Page 90 of Surviving Slater

"Jeff organized one of his guys to keep an eye on you."

"But why?"

"I was worried about you. I have seen what drug addiction does to people and I didn't want to take any chances with you. I had to put space between us but I needed to know that you were okay and the only way to do that was to have someone else watch over you."

It was mind-blowing and a little creepy.

"You have to learn to trust me and I have to learn to trust you."

He nodded. I yawned, the events of the day catching up with me.

"You're tired."

"I need to go back," I said. "If I stay out too late my mom will worry."

"I'll take you home."

Chapter Twenty-Two

The driveback to my house was surreal. I kept looking at him while he was concentrating on driving. Although we were now together, I still couldn't shake the feeling that despite his words he was just waiting for one of us to screw this up.

I should have come clean about digging into his past but I knew the start of our relationship wouldn't survive the bombshell.

What did it matter, anyway? I hoped with time we would grow close enough for him to tell me about her. Then would Connor's information really mean that much at all? The bottom line was I would know the details of his sister's death, so did it matter who the source had been? In my mind I was trying to rationalize my actions so I didn't feel guilty for deceiving him.

"What's wrong?" Slater asked. I looked at him but his eyes were still fixed in front of him.

Had he felt my eyes on him?

"Nothing," I said. I shrugged dismissively.

Telling him about me checking into his background wasn't an option. If the guilt became too much I could tell him later, maybe, when our connection was stronger and could withstand the hit.

But you don't know how long this is going to last,I reminded myself. Just because we cared about each other didn't mean this was going to work. For all I knew this could disintegrate, and I believed understanding his pain would help me cope if it didn't work out.

He didn't ask for any directions and knew exactly where I lived. It was a little disconcerting.

When he pulled up in my driveway, all the visitors were gone. It was late and I was pretty sure my mom was probably fast asleep already. He parked the car and got out. I waited until he opened the passenger door and picked me up. He carried me to the front door before he set me down on my feet.

I was still dressed in his clothes, since my other clothes and shoes were still wet. I was transported back into a time when I was a teenager as we stood there, unsure of what to do.

"Thank you for the lift home," I said.

"You're welcome." He reached out and took my hand into his. The act was so strange but I liked the way it made me feel.

"When will you be leaving to go back?" he asked, brushing his hand against my fingers.

"Tomorrow," I said. I had missed so much school already and there would be a few late nights needed to catch up.

"Let me know when you're ready and I'll take you back."

"Thanks," I replied. I smiled, a true smile despite my insecurities regarding the path that lay ahead of us.

He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.

We were like two toddlers learning to walk together, hand in hand.

That night was the first night in a long time that I didn't have a nightmare about my childhood. I don't know what had changed. Had it been the letter—the admission of guilt—that had made the difference? Or had it been the unloading of the dark secret to Slater that had set me free in some way?