”
I lift a shoulder.
She pauses, then adds softly, “But you’re not just a soldier.”
That pricks me a little, but I don’t react. I enter my passwords quickly.
“My grandpa was special forces. He talked like you, very no-nonsense and emotionless. And y’all have similar posture.”
I clear my throat. “I need you to think real hard. About everything. Conversations. Details. Patterns. Arguments. Anything about Brett that felt…off.”
She crosses her arms, her face going hard. “Before I give you more pieces of my soul, can you give me something? One thing. Just one damn detail about you.”
I sigh and scrub a hand down my face. She’s getting on my nerves, and under my skin.
“I don’t talk about my life.”
“You just did,” she snaps. “I guessed and you didn’t deny it.”
I press my lips together, staying silent.
“It’s not fair,” she says, her voice going softer. “You want me to be honest with you while you keep everything locked away. I’m only asking for one thing. Anything .”
My fingers hover over the keyboard as I mentally scroll through every impersonal fact about me. I’m searching for the safest one. The one that costs me the least.
Finally, I mutter, “I don’t have a family.”
It’s silent.
Then her voice cuts through the air, soft but sharp.
“So, what happened?”
I snap my head toward her. “Don’t.”
She recoils slightly but doesn’t back down. “I just—“
“I said don’t , Sable. We’re not talking about it. I ain’t gon’ say it again.”
Our eyes meet.
She doesn’t look away like she did earlier this morning. She doesn’t even blink. No retreating. Just fire in her eyes, a challenge she’s determined to win. Her pupils dilate slightly, her lips part just enough, and in the space between us, the air thickens with tension.
Fuck .
I want her.
I want her in a way I haven’t let myself want anything in a long time.
I’m the first one to break, but my eyes don’t go far.
I let my gaze drop to her mouth, full and soft.
I wonder how Brett treated those lips. If he kissed her like he meant it.
And then I wonder how the fuck he could live in the same house as this woman and not wake up every morning starving for her.
Like I did.
My skin tingles mercilessly. My pants are suddenly tighter.
I look away. Fast.
She chuckles under her breath. Now, I’m pissed that I let her get me off balance like this.
That’s something else I can’t afford.
Thankfully, she walks away. I watch as she digs through one of her bags, finally producing something small and silver. She holds it delicately like it’s a bomb ready to explode.
“I found this in Brett’s safe deposit box,” she says as she returns to my side. “There were six of them. I didn’t think he’d miss one.”
I eye the USB, then her. “This is the kind of information you share, Sable.” I take it from her, turning it over and over in my hand, looking for clues. “Standard,” I mutter to myself.
I plug it into my laptop as she moves to stand behind me. She’s hovering. Too close. My neck stiffens. My fingers flex. I don’t like people in my blind spot.
She notices. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re behind me,” I grit. “I don’t like people standing behind me.”
She sucks her teeth, then moves around and sits in the tiny space between me and the wooden armrest. I grimace as she shimmies her hips, forcing me to scoot over to accommodate her.
But the chair’s too small.
And now her thigh is pressed against mine.
Jesus.
Her presence overwhelms me. And it’s not just her body. Her touch. It’s her hair…smelling faintly like coconut and something else sweet and creamy. Her lotion—cocoa butter. Her perfume…like a fresh honeysuckle. It’s soft and feminine and wrecking my fucking concentration.
Her arm brushes mine.
This shit is unbearable. She’s so fucking warm .
I try to focus. My finger is moving on the mouse. I’m scrolling. But I don’t see shit. Only her.
Then her hand shoots out. She’s pointing at the screen.
“Wait! Go back. What’s that?”
And just like that, the spell breaks.
I lean in, eyes narrowing on the file name she spotted. My fingers move quickly over the keys, but my thoughts are still divided.
Half of me wants to know what’s on this drive, but the other half wants to pull her into my lap and kiss her until the world disappears.