Dirty Little Secrets (Dirty Little #1)(22)
After, I’m leaning against the wall with my head pressed against it, my body too weak to hold itself up without assistance. Caleb turns me in his arms, and gives me a soft, breathless kiss.
“I was bored the day we met,” he says, looking down at me with heavy-lidded eyes. “I walked into that bar on a whim.”
I want to tell him that I’m glad he did, but I keep my mouth shut until he says what it is he wants to say.
“I don’t have a history of making good decisions in bars,” he admits, his nose brushing against mine before he leans in for another kiss. “But now I do.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“I wish you would let me come and pick you up,” Caleb says. “I’m leaving the office now, I can come and get you on my way home.”
“No, it’s okay,” I tell him. “It’s out of the way, and will take longer. Besides, I’m already on my way to you.” I’ve been staying in this shitty hotel for almost three weeks now, and all of my tracking programs are showing the same thing that they have since I left Chicago: absolutely nothing. Every day I feel braver, am a little less paranoid when I step out into public. I’m willing to leave some of my clothes in the hotel at this point, but never my computer. I still carry it everywhere with me, but every day I think that maybe, maybe someday soon I’ll feel comfortable walking around without it. Every day I think maybe this will all turn out okay.
I blatantly ignore the fact that at some point I’m going to have to deal with the friends I left back home, who are going to wonder what happened to me, and why I haven’t come back. I wonder if I could gradually phase them out, and just lose touch with them. The thought of not going back home again gives me this pang of sadness in my belly, but it’s better than the alternative. If not being able to go back to Chicago is the only price I wind up paying for what I did, then I’m going to consider myself truly lucky.
“Mia,” Caleb says, sounding exasperated. He doesn’t like me walking alone when he can send the car for me, I know this.
“You can keep me company while I walk.” I’m hoping that agreeing to stay on the phone while I walk will placate him.
“Okay,” he says warily. “Tell me about your day.”
“I did some coding, ventured out into the sunlight to get a salad at the deli on the corner. I talked to a friend for a little while. That’s pretty much it.”
“Sounds exciting,” he says dryly.
“The most exciting part of my day usually comes at night.” I’m grinning, because the thought of going to see him makes me feel like wild butterflies have taken up residence in my stomach. It’s like I don’t have a care in the world.
“Literally,” he replies.
“Literally,” I repeat, laughing. “How was your day?”
“Too long. I sat through never-ending conference calls, and all I could think about was you.”
“I’ll be there soon enough,” I tell him. “I just wanted to get some fresh air, and I’ll be there in no time. What was your conference call about?”
“I don’t want you to fall asleep while you’re walking.”
I laugh. “Please, tell me.”
As he recounts the business of his day, I hustle, trying to make it a few more blocks, so my cab fare the rest of the way is cheaper. I like listening to the steady sound of Caleb’s voice; I get lost in it, even, to the point where I’m just going through the motions of walking, not really paying much attention to what I’m doing. Vaguely, I hear the thrum of running footsteps, but I don’t pay them any mind.
All of a sudden, there’s a hard tug on my arm, and I feel the straps of my bag slide down. I manage to catch it with my hand, and tug. I know this is a stupid thing to do, and I know it goes against every single piece of advice about being robbed that I’ve ever heard, that no material thing is worth my life.
“No,” I yell. “No!”
In the background, through the speaker of my phone, Caleb is frantically calling my name.
I can’t see the face of the man who is robbing me; I only get a glimpse of his jaw as his fist connects with my face. I fall to the ground, my head hitting something hard, and then everything goes black.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
My head feels stuffy and full, like every available bit of space inside of it is packed with cotton. The right side of my face is throbbing, and I know it’s swollen, because the skin feels stretched to its limit. I think the entire right side of my face might explode at any moment. I manage to open my eyes just a sliver, hoping that I’ll be able to figure out exactly where I am. Even the little bit of light that finds its way in is so bright that it actually hurts. There’s a dull throb at the base of my neck, and everything combined has completely sapped whatever strength I had in me. I know that if I try to push myself any further right now that I’ll wind up being in more pain than I already am.
Instead of focusing on everything that’s wrong right now, I focus on the warm, steady weight on my right hand. All of my energy goes toward that warmth, and moving my fingers to hold onto it tightly. There are calluses beneath my fingertips, and I know without a doubt that I’m holding Caleb’s hand. Or, he’s holding mine. I suppose it doesn’t matter. The thought of him sitting here with me—wherever it is that I am—brings me such comfort that all my panic completely subsides. He’s here, and I’m safe. I know this. I’d like to smile at him, but I can’t get the right muscles to move.