Page 46 of The Fractured

Jane: Because you need to see it in person.

She added a smirking emoji, and I smiled to myself as I responded.

Me: You’re weird.

Jane: See you Saturday!

It was past 1 AM as I shuffled back to bed from my bathroom, feeling my way through the dark until I was tucked beneath the covers again. Curling myself around the wheat bag, I nestled my head into my pillow. As I closed my eyes, the room was illuminated by my phone.

I reached for it and remained beneath the covers as I opened the text from Dean.

Dean: Leaving his house. You probably won’t get this until morning, but goodnight x

I smiled faintly and tapped out a response, sending it off with a yawn.

Me: Night x

Dean: You’re up late.

Me: Can’t sleep. Cramping.

Dean: What do you need?

Me: Snacks and back rubs?

Dean: On my way.

I stared at that message for longer than I meant to, wondering how many more of them I would get before all of this was over. My hormones were making me a little sentimental. An all too familiar lump was forming in my throat before I locked my phone and rolled onto my back.

The days I had with him were limited and disappearing fast with every piece of information Dad was using to build his case.

Half an hour later, as I waited for another text from him to let me know he was downstairs, there was a knock on the apartment door, and I sat up with a frown.

I climbed out of bed and quietly made my way through the apartment, making a mental note to get a spare key made as I felt my way down the short, dark hallway to the front door. Suddenly remembering the acne cream on my chin, I hastily rubbed it in as I pulled the door open.

His sandalwood and leather scent greeted my senses as I found Dean leaning against the door frame. Dressed in a dark, blue-black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattooed forearms, I figured he came from a job that required a more formal setting. His black hair was combed back, except for a few stubborn strands that hung across his brow in the way I loved, and in his hand was a small plastic container.

At first, he was simply gazing towards the elevator as he waited. When the door opened, pulling his attention to me, a soft smile appeared on his face.

“I brought leftover cannoli.” He lifted the box for emphasis as he pushed away from the door frame.

I groaned happily as I eyed the box. “Did I mention I love you?”

He huffed a laugh as he considered the box. “They’re sort of a peace offering too.”

“For what?”

The grimace on his face was subtle. “Our disagreement on the weekend.”

“You already apologized for that.”

“I know, but it didn’t seem like enough. I wasn’t fair to you, and you made a good point. So…” When he began lowering himself to one knee in the middle of the corridor, my eyebrows went up in surprise. He half smiled while looking up at me. “Forgive me, Lily. And if I ever speak to you that way again, or raise my voice—”

“You didn’t raise your voice,” I said gently.

“But if I ever do, with you, please slap me upside the head, alright?”

“Okay, that’s a little extreme, but,” I took his hand, indicating he could stand, and laughed a little, “You’re forgiven… Now come inside before Susan spots us and thinks you’re proposing.”