“Well, after you left I just sort of stood around for a while before going to my room?”
“Clari, are you asking me what you did, babe? Seriously, wake up and tell me,” he growls, pushing himself up to the headboard and reaching for a smoke.
“Gross.”
“It’s not to smoke, it’s just a habit from way back when. Talk.”
A deep breath doesn’t go far in settling my nerves, because as soon as I have to think about it, all I want to do is crawl out of my skin. See, this is me being me, and it turns out I’m not a cool, super ninja at all.
Guess I’ll have to revise my resume.
“I had a quick bath and got changed for bed,” I say, shrugging. “I went to sleep pretty easily, considering your parting shot, I think. I don’t know, Miah, I just went…went to sleep and woke up knowing that someone was outside. When I heard the…”
This is the part where I want to hyperventilate, because it feels like I’m still there in my bed, alone and cognisant of the fact that I’m about to be harmed.
“Shh, breathe, Clari,” he croons, pulling me over and onto his chest. “It’s okay, babe. You’re here with me and nothing can hurt you. Just remember that and tell me everything that happened after.”
His slow, measured breathing and the sound of his steady heartbeat have the desired effect, and I’m feeling more centered.
“I heard the window, but you know, part of me didn’t really think it was the window at all, like I wanted it not to be true. Anyway, it’s when I heard that damn figurine fall that I knew. Someone was coming in.”
“I knew that last window I looked at was beyond saving. Shit,” he snarls.
“Well, I mean part of me is glad it happened that way and they didn’t come through the door, because I wouldn’t have heard a thing otherwise. When I realized I was in trouble I grabbed my phone and started looking for a place to hide. The window seat was the only viable option, and believe me, after hearing one of them go for all the places I originally wanted to hide in, I’m just grateful I managed to get myself into that box.”
“What else?”
He sounds to calm and I wouldn’t know that he’s getting upset by his breathing or heartbeat or voice…but I somehow know that he’s angry.
“I called 9-1-1 and stayed where I was, barley breathing, though I swear, Miah, how they didn’t hear my heart racing is a freaking miracle. The first one stopped right beside the window and I almost peed my pants right there. I heard him say, ‘She’s not here,’ and then another guy I hadn’t known was there was saying how I had to be because my sheets were still warm and the bathtub still had some water drops in it. He would have found me if the police hadn’t arrived so quickly.”
That’s the weird part and the reason that I can’t wrap my head around things. The police got there really quickly.
“How did the cops get there so fast? Not that I’m complaining, but I live a little ways out for that kind of response.”
He shrugs and I feel his lips on my hair.
“Gonzalez drives by your place whenever he’s pulling nights. It’s a favor to me.”
“Well, that’s not weird.”
My sarcastic grumble gets me a tap to the behind before he jostles me with his shoulder.
“I want you to think now, Clari, really hard. Did you hear the second man at all before he spoke?”
“I don’t have to think about that, Miah. I know I didn’t. The first guy was kind of loud, though I don’t think I’d have heard him without the noise from the window, but I heard his footfalls real clear after, and I knew when he made his way from the living room to my door. The other guy wasn’t…he was silent. I didn’t even hear him walk up beside the first guy. Why?”
“Just wanted to get a feel for things, babe, that’s all.”
He’s lying. I don’t know how I know it, but I know. I’m too exhausted to dig deeper right now, so I stay silent and look around.
His bedroom is huge and I feel my face heat at the knowledge that my house was no bigger than this place from start to finish. And that’s without counting the en-suite bathroom or the closet I spy to the left.
Miah is rich. I knew it before but actually being here and getting a look at his space is different. This view of his closet so perfectly organized and full enough of designer wear tells me that he’s got his own money, not just family money, and I am so out of my league, it’s laughable.
“What? What’s wrong?” he demands, and I realize I’ve tensed and made a mewling noise.
I don’t want him to be out of my league.