Up in Smoke (Crossing the Line, #2)(9)

Feeling impatient with himself for wanting to follow her into the bedroom even though it was an epically stupid idea, Connor busied himself by checking every window lock and testing the front door from the inside, finding them secure. On his way to double-check the bathroom window, he saw Erin standing in the center of the bedroom, completely still. Facing the small, rectangular window, her shoulders were bunched tight. A coiled spring ready to launch.

“Hey,” Connor said. “You all right?”

Erin spun around. “I’m fine. It’s going to be fine.”

Her eyes were unfocused. He didn’t like it. Which was ludicrous since she’d been like this off and on since he met her. “Everything is secure.”

She smiled, but it looked sad. A little forced. “Not from me.”

“No, not from you.” Go back to your apartment. You don’t know how to comfort anyone. Or why she even needs it in the first place. He cleared his throat, looked away. “I’m right across the hall.”

“I’m aware of that. I’ll probably think about it all the time.”

Her honesty brought his head up. “Why is that?”

She blinked. “Because we kissed. It was all very sexual, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” He shook his head, torn between painful arousal and the need to laugh. Where the hell had this girl come from? “You could say that.”

“I just did.” She plopped down onto the floor, pulling her legs up to her chest. “Go back to your apartment, baby. I’m acclimating.”

Connor stayed put a moment, reluctant to leave her alone when she looked so lost. Shit, he just wanted to keep looking at her, period. But when she closed her eyes and started to hum, he felt like an intruder. With a final glance in her direction, he went home to unpack.



It was the sound that sent her over the edge. Every time.

When she was thirteen, the sound had started getting louder. It hadn’t been her first time being locked in the closet, but it was the longest. Her stepfather had left her a packet of ramen noodles and a bottle of Evian. By then, she’d learned to ration and she’d learned the hard way. This time, though, she heard no noises on the other side of the door. No chairs scraping across the floor or water running. By the time she realized her stepfather wouldn’t be coming back, she’d been too weak to do anything about it.

Maybe it was a side effect of dehydration or simply her brain craving some kind of activity. The sound had started quietly, like moth’s wings beating against a screen door. Over the course of time, the volume of it had swelled until it sounded like a biblical swarm of locusts was trying to break the closet door down. She’d made the mistake of trying to drown it out with screams, but it had only grown louder. More intense.

Needing to move, needing to escape the sound, she’d started to kick at the wooden back panel of the closet. Kicking and kicking until the soles of her feet ached. Just as she was about to give up, her foot had broken through into a crawlspace she hadn’t known existed. As she’d sobbed and slipped her way to freedom, the noise had muted. She’d sworn to herself that no one would ever lock her up again. If they tried, she would get free every goddamn time, no matter what it took.

Night had fallen hours ago, but she still sat in the middle of her new bedroom floor. If she looked closely, she could still see Connor’s outline in the doorway, and she wished she hadn’t told him to leave. Safety. He made her think of safety, and she desperately needed to feel it right now. She didn’t do well in new places. Without any knowledge of the various means of egress, hollow spots in the wall, or who lived around her, she felt limited. If her window led to a viable escape route, she wouldn’t be in this state. But it didn’t. Neither bedroom had one, thanks to them being in the back of the building. She’d looked down into an alley surrounded by cinderblock walls and she’d seen a trap. A death trap.

It had shut her down cold, forcing her to tunnel into herself. But she had to get up and move at some point. Sitting here wouldn’t ease the thrashing of locust wings paralyzing her mind. Only finding a safe place would. Move. Move. Where would she go?

Erin rose unsteadily to her feet, stumbling against the bed frame when she found both of her legs asleep. Several minutes later when she could move without falling, she left the bedroom. She paused at the front door, once again attempting to examine this certainty that being around Connor might dull the harsher edges of the sound, the fear, but she couldn’t hear her thoughts over the roar. Tears burned behind her eyelids, but she told herself to grow a f*cking pair and blinked them back. If she made any noise, she might wake up Polly, and no way could she explain herself. Especially to her new roommate, who so obviously had her shit together.

Only one option.

In a move of desperation, she opened the door and closed it quietly behind her. It only took her a few seconds to let herself into Connor’s apartment. As soon as she crept inside, the noise started to recede. She told herself it was the fire escape attached to the living room window and the view beyond that calmed her. The identical fire escape she’d seen extending from his bedroom window, as well. Not his cool, smooth scent that dotted the air. Like freshly sanded wood rubbed with pine needles. She told herself it was the view, the promise of freedom, but she inhaled through her nose like a resurfaced diver as she padded toward the window. She would just curl up here and be gone before Connor woke up in the morning. Easy peasy. The sound died down a little more.