Cracking open the door, I peer inside, finding Addie sitting up, balancing her journal on her knee as she scribbles in it like she can’t get the words out fast enough. A shot of relief floods my system. Today seems to be a good day for her—as good as it’s capable of being.
She doesn’t acknowledge me, so I lean against the doorframe, content with watching her write. The balcony doors are cracked open, letting in the cool, fresh air. It’s freezing in here, but it doesn’t seem like she notices.
Over the last few days, she’s been writing in that journal more often. I’m not sure where it came from, but it’s her lifeline, and it seems to be helping her. Dr. Maybell recommends journaling and shit all the time with the girls I rescue. Better than bottling up all those emotions and letting them fester and eat away at them slowly.
After a few more minutes, she grabs a tube of lipstick, blindly applies it to her plump lips, then smacks a kiss on the journal. Glancing at me, she snaps the journal shut, sets it on the nightstand, and grabs a tissue to wipe off the crimson stain on her mouth, finally meeting my eyes.
“I see you’re still creepy,” she comments dryly, crumbling the tissue up and tossing it on the table beside her.
I grin and slowly approach her. She visibly tenses, so I sit at the end of the bed and give her space.
I’m all for pushing Addie’s boundaries, but this isn’t one I’m willing to. Despite my less than honorable methods with her in the past, the last thing I want to do is worsen her trauma. She’s been through enough; she doesn’t need another self-serving man taking something from her that she’s not willing to give.
When she’s ready to accept me again, I can’t promise I won’t push her past her comfort zone and work to reawaken a part of her I’m sure she feels is lost.
But that takes time and trust.
And I’m a very patient man.
“Forever and always, baby,” I murmur, shooting her a roguish grin. It feels like my heart explodes when she offers a small smile in return.
That small gesture feels like she just handed me the entire fucking world in her tiny palms.
“Jay got you roses,” I tell her, handing her the bouquet. Her hand curls around the stems, and she sniffs the petals.
“That was sweet of him. I probably should’ve met him… He’s your friend, and he helped save both of our lives. I need to thank him personally,” she says, her brows knitted with guilt.
I had given her a brief rundown of what happened the night of the ritual—how Jay realized the Society set me up and came to warn me. He was stationed in a van a block away in case shit went awry and we needed a quick escape, but by the time he got to me, the bomb had already gone off. But I haven't told her who the Society is yet, and she hasn’t seemed inclined to get into it.
I shrug. “Jay isn’t going anywhere, and he understands that you’re not ready for people yet.”
She snorts dryly. “People-ing sounds exhausting. And speaking of exhausting tasks… I need to shower,” she admits, wrinkling her nose.
“You do stink,” I say, my grin widening when she shoots me a glare.
More often, I’ve been seeing her old self poke through. Sometimes it’s a jab at something I said, other times it’s a little smile, and then there are moments like now—where she looks like she wants to give me the one-two to my eyeballs.
I eat it all up.
“You’re supposed to say I smell like flowers.”
“Baby, there are flowers out there that smell like straight ass. So sure, you smell like those flowers.”
She stares at me for a beat, and then her face cracks, and a full-blown grin stretches her lips.
Fuck.
I’m so in love with her.
“Fine, I guess I can’t really argue with that anyway.” She glances at the door leading to her personal bathroom. “There are no cameras in there, right?”
I arch a brow, enjoying the way her lips part. “I haven’t taken them out.”
She glowers. “Why not?”
I hold her gaze, ensuring she can see how serious I am. “I’m not going to watch you, Addie. But the second you give me a reason to, I will.”
Her brow lowers, picking up on my meaning. “I’m not going to hurt myself.”