to cry as I took the notebook back and wrote two more lines.
“Not good. I was kidnapped.”
8
Holden
When was I going to learn to control my temper?
I’d always had one. Even as a kid, my mom had to remind me not to bite people’s heads off just because I felt scared. Like a cornered animal, I had a tendency to snarl at people, rather than show I was frightened.
How many times had I snapped at Gus just because he’d gotten a little too close to the truth?
It wasn’t his fault. He had no idea what he was doing, what wounds I was trying to protect. But when he’d found me in my studio tonight—a studio where I had left the door open—all I could think was what he might have seen. What he might have heard.
Sure, the book I’d been recording had nothing to do with Infinity Falls. And it wasn’t like I had old promotional posters on the walls. To be honest, I’d done my best to forget the show ever existed.
But even just realizing I was recording an audiobook could have been enough to set his wheels turning. It wasn’t that big a jump from voice acting to regular acting to seeing that awful light of recognition in his eyes, and the inevitable questions that would follow.
So I’d shut him down, as quickly and firmly as I knew how, and as soon as he’d gone, I wished I hadn’t.
Jesus, I wanted to suck his dick, not be one. But I couldn’t seem to help myself.
The weirdest thing was, I found myself actually wanting to let Gus get close. And not just physically—though, obviously, I wouldn’t have minded that either. But in the few times we’d talked over the past two days, I’d realized how nice it was to have someone around who didn’t know who I was. Who didn’t expect anything of me because of my past.
It was nice to interact with someone without the burden of my history. Or my guilt.
That alone should have been a sign that I was heading down a dangerous path. Because Gus wasn’t staying. And once he started remembering his own life, there was every chance he’d realize who I was too. And then everything would change.
I didn’t deserve to escape from the guilt I carried around every day. But dammit, Gus made me want to anyway.
With a sigh, I pushed back from my desk and turned my computer off for the evening. The thought of Gus wandering around the house by himself, convinced I was mad at him, made me feel shittier than I was used to.
It was time to apologize.
But Gus wasn’t in the kitchen when I went to find him, or anywhere else that I checked, until it occurred to me that he might have gone to bed already. It was a little early, but he was still recovering. Hell, I was exhausted myself.
And sure enough, when I peered into his bedroom, there he was, curled up on his side, babying his left arm, asleep in bed.
Frog was with him, nestled into the small of Gus’s back. The cat must have sensed the jealousy that flashed through me, because I swear he smirked at me, his amber eyes glowing with a distinctly feline brand of smugness.
Gus looked so peaceful, his thick, dark brows relaxed in sleep, long lashes illumined by the moonlight washing in through the window. His lips parted gently, like he was on the verge of speech, and for the millionth time, I wondered what it would be like to kiss him, to slide my tongue across his, to enter his mouth and let him claim mine.
I knew I should go. Eat dinner, or do more work, or just go to sleep myself. I could even find Daisy and bug her for a while if I really couldn’t figure out what else to do with my time. But instead, I stepped out into the hallway and lowered myself to the floor. If I leaned back against the wall and positioned my head just right, I could still see Gus’s face through the crack in the door.
Creepy, I knew. But less creepy than watching him sleep from inside the room, right? I had to get some credit for not going for the worst option. Besides, it was my house. I had every right to sit in it wherever I wanted.
Though, if I were being honest, it had never quite felt like mine. Or like a home, exactly. I wasn’t