RYLEIGH
I paced upand down the apartment, not knowing what to think or feel.
A total of eight long hours had passed since Xavier told me to go back to my apartment, and he left with that—I shivered—man.
There had been no phone call, no text, no nothing to tell me not to worry.
I was fucking worried, because I couldn’t imagine what Xavier might have to do withthatkind of man. And it made me wonder what his past could be.
Perhaps he was just related to some of those people, but he had been able to walk a straight line.
Even I could hear the naivety in my own thoughts.
Was he a good man?
I rubbed my hands up and down my arms to ward off the cold as the next thought shifted through my mind.
Could I let him go if he wasn’t?
It should be telling that I didn’t know the answer to that question.
Tears of frustration stung my eyes, and I moved toward the window, looking down at the parking lot.
I came up short when I saw his bike parked on the side.
“What the hell?”
It hadn’t been there when I checked the parking lot an hour ago, but it was there now, which meant he was home.
He was home and didn’t think to let me know so I wouldn’t worry?
That frustration and worry I had been feeling suddenly turned into anger, and I walked out my apartment door and straight to his without a thought.
I knocked on the door—loudly—three times.
There was nothing but silence for a moment, and I felt silly just standing there, blinking away the sudden burn in my eyes.
If this was somehow over, shouldn’t he say that to my face instead of hiding away like a coward?
I knocked on the door once more, letting out a small groan.
Just when I was about to walk back inside my apartment, the lock clicked open, making my heart palpitate along with the sound that seemed to echo loudly in the empty hallway.
Xavier’s door opened, revealing the man.
Anything I wanted to say to him, any words I wanted to hurl his way for making me worry, died instantly from my lips when I got a good look at him.
I gasped when he shifted a bit, and I caught sight of his bandaged arm, a small patch of blood already seeping through.
“What happened?” I asked, walking over to him.
I hesitated, unsure of where I could touch him. Did he have any other injuries that I couldn’t see?
He smiled. “Hey, baby.”
“Where are you hurt?” I asked, my lips trembling a little.
“Just a small scratch on my arm.”