My apartment was my sanctuary. Almost no one ever came to visit, and when they did, I didn’t encourage them to stay long. When someone else was there, it felt almost like an invasion. It was mine—as long as I paid the rent on time, of course. When I got up in the morning, I didn’t even bother to dress. I could come home from work and take a bath—a newly-found pleasure—and read a book while drinking a glass of wine, and no one knew I was being slothful and self-indulgent.
All of those thoughts ran through my head while I worked my shift that evening, along with worrying about the current turmoil of the vampire war in Westport. But as the night wore on, and the end of my shift neared, I found myself longing for my apartment. And trying to sleep in the over-soft bed in Sam’s place didn’t help matters that night.
But in the middle of that restless night, thinking about Gallagher, and about men in general, I made a decision. I wasn’t sure I had the courage to carry it through, or the intelligence, but one thing Gallagher’s charm had done was unlock some of my feelings.
The following morning, I rose early, grabbed a quick, light breakfast, and ran all the way to the beach near Trevor’s house. I packed a water bottle and a change of clothes, because I had a plan for the day. One that didn’t include Rosie’s. I needed a good workout, and from my map, I figured the run at about 12 miles.
When I finally reached the beach, I walked along the sand for a couple of hundred yards, breathing like a bellows and swearing I would start exercising more regularly. I hated to think how my skill with a sword had probably deteriorated. I wondered if there was a fencing club in town. I would have to learn to fence, of course, since my sword-fighting methods probably wouldn’t be considered very artistic—or very sportsmanlike.
I walked back to Trevor’s house and rang the doorbell. For about the thousandth time, I thought that I should get a phone. His car was in the driveway, but that didn’t mean he was home.
When he answered the door, his face showed surprise.
“Hi. Am I interrupting anything?” I asked, suddenly wondering what I would do if he had a girlfriend I didn’t know about.
He smiled. “Absolutely not,” and pushed open the screen door.
“I’ll trade you a pizza and a pitcher of beer if I can use your shower,” I said.
“Been running? Sure, shower’s in there,” he said, motioning down a hallway. “I’ll get you a towel.”
I realized I should have brought a towel, as well as shampoo. After a twelve-mile run, my hair was a sweaty, stringy mess.
Closing the bathroom door and stripping, I found shampoo and cream rinse in the shower. Considering Trevor’s shoulder-length locks, I should have expected he would have the stuff to take care of his hair. I took a long, hot shower. As I dressed and wrapped my wet hair in the towel, I looked in the mirror and realized I had also forgotten to bring any makeup.
Trevor was in his office, working on the computer. He turned and smiled when I came in the room.
“Hey, are you hungry yet?” I asked. “I’m starving.”
“Let me save this file, and I’m ready,” he said, typing for another minute. Then he pushed away from the desk and stood.
I left the towel in the bathroom, twisting my hair up in a knot on top of my head.
“Not the prettiest or the most sophisticated hairstyle for asking a guy out, is it?” I felt my face warm.
“You look great.”
“And you’re a sweet liar.”
We walked to the pizza restaurant and sat by the window overlooking the cold waves rolling into shore.
“People say that the winters here are brutal,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “Cold, windy, and wet. The only consolation is we don’t get much snow here in town. The ocean keeps the temperatures above freezing most of the time.”
“Here in town. Does that mean there’s snow outside of town?”
He laughed. “We’re surrounded by mountains on the north and east. Lots of snow there. Have you ever skied?”
“Cross-country. Where I come from, what we called mountains aren’t very big.”
“We’ll have to go,” he said.
“You cross-country ski?”
“Since I was a little boy. My parents taught me.”
When I lived with the Illuminati, the only way you could go out of the City in the winter was with skis, snowshoes, or in a vehicle called a Sno-Cat, with treads like a tank. The area got buried in several feet of snow that didn’t melt between November and April. Inside the City, of course, magic kept weather from ever being a problem.
On our way back to Trevor’s house, my courage bolstered by a couple of beers, I said, “I’ve got a question to ask you.”
“Okay?”
“Is that invitation to dinner still open?”
His smile grew larger. “Yes, it is.”
“I have a second question.” I stopped and faced him, taking a deep breath. “Will you kiss me again?”
