Captive
"It"
“What did Sidney do to deserve being left in the pouring rain like that?” I replayed Patricia’s question as Peter drove me back home.
My guard kept glancing at the rearview mirror while having a cryptic conversation through his earpiece. Despite his ever so present passive expression and monotonous voice, I could tell something was wrong. But I was in no mood to ask.
The second we parked in the driveway, he was out of the car, right before another car stopped behind. I could hear its tires screeching. My heart leaped in my chest. I clutched the leather seats and tried controlