A towel clings to her wet body, and her dark hair cascades down both sides of her beautiful face.
“Hi.” I sit on our new couch in complete and utter awe of her. It’s like no matter how much time passes, I still can’t believe she picked me. After everything we’ve been through, she’s here.
It’s been a rocky road, but we’ve traversed it together.
Claire’s already flushed from the shower cheeks redden even more. She shakes her head. “We’re already late, don’t even think about it.”
I grin and run my hand along my scalp, the hair prickling my fingertips. I haven’t quite gotten used to the fact that my hair is short now. A potentially necessary change given the circumstances. “Come on, what’s another fifteen minutes?”
She ruffles her head with a towel. “That’s what you said earlier. I have to draw the line somewhere.” Claire smiles and continues. “We won’t be gone long. Just enough to watch the ball drop and do thehappy New Yearcrap.”
“You sure it’s a good idea?”
“Rose said it’s low-key. Her and a few friends. Remember Holland and Pax? They’ll be there. We have to practice beingnormalif we’re ever going to properly return to society.”
She’s not wrong. We’ve been here almost two months and we only leave the apartment when it’s necessary. I keep waiting for something to go wrong. A sign that our plan failed, that Franklin found us and he’s going to finish what he started. But weeks have gone by, and nothing has happened. Life really has been relatively mundane. So much so that Claire starts her second semester of college in a few days.
“No social media?” I ask her. It was something we agreed to when forming our escape plan. I can’t risk my face accidentally being in a frame and Franklin finding out I’m still alive.
“Nope. There’s a strict ‘phone in bowl when you walk in the door’ policy.”
Claire’s longtime best friend, Rosie, is mostly on a need-to-know basis for our unusual situation. She was the only person on the East Coast that knew of my existence, and considering her role in Claire’s life, we had to come up with something. To her, I’m Johnny, but to everyone else here, I’m Theo.
Coined from my middle name, compliments of Claire.
It complicates things, but it’s better than the alternative. I couldn’t be Johnny anymore, at least not in the public eye. Not until I knew for sure that we were safe, and Franklin was a person from our past.
Although, I have no idea how or even if that will ever be possible.
He’s a powerful man and will stop at nothing to fulfill his twisted desires.
“Did you get the mail earlier?” Claire snaps me out of my trance.
I plant my hands on my thighs and stand from the couch. “Nope. But I will now.” I glance at my watch. “You better hurry.”
“Thanks, babe.” Claire goes back into the bathroom.
We’ve gotten into the habit of using cheesy pet names because it’s much easier to remember than my own. There have been a few times she’s slipped up and called me Johnny, but it’s managed to go unnoticed by outsiders.
It’s not ideal, to live this hidden life, but it’s what makes sense for now until the dust has settled. I haven’t even fully recovered from the gunshot wound and the surgery that followed; I certainly haven’t had the time to mentally prepare for a war against Franklin if he manages to find out I duped him.
Claire has already sacrificed so much to be with me. I owe it to her to play along and attempt to bring some level of normalcy back to our lives.
I step into the crisp air and instantly regret not grabbing my jacket on the way out. The mailboxes aren’t too far of a walk, but considering I was born and raised out west, I’ve never really known a true winter. I actually hadn’t seen snow in person until a few weeks ago. It’s sort of mesmerizing to witness, each little flake gently sprinkling down from the sky and slowly accumulating into a frigid, white wonderland.
My body shivers and each breath spouts out another small, misty cloud as my boots slosh through the mess of slush in front of the large community mailbox. Between the mail-forwarding service and the winter storm we had last Monday, mail has been running slower than usual. I slide our key into our lock and pull out the stacks of envelopes. I thumb through them, looking for the one Claire is anxious to receive.
Her scholarship information.
The financial aspect of our relocation has been difficult for her to process. Despite reassuring her that I can cover all of our expenses, she’s still adamant about making sure the funds go through. Even after all of our moving costs, I could still pay her tuition ten times over if I needed to. Getting her to understand that, though, is a challenge in itself.
I assume part of it is because she’s fiercely independent. She doesn’t want to have to rely on someone else. Claire prefers to pull her own weight and handle things herself. And honestly, I admire that about her. That she’s ambitious and self-sufficient—fully capable of handling pretty much whatever is thrown her way.
She’s a badass, really.
But we’re in this together, and I would have never made it this far without her. Pitching in and helping monetarily is the very least I could do. I owe her my life.
A slip of paper tucked between our water bill and a piece of spam mail catches my eye. There is no stamp, no return address, just a folded white sheet. I glance over my shoulder, the weight of eyes suddenly on me despite being completely alone.