Fighting Silence (On the Ropes #1)(21)

“You really think he’s dead?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s probably still breathing. But he’s dead to me all the same.”

I eyed him warily, unsure how to react to this news. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. But here was always one thing that worked for us. Humor.

“Okay. If the cops come calling, you were with me all night. I haven’t left this apartment since noon. You came in the window soon after. We ate leftover spaghetti then watched Dancing With the Stars. We had sex—you came, I didn’t.”

He began to laugh, burying his head in my neck.

“Then you sang me hymns to combat my newfound insomnia.”

“Hymns? Really, Doodle? Shit. I’m going to jail for life,” he complained before grabbing my ass.

“Hey. Hands!” I halfheartedly slapped his hand.

“Sorry. I needed one last taste of a woman before I’m checking out asses every time soap is dropped in the shower.”

I burst into laughter and tears at the same time.

“Shhhh. I’m kidding. I’m not going to jail. Bad guys don’t rat out other bad guys to the cops.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, staring up through my lashes into his gold-flecked eyes.

“Positive.” He smiled and brushed the hair from my face.

“I’ve really missed you,” I boldly confessed.

His eyes warmed as emotion made its way from under his tough exterior. “I’ve missed you too. I’m sorry I ruined us.”

“Hey, you didn’t ruin us. In the morning, we just go back to being friends. We’re good at that. The past is done. Just friends from here on out. Tomorrow starts real life . . . together. I’m going to help you find an apartment. You need to get out of your parents,’ and we can meet here every night just like the old place. Only this time, I’ll bring the power and you bring the food.” I smiled.

“You think we can do friends again?” He looked downright hopeful as he asked.

“Not if you don’t get out of my bed and stop grabbing my ass. You can sleep on my couch until you find a place. Okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Hey, when was the last time you saw a doctor about your hearing?” I asked, causing him to groan.

“About three years ago,” he said as he rolled out of bed and headed for the window.

“You need to get that checked out, Till.”

“Yeah, I know,” he called over his shoulder as he climbed outside.

“I’m serious. That’s not something to play around with. Maybe the specialist could do something to prevent it. You never know until you ask.”

“I’ll make an appointment. I swear,” he lied, but I had to let it go.

I couldn’t force him into a doctor’s office no matter how much this new revelation worried me.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To lock up my truck. There was a crazy woman who left the door standing wide open earlier.” He flashed me a smile.

“You know I have a door, right?”

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, I know, Doodle.”

“Umm . . . then why don’t you use it?”

He stared at me for a few seconds from outside my window before finally answering, “Because I’m afraid it would change everything.”

“It’s a door, Till. I’m relatively sure the sheer magnitude of you walking through it wouldn’t knock the Earth out of orbit.”

“Maybe not, but I need you too damn bad to chance it,” he said, and it forced the smile to fall from my face. “I decided a long time ago that the window at the old apartment was some kind of portal to a whole other dimension. One where life was easy and people like you existed. I used to think that, if I came in the door, you’d be gone. We might be starting in the real world together, but I’m still not ready to let go of the fantasy.”

“Till,” I breathed when further words failed me.

“Yeah. Anyway. I’ll be right back. Leave this open for me, okay?” He winked before walking away.

Thankfully, I was never kidnapped or robbed, because from that day forward, I never once locked my window. And no matter how ridiculous it was, I smiled daily when Till came climbing through it.





I STAYED AT ELIZA’S APARTMENT for a few weeks. It was the best possible feeling, having her around all the time again, but I felt like a worthless dick sleeping on her couch. I spent what little money I had on food to at least make it look like I was helping out, but she still cooked me dinner every night.

Going back to being friends wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d worried it would be. Was I still attracted to her? Absolutely. But keeping her in my life meant not acting on it. Our new relationship only vaguely resembled the old one. Gone were the hours spent cuddling or lying in her lap. Before we’d had sex, I’d touched Eliza all the time. There had been nothing to read into from those forehead kisses and innocent moments spent holding each other. But now, I knew her body, so every brush of our skin reminded me what it felt like to have her naked underneath me. Neither of us could deny that the spark was there; we just had to avoid it. I’d only actually had her for one night, but my hands ached to touch her as if it were the norm.

Those first few weeks killed me. Life carried on though. I got word that my father had landed himself in jail after the police had found him bloody and beaten that night. His pockets were apparently filled with meth, so he was slapped with several possession charges, earning himself an extended vacation at the prison. I didn’t give a damn if it was a life sentence though. He was dead to me. I told Eliza bits and pieces of the night, but as a whole, I just tried to put it out of my mind.