He put his arms around me and drew me close. Then he lowered his face to mine and kissed me. His lips were so soft and full, and he smelled so good. I closed my eyes and kissed him back.
It seemed as though we stood there on the sidewalk for a long time. When we finally pulled back from each other, I opened my eyes and looked at him looking at me. He was only a couple of inches taller than I was, and we fit together. He felt good. Holding him and having him hold me felt good.
I turned and started walking down the street, but kept one arm around his waist and leaned against him.
“You know I’m a bit gun shy,” I said. The last time he kissed me, I got scared and backed out on a planned date.
“Yeah, I sorta noticed that.”
“I’ve never had a relationship. I don’t know how. And I’ve spent a very long time living alone in my head. So if that’s what you want, you’re going to have to be patient.”
He put his fingers under my chin and lifted my head so that I had to meet his eyes.
“Is that what you want?” He grinned. “I have plenty of time.”
I couldn’t look at his face, but stared at the ground, feeling my ears burn. “I don’t understand relationships. Maybe I’m not any good at it. I mean, I don’t know how to do a relationship, how it works, or what people really mean when they use that word.”
What I was thinking—but it sounded too pathetic to say out loud was—If you just want sex, then I can handle that, and it’s a lot less complicated. Sex I understand. I won’t have to learn anything new. I won’t have to understand any new emotions, or a new way of relating to you. We can just be friends. But at least I’ll have someone to hold me sometimes when the loneliness gets too bad.
I shook my head free and fixed my eyes on his chest. “I don’t know what I want. I like you a lot. I like you differently than I like my other friends. I really enjoy spending time with you. But I don’t understand my feelings, Trevor. The only feelings I understand are anger, fear, and loneliness. And happiness. I know what being happy is. I never felt lonely before, so that’s a new one. I have other feelings, but I don’t know what they are, or what I should do with them.”
“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “let’s start with dinner and hugging and holding hands, and an occasional kiss, and see what happens.”
I had gone to his house fully expecting that either I would have sex with him, or he would reject me. I hadn’t considered that there might be something in between.
He smiled, then leaned forward and kissed the tip of my nose.
We walked back to his house with our arms around each other. I was confused as hell, but somehow happier than I had been in a long time.
He walked me to the train and kissed me good-bye. The way he kissed me made me want to just melt into him. It obviously didn’t have the same effect on him. I had never had that problem before.
Chapter 12
Detective Mackle came in around eight o’clock that evening, and I could tell she was dragging.
“Good evening, Detective. Coffee or a Margarita?”
“How about a double shot of tequila?”
I stuck out my hand. She stared at it, then looked up with a puzzled expression on her face.
“Your keys. If you’re going to get hammered, I’ll call you a cab.”
For a few seconds, I thought she was going to get angry, but then she huffed out her breath, reached into the pocket of her coat, and handed me her keys.
“I’ll need to get my apartment key,” she said.
“I’ll give you your keys when you get in the cab. So, what horrors has Westport dreamed up today?” I asked, setting her drink in front of her.
She took a swallow of the tequila, and I waited while she shook off the effects.
“Dead vamps, dead shifters, dead humans. Bodies all over the damned place. There’s a war going on out there, and we’re short-handed.”
“Blair’s not back at work yet?” I asked.
Mackle shook her head. “Doctors haven’t cleared him yet. But even with him, we need more paranormals on the force. Gods, Erin, they’re slaughtering each other out there. Since Gallagher’s death, things have exploded.” She took another drink. “Frankie’s supposed to meet me here. She said she had some information she wanted to pass by you.”
I reached under the bar and pulled out a menu. “If you’re supposed to meet your boss, you’d better put something in your stomach other than tequila.”
She ordered a vegetarian omelet, and I poured her a glass of orange juice and some coffee.
“Can you tell me a little more?” I asked. “From what you’ve said so far, I’m afraid to let any of my customers step outside.”
“We’re starting to find vamps and shifters without their heads. Then this morning, we found three guys—humans—dead in an alley near Gallagher’s office building. They had been torn apart. We also found two big-ass swords and an axe, and they were carrying a bag of sharp wooden stakes. We assume they bit off more than they could chew, so to speak.”