Like Gravity(101)

“Sit,” he said, gesturing toward the chair to his left. “You can eat without your hands tied, for now.”

A small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

I sat and watched as he spooned a helping of chicken and potatoes onto both of our plates. It smelled good, but the thought of eating anything turned my stomach – anything I consumed would likely just come right back up again.

“Eat,” he ordered, lifting a forkful of potatoes to his mouth.

I reached for my glass of water.

We both stilled, my hand frozen midway through its reach and his fork poised in the air, when the indisputable sound of a motorcycle engine roared down the street and came to a stop outside the house.

Our gazes locked and I could tell we were both thinking the same thing.

Finn was here.





Chapter Twenty


Choose Me



Skinner was up and around the table in a flash, with one hand covering my mouth and the other holding the knife tight against my throat.

“Shhh,” he breathed in my ear.

We listened as the engine cut off, and the sound of footsteps echoed on the stairs going up to my apartment. We heard him banging on my front door for several minutes, calling out for me. I imagined him standing there, confused and wondering where I was.

Lexi’s car was in the driveway. I wasn’t answering my cellphone.

He’ll know something is wrong. He’ll call the police.

My assurance was quickly overtaken by a flurry of doubts: what if Finn thought I’d changed my mind about meeting him? What if he thought I didn’t want to get back together? What if he gave up and left, without ever going inside the apartment?

Then, I realized that this was Finn – he didn’t take no for an answer. I’d been surprised he’d even conceded to giving me a week’s worth of space; shocked that he’d agreed to wait until eight to come over tonight. When that boy wanted something, he went after it with everything he had.

And he wanted me.

I fought off a smile when I heard the undeniable sound of my apartment door being kicked in. Such a caveman.

Skinner cursed, dragging me up out of my chair and walking me into the living room, with the knife still pressed to my neck. He watched the monitors as Finn entered the apartment, scanning the kitchen for anything out of place. Finn walked over to the bags of groceries I’d abandoned on the counter earlier, a speculative look marring his brow.

Reaching one hand into the bag nearest him, he took out the block of cheese I’d purchased and held it in his hand for a minute. At first, I didn’t understand what he was doing, but I quickly put it together – he was gauging its temperature, trying to see how long it had been left unrefrigerated.

From the anxious look on his face I assumed it was now lukewarm, which told him I’d been gone for quite some time. Placing it back on the countertop, Finn walked through the apartment and checked every room, moving from the kitchen, through the living and dining areas, into Lexi’s room and, finally, into my bedroom.

I could spend hours trying to describe all the emotions that filtered across his face when he walked into my room and saw not only the collage of photos, but also clear signs of the struggle that had taken place. My desk chair was overturned, my bedspread was askew, the pictures littering the floor were disturbed and bent where I’d eventually fallen to the ground.

He looked shocked, horrified, angered, and terrified all at once.

Skinner was talking under his breath, clearly unhappy with this turn of events. Grabbing a roll of duct tape off the shelf, he ripped off a piece and pressed it over my mouth. He pulled my hands in front of me, hastily wrapped duct tape around them, and shoved me down into the straight-backed desk chair facing the screens.

Whirling back around to check the monitors, Skinner watched as Finn took out his cell phone and dialed 911.

“Fuck!” he snarled, leaning close to the screen and staring at Finn as he spoke rapidly into his phone. “I’m gonna f*cking kill that *.”

It wasn’t a threat; it was a promise. His earlier control had evaporated along with his carefully laid plans. With Finn’s arrival, Skinners’ focus had shifted away from me, and I knew he wouldn’t stop until either Finn was dead, or he was.

Skinner spun around to face me, his eyes wild, the knife flashing dangerously in his grip. “Stay here,” he barked. “I’m going to go deal with this.”

This was the man who’d taken everything from me. Who’d killed my mother in cold blood, as I’d watched. Who’d haunted my every nightmare for years. Who’d made me afraid to love, for fear that it could be ripped away from me again.

He’d taken my innocence; He wasn’t about to take the love of my life, too.

As he began to run from the room, I reached up with my bound hands and used the tips of my fingers to rip off the duct tape covering my mouth.

“Stop!” I yelled after him.

He paused in the doorway, listening, but didn’t turn to face me. He wasn’t a stupid man – he must’ve realized that he didn’t have enough time before the police arrived to deal with both of us.

If I wanted Finn to live, I had to make Skinner choose me.

I knew I wouldn’t survive if I went through with this; I understood it with an unshakable clarity. I could see exactly how my death would play out in the next few minutes and, though I didn’t exactly like that picture, it would be worth it if Finn lived.