I smiled through the tears. "Yeah?"
I felt him nod. "I mean it. Move in with me. Right now, today. This'll be our home. Together, alright?"
I clung to him, soaking up his strength and the unexpected offer. A real home. I couldn't even imagine. Then again, I guess I could. When I was with Lawton, I didn't feel like some sort of interloper. I felt like I belonged.
It had nothing to do with the size of his house or the opulence surrounding us. It had to do with him. Just him. We clicked in ways that had nothing to do with fame, fortune, or heart-stopping good looks.
It was a tempting offer, and would solve so many of my problems. But part of me was still old-fashioned. Moving in wasn't exactly the offer of my dreams, even if it was pretty spectacular.
Still, I felt myself smile against his chest. "I'll think about it," I said.
"Don't think. Just do it." And then, he pulled away. He looked down at me an expression bordering on desperation.
"You don't want to take money from me," he said. "I get that. And I respect the hell out of that, honest. But baby, please. Come on. Stay with me. Or shit, I'll buy you a house of your own if that's what you want. Just no more other guys anymore, alright?"
I felt my eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he said, "I love you."
"I love you too."
He reached out, gathering me into his arms once again. I felt his grip tighten and heard his voice, a low whisper in my ear. "You don't have to sell yourself anymore. From now on, let me take care of you, alright?"
Slowly, his words sank into my brain. I felt myself stiffen. I pulled back and gave him a hard look. "Sell myself?" I said.
Chapter 50
He leaned close, trying once again to pull me into his arms. I pushed away and looked up at him. "Just what are you implying?" I said.
"Baby," he said. "I don't want to judge you. I mean, the things I've done for money–" He blew out a breath. "In a way, I guess I sold my body too, right?"
Slowly the pieces started to click. And once they did, they clicked so hard and so fast that I had a hard time staying upright. "Oh my God," I said, stepping away from him.
"Hey," he said, his voice filled with sympathy. "Like I said, I don't wanna judge you for doing what you had to do, but—" He shook his head. "It stops now, alright? You've gotta promise me."
I closed my eyes, feeling all the color drain from my face. When I opened them again, he was staring at me with a look of such pity, I wanted to slap that look right off his face, and then kick him in the balls for good measure.
"Let me get this straight," I said. As I stared up at him, my body trembled, and my voice rose. "You think—" I felt myself swallow. "You think I'm some kind of hooker?"
"Chloe." His voice was soft. "I didn't call it that."
"But that's what you think?" I stumbled backwards. Breathing hard, I pushed my hands through my hair. It was official. This day was a nightmare.
"Baby," he said. "What is it? You okay?"
I glared up at him. "Okay?" I shook my head. "Nope. Definitely not okay here."
I cupped my hands around my mouth and hollered toward the interior of the house. "Chucky! C'mon! We're leaving!"
"What?" He reached for my hand. "Why?"
I slapped the hand away. "Don't touch me."
"Why not?"
"Because, you idiot, I'm not a hooker." I spoke very slowly and clearly, enunciating every word. "I'm a house-sitter!"
His jaw dropped. "What?"
"Oh yeah." When I tried to laugh, it came out half-crazed. "Big difference there, huh?" I turned away and shouted out again, "Chucky, where are you?"
With muttered curses, I stalked toward the kitchen. I felt a hand on my elbow. I shook it off and whirled to face him. "I already told you, stay away from me!"
Lawton stared at me with a pained expression. "So those guys–"
"Who?" I said. "The property manager who stopped by this morning?"
He swallowed. "Property manager?"
"Or maybe," I said, "you meant the financial guy?"
"Financial guy?"
"Yeah. The guy on the porch." I gave Lawton a cold smile. "And just so you know, when I say financial guy, I mean someone who manages the home-owner's accounts, not for example, some fucking pimp!"
As I spoke, Lawton's face grew paler and paler, until he looked white as death.
"And the call last night?" he said.
