an inside source.”
I press my hand against the sore spot on my side, not looking down yet. “I don’t trust a fucking thing you say when I know you’re double timing, talking to the FBI.”
“There is no FBI!” He laughs, shaking his head. He steps closer, and I put a hand on the stun-gun clipped to my waistband.
“You need to leave, Aren. Before you wish you had.”
He holds his hands up, laughing like a hyena in need of anger management.
“Hey, Aren? Watch your fucking back.”
“You watch your cunt. I’d hate to see it bleeding.”
I’m trembling with rage as I peel off, making a beeline for her place, where I patch myself up using my car’s first aid kit and watch the building’s front doors until Soren’s friend fixes the cameras in early afternoon.
I don’t know what Aren might do if he thinks the D.A.’s office is closing in on him—as he seems to. And I don’t want to find out.
29
Elise
The hearts are waiting for me every morning when I wake up. Sometimes, he’ll have something from a bakery dropped off at my front door or my office. I know he’s the sender because he sends the hearts at the same time the food comes. I send hearts back. At first it’s only in the morning, but later on, it’s any time I think of him and every time I miss him. Our text history is just rows and rows of dark hearts.
One day—it’s mid-morning on a Saturday in late August—he sends a text that says, Be careful right now. Extra careful.
I peer down at it with wide eyes, my heart pounding in the silence of the living room, where I’m reading on my Kindle. Well…that’s not scary.
I’m gonna take care of you. Just don’t make it tricky. Don’t get out ahead of me or do anything crazy like a midnight run in CP.
Or a spur of the moment trip to the cabin? I smile down at the phone, even as tears fill my eyes. I won’t.
He replies: I’m sorry for this…
Another text comes: I know I shouldn’t say shit like this…
I wait a second, holding my breath as I watch him typing. In another life, you would be mine forever. No more wanting.
Then another text from him: It’s making me tired
Tears gleam in my eyes as I swallow. I’m tired, too, cuore.
He sends rows and rows of dark hearts. Then red roses. I send rows and rows of wilting roses, mostly for dramatic effect.
He switches back to dark hearts. When I wake up the next morning, there’s a new app on my phone; it’s unlabeled—just a red box. I tap on it, and there’s a picture of him lying in his bed. No…it’s not a picture, it’s a video. He mouths, “Goodnight” and gives me a small smile.
I send him a video of me in my bed whispering, “Good morning.”
That’s what I’m doing when Dani walks in, dressed for meditative yoga.
“Wait…what are you doing?” she asks, bouncing over as I cradle the phone to my chest.
“Nothing.”
“You were sexting!” She tries to get a peek at my phone, and I give a ridiculing laugh.
“I’m fully clothed, Einstein.”
She snatches my phone so quickly, I don’t have a chance. Then she plays the video he sent me in the app. I’ve never seen her eyes so wide. Her jaw falls to the floor as a wild laugh burbles from her throat. “Oh my God—I’m telling Ree!”
“You’ll give her another stomach ulcer!”
Dani flops onto my bed and rolls around, stuffing her face in a pillow. “Holy shit!”
I snatch the phone up, my eyes stinging as emotion nearly overwhelms me. She snatches the phone back and scrolls through.
“Oh Elise, he loves you. I knew he did. I knew it! Nothing could change that boy. He was the nicest guy we knew.”
“You don’t even like nice guys.”
“That’s not the point.” She cradles the phone to her chest. Then she tosses it lightly at me. I wince as it hits me in the belly. Then I grab my robe and pull it on in bed.
“You’re here early,” I say.
“I was bored, but you cured that. I don’t even think we’re doing yoga now. I’m turning on the fireplace, and you’re going to tell me everything.”
I don’t—tell her everything. No one but me knows everything. Not even Luca himself. Dani leaves my house almost four hours later. I’m so tired, I take a two-hour nap. When I wake up, I get into the tub, dump bath salts in,