Erasing Faith(40)

For twenty years, I’d resented it — wishing I could change my circumstances, change myself. But now, as I looked at the lonely man sitting across the table from me, I was thankful for the inner solitude that had always plagued me.

Maybe I was only alone for so long because, all my life, I’d been waiting for him.

Wes and me… we were alone, together.

Two lost souls, found in one another.

Though he might not realize it yet, I’d known it the first time I’d looked into his eyes. But I wouldn’t force it; I’d wait until he was ready. Until he saw it, too.

Worried I’d pushed too far, I tried to turn my words into a joke, though I’d never been so serious in my life. “‘Cause, you know, I’d like to take a peek inside that thick skull of yours.” I forced a laugh. “Just to make sure there’s actually a brain rolling around in there, and all.”

A small smile appeared on Wes’ lips, but he didn’t say anything.

So, I changed the subject. I spent the rest of dinner making him laugh at stories about Margot’s misadventures in love and telling him of my own less-than-stellar track record when it came to navigating the city on my bike — GPS be damned. For two straight hours, we were just a normal couple on a first — second — date, making small talk and discussing topics with little depth.

It was lovely. Safe and simple and lovely.

But deep down, I was biding my time. Waiting for the day that Wes would let me in.





Chapter Twenty: WESTON


EITHER WAY



She fell asleep mid-sentence.

Who does that? No one.

No one except her, apparently.

It was just another line on the long list of things that set Faith Morrissey apart. One minute, she’d been telling me about the time her childhood dog, Otto, chased the mailman up a tree in her front yard, and the next, she was passed out cold. I’d had to make a dive for her wine glass, before it slipped from her hand and splintered against the hardwood floor.

I stared down at her on the couch, a smile twisting my lips. Feet tucked up beneath her, she was curled into the cushions like a nesting baby bird. I couldn’t help but smirk when I saw the inspirational message embroidered across the pillow beneath her head.

Be the change you want to see in the world.

Somehow, I was unsurprised to find that in her apartment.

We’d ridden my bike back here after dinner. With a furious blush staining her cheeks, she’d invited me inside for another glass of wine. I think her intentions were to seduce me.

She’d fallen asleep, instead.

Her hair was mussed against the fabric, half-fallen out of its fastenings. A stray red-brown lock fell across her cheekbone. Her eyelashes fluttered as she dreamed. She was snoring lightly, soft breaths slipping through parted lips with each exhale. She’d probably be completely mortified, if she ever found out I’d witnessed her in this state.

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

I moved silently through the condo, taking in the space with critically trained eyes. It was spacious, for student housing. Two separate bedrooms, a shared bathroom, and a full-sized kitchen. Street level, which made me a bit uneasy. I liked to be up high — better vantage points. Not that street level didn’t also have its merits, if you needed to make a quick exit. Any window could be an escape hatch.

I opened one bedroom door and knew instantly that it was Faith’s.

Her scent hit me first — enveloped me like a cloud. She smelled like spring.

Pure.

When my eyes caught up to my other senses, I saw that one accent wall had been painted a bright, cheery yellow. The duvet was dyed a matching canary color, and the throw pillows were overstuffed with fluffy white down. Frankly, I was surprised there were no teddy bears strewn about the bedspread.

The walls were covered with taped-up charcoal sketches — some complete, others barely started. All were good enough to make me question why she was studying history rather than art. She’d captured Budapest with her pencils. Not only monuments and statues. She’d sketched moments, emotions. The harried faces of vendors. The frantic families, rushing from one shop to the next. The Danube at dusk.

There were clothes scattered everywhere. On the floor, on the bed, on the desk chair. I closed my eyes and pictured her here, waiting for me to arrive. Trying on every outfit in her wardrobe, wanting to pick something perfect. She’d been nervous. I made her nervous.

For all the wrong reasons.

This room screamed innocence, goodness, and light. It screamed Faith.

Those bright yellow walls seemed to dim a bit as soon as I stepped over the threshold, as though my very presence saturated the happy space with darkness. The big bad wolf in little Red’s bedroom.

It only took me about thirty seconds to locate her messenger bag, tucked away by her dresser. Thirty more, and I’d slipped the knife from my boot and sliced off one of the front buttons with a swift stroke of my blade. I used my knife tip to make a small incision in the material by the seam. Pulling the small black case from the pocket of my leather jacket, I slid the bag into the middle of the floor and got to work.

I’d done this so often over the last five years, I could probably do it blindfolded. But this time, I found my fingers hesitating as they sewed a tracker into the lining of Faith’s bag. The minuscule device was deceptively powerful, emitting a geolocating ping every few seconds, which would allow me to follow her movements. My chest felt uncomfortably tight as I sewed the seam closed and replaced the round button I’d cut off with a near-identical black sphere so smooth and simple looking, you’d never know it was a camera. The lens was undetectable, unless you had professional training and knew exactly where to look.