I glance around the empty room and wonder if I should go find Ian and explain, or just call him in here. The siren call of the bed is strong and without much thought I wheel over to it and transfer myself into its waiting softness. When my head hits the pillow, I know there is no way I’ll be able to stay awake long enough to explain anything to Ian. With a shrug I let sleep pull me under, telling myself I’ll talk to Ian when I wake up.
I wake to my stomach growling, the smell of food drifting in through the half-closed door. Transferring out of my bed, I use the restroom and I’m grateful it’s big enough to maneuver around in my wheelchair. I have crutches, but Ian insisted on the chair until some of the aches that seem to fill my body have worked their way out.
When I make it to the living room, Ian is unloading a plastic bag full of Chinese food. My stomach growls again with appreciation. Ian turns when he hears me and smiles. My heart flips at the sight. Even though it hasn’t been long since his smile disappeared, I still missed seeing it today.
“I thought you might be hungry, and by the sound coming from your stomach I was right.”
I laugh at him and wheel over. I’m grateful he doesn’t seem to be mad, even after hearing what I said to my mom about not wanting the job she offered.
After Ian piles food onto my plate and sits it on a TV tray in front of me, he gets his own and digs in.
“Do you not like Chinese?” he asks when he sees that I haven’t taken a bite yet.
“Oh, no, I love Chinese food and this smells delicious.” Ian quirks an eyebrow and I decide now is as good a time as any. “The job you heard me turn down is in Kentucky, where I’m from.”
“Harbor, you don’t have to explain anything to me. I told you, I’m fine with having you here. The room was just sitting there.”
To my horror, I feel a familiar sting at the back of my eyes, but I refuse to cry. Ian has been nothing but nice to me. And even with the paranoia my parents have instilled in me, I feel like I can trust him. Besides, there is no way he hit me on purpose because he wanted to have a woman in his house.
I blink rapidly until the urge to cry subsides and before I can stop myself, I launch into my story. I tell him everything about why it took me twenty-one years to escape Kentucky, about my parents guilting me into going to school for my teaching degree. Finally, I can’t stop the lone tear when I tell him how scared I was when those men held the knife to my throat and took every possession I owned.
Ian’s face is stone the whole time I tell him about how I ended up eating Chinese food in his fancy apartment. When I’m done verbally unloading everything, he continues to stare at me until I become uncomfortable.
He gets up slowly, and I refuse to give into instinct and wheel away.
He once again surprises me by bending and wrapping his strong arms around me. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You mentioned the mugging at the hospital, but I didn’t realize how bad it was. Harbor, please don’t feel the need to rush to get out of here. Even if you do find a job, please consider this your place as well. You’re safe here.”
The burning behind my eyes starts again and this time I don’t stop myself from sobbing into his shirt. When I manage to get myself together, Ian moves away to sit in front of his food.
“Now, eat. Everything is going to be alright.”
I give him a watery smile and grab the chopsticks, feeling better now that I’ve told him everything. I wonder briefly if he will ever do the same, and tell me what is obviously eating away at him.
Beneath the Lights is available now!
Also By Leslie Johnson
For a complete list of Leslie’s Books visit:
https://lesliejohnsonauthor.com/my-books/
About the Author
Leslie is a California native but recently moved to Arizona after a stint in Arkansas. She enjoys travel and being with her grandchildren.
She is an avid reader of many genres, but prefers romances with travel or thriller themes. She loves writing about strong women and strong men because the world needs both!
Feel free to get in touch!
https://lesliejohnsonauthor.com/
[email protected]
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