"It was just what I said. And in case you're wondering, she's a woman. And she called me last night because their accounts are all screwed up, which, in case it hasn't escaped your attention, is a whole lot different than screwing for money!"
His brow furrowed. "So she's the home-owner?"
"Renter, owner, hell, at this point, I have no idea. But she definitely lives there." I crossed my arms. "Except, I guess, when she's off in Costa Rica with her husband."
Lawton shook his head. "But the guy who lives in that house, he's not married."
"Oh yeah? How do you know?"
"Bishop told me."
"Yeah? Well, maybe he's wrong."
"No. He's never wrong."
I gave him an icy smile. "Then maybe you should ask Bishop whether or not I'm hooker. I mean, he knows everything, right?" I threw up my arms. "Why am I even discussing this with you?" I turned to call over my shoulder. "Chucky!"
Lawton reached out for me. "Baby, c'mon, don't go. Not like this."
I slapped his arms aside. "Look, let me make this really clear. Whatever we had, it's over."
He shook his head. "Don't say that. C'mon. I’m sorry, alright?"
"No," I said. "It's not alright. What is it with you? Why do always assume the worst about me?"
"I don't."
"You do." I turned and stalked through the house, looking for Chucky, and beyond eager to leave.
"C'mon, Chloe." Lawton's voice broke. "Don’t go like this."
I whirled to face him. "You've got to promise me something."
"Anything," he said.
"Don't call me. Don't talk to me. Don't–"
"Baby, c'mon—"
"Don't write me. Don't email me. Don't text me. And, if you see me on the street, don't fucking wave to me." I choked down a sob. "Just leave me alone, alright?"
He reached out, trying to gather me in his arms. Again, I slapped his hands aside. "What part of leave me alone don't you understand?"
"But Baby, you're upset."
"Of course I’m upset! My boyfriend—" I raised my hand. "No. Make that my ex-boyfriend, thinks I’m a damn hooker!"
"Chloe, c'mon, don't say that. That's not the way I thought of it."
"Yeah, right," I said, taking a deep breath and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Now, promise me."
"To leave you alone?" His lips parted, and his eyes were glassy. "I can't."
"If you ever loved me," I said, "you can."
"Don’t ask me to," he said. "Beat me, yell at me, whatever, but don't make me do this. Please."
I made a scoffing sound. "Look," I said, "All the time I've known you, I've never asked you for one fucking thing. And I know damn well that other girls have. So now, this is it, the first thing I've ever asked, and you can't even say 'yes'."
"Baby—"
"Promise me. I mean it."
I needed a promise, because there was one thing I'd learned the hard way. The guy was impossible to resist, and I was too tired to try.
"And if I do promise you?" he said. "What then?"
I looked away. "I don't know."
His voice was ragged. "Are you saying there's a chance?"
"Yeah," I said. "Slim to none."
"I am so fucking sorry," he said.
"You already said that."
Just then, Chucky skidded around the corner, one of Lawton's socks dangling from his teeth.
For Chucky's sake, I tried to keep my voice calm. "C'mon Chucky, time to go."
Lawton's voice was just a whisper. "Don't go.
Please?"
I gave him a deadpan look. "Where's my promise?"
"I can't."
"Alright, fine. Whatever. I guess it's all about you, huh? Heaven forbid you do anything you don't want to."
He was silent, and so was I. Chucky looked from me to Lawton and back again.
The seconds stretched, and then Lawton spoke as if the words were torn from his throat along with his heart. "Okay."
"Say it," I said.
"I promise."
I gave him a slow nod, and turned toward the door.
"Wait," he said.
I turned around.
"I'm not giving up," he said.
"Well so much for your promises," I said. "What'd that last? Two seconds?"
"I'll keep it," he said, "even if it kills me."
"I mean it," I said. "Even if you see me in the supermarket, just keep on going. Alright?"
Instantly, it struck me as an incredibly stupid thing to say. Did billionaires even visit supermarkets? Whatever. As long as he got the point, right?
Slowly, he nodded. But then he spoke, a strangled whisper in the quiet room. "You call me. I'll be waiting."
"Then you'll be waiting a long time," I said.
"I don't care," he said. "Call me anytime. Day, night, middle of the night. I don't care. Just call me. Okay?
"Don't count on it," I said. And then, with Chucky in my arms, I headed toward the front door, opened it up, and walked out. When I hit the front walkway, I set Chucky down. He plopped down on the walkway and refused to budge.
"Damn it," I muttered and scooped him up. He wriggled the whole time I walked toward iron gate, still open from when we'd arrived. The short walk seemed to take forever. But when the gate was finally behind me, I stopped and turned around. Chucky gave a long, plaintive whine.
Lawton stood, framed in his doorway, looking out at me with an expression of such anguish that the lump in my throat grew to epic proportions. I choked it down and turned away, hugging Chucky close as I made my way along the smooth sidewalk.
"Time to go home," I said.
Of course, the home might be Chucky's, but it wasn't mine, because, let's face it, I didn't have one.
Chapter 51
Work, sleep, mope, walk Chucky – the days dragged on with very little change.
At work, Brittney finished all the required training and went out on her own. She was still rude and barely competent, but at least she wasn't my problem anymore. True, I saw her more often than I liked, but she barely spoke to me, and I was happy to return the favor.
Slowly, but surely, those with the flu were returning back to work. I kept waiting for the axe to fall, but somehow it never did.
Instead, I kept getting the worst shifts on the worst nights. I was the first to get sent home and the last to be called in when someone else was sick. I should've cared, but somehow, I couldn't make myself give it more than a passing thought.
Slowly, but surely, I was sinking deeper into a financial hole. But I'd been sinking so long that I was almost used to it. So I did what I always did. I sent out resumes, went on interviews, and curbed any expense I could think of.
At the Parkers, I worked hard to keep myself busy, cleaning, organizing, and consoling Chucky as best I could. For both our sakes, I'd started walking him along a different route, avoiding Lawton's place like the plague it had become.
To my surprise and relief, he kept his promise. I missed him. I thought about him every day. I longed to feel his arms around me and hear his voice in my ear. But wanting him so bad that it made my heart ache didn't mean I should go back to him.
I was on my third week of moping when the sound of the doorbell woke me from a nap on the couch. With weary resignation, I dragged myself up and stumbled, still half asleep, to the door and peered out the peephole.
Who I saw there didn't make me happy. I opened the door and glared at him. "What do you want?"
If Bishop was surprised by my rudeness, he gave no indication. "Got a minute?"
"No."
"That's too bad," he said. "Because I came to apologize."
When I didn't respond, he added, "From what I hear, girls like that sort of thing."
I narrowed my gaze. "Is this some kind of trick?"
"No trick," he said. "I'm assuming you're not gonna invite me in?"
"Got that right."
"Figured as much. Wanna talk outside?"
"Not particularly," I said.
"But you will anyway."
"What makes you say that?"
"Because you're curious what I'll say." He flicked his head toward the interior of the house. "Go ahead, grab a coat. I'll wait here."
"Yeah, you do that," I said, slamming the door in his face.
I stalked back to the couch and threw myself down on it, determined to go back to sleep. Whatever he was planning to say, I didn't want to hear it. What would he say, anyway? Was he really going to apologize? And if so, for what, specifically?
I closed my eyes and tried to drift. That lasted less than five minutes. It was no use. I was curious. "Damn it," I muttered and got up to retrieve my coat.
I went outside, slamming the front door behind me.
He was still there.
"You got five minutes," I told him.
"Alright," he said. "But just so you know, I'm going to save the actual apology for the end, so you don't run off before."
"Fine. As long as you're within five minutes." I made a show of looking at my wrist.
Bishop glanced down at my empty wrist. "That only works if you're wearing a watch."
"Not if you got the message."
"Fair enough." He glanced past me to the Parkers' front door. "A while back, I went into that house when you weren't home."
I made my eyes obnoxiously wide. "You did? I had no idea." I put a finger to my chin. "Gee, did you do anything else, by any chance?"
"I went through your purse. I checked out your license." He shrugged. "Gave the dog a few snacks. He seemed to like the bacon ones best."
"Is there an apology coming any time soon?" I asked.
"Alright. I shouldn’t have done it. And I apologize."
"So," I said, "Lawton told you that I knew about that, huh?"
"Yup."
"Let me ask you something. If I had never found out, would you still be apologizing?"
"Nope."
"And why is that?
"Because I'm not stupid."
"You really are a dick, you know that, right?"
"Hey, have I ever denied it?"
"No. But I kind of wish you would. You really know how to take the fun out of it."
"I'll keep that in mind."
I narrowed my gaze. "Did Lawton make you do this? Because it seems to me, you're a little late to the whole apology parade."
"No. And he doesn't know I'm here."
"So why are you?"
"Because he loves you, and I don't want to be the one standing in the way of that."
"Don't worry," I said. "It's not you. For starters, he thinks I'm a damn hooker."
Bishop grinned. "I think you set him straight on that."
"Oh, shut up." I crossed my arms. "So, tell me, why'd you do it? Why'd you go through my things?"
"You got a younger brother, right?"
I nodded.
"Let me ask you something. What would you do to protect him?"
I didn't even bother lying. "Just about anything," I said.
"Well, there you go."
"But he didn't need protection from me," I said.
Bishop only shrugged.
"How'd you get in here, anyway," I said.
"Now that, I'm not gonna answer."
"Why not?"
"Trade secret," he said.
"Oh for crying out loud. Fine, let me ask you something else. Those guys who attacked me, what happened with that? Why wouldn't they report you to the police?"
"Because they know better."
"And why would you do that, anywa
y?"
"Do what?"
"Oh for crying out loud. You undressed them. You –"
"Technically," Bishop said, "they undressed themselves."
I gave Bishop a dubious look. "Willingly?"
"Sort of."
"Uh-huh," I said. "So then, you shove them in a trunk and drop them off in a public place. And the way it sounds, you threaten them on top of it."
"Is that a complaint?" Bishop said. "You think we should've let it go? Pretend it didn't happen?"
"I don’t know what I think," I said.
"Want my take on it?"
"Not really."
"I'll take that as a yes," he said. "Whether you admit it or not, you're glad we did it. For what they did, they deserved it. So we gave it to 'em. But now that it's all done, and some time has passed, you want the luxury of feeling bad about it."
"I don't feel bad for them," I said.
"You're right. You don't. Not deep down. But it makes you feel good to think you do."
"You're so full of it," I said.
"Hey, I'm not complaining," he said. "It's the way it works. Some people, they do the things that need doing. And others, they get to sit back, nice and safe, with clean hands and a cleaner conscience." He shrugged. "I'm alright with that. And so is Lawton."
"But you beat the hell out of them," I said.
"No," he said. "Lawton beat the hell out of 'em. And you know damn well he could've hurt 'em a hell of a lot worse."
"Maybe he didn't need to hurt them at all," I said. "I mean, you guys embarrassed the crap out of them. Wasn't that enough?"
"Lemme put it this way. You're the girl he loves. Those guys? They scared you. They hurt you. You remember that night, right?"
I nodded, swallowing the fear and desperation I'd felt at the time.
"Yeah," Bishop said as if reading my mind. "There was two of them and one of you." Slowly, he shook his head. "Lawton couldn’t let that go. And if you don't get that, maybe you don't know him as well as you think."
I heard myself ask, "How's he doing?" Probably, I shouldn't care. But I did care. I cared so damn much, I could hardly stand it.
Bishop shook his head. "Not good. But you didn't hear it from me."
I didn't know what to say to that, so I said nothing except a brief goodbye and headed back inside, closing the door behind me.
Inside the house, I sat on the couch for the longest time. Maybe Bishop was right. Maybe I didn’t know Lawton at all. Or maybe I did, and I just didn't want to face it.
Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) Page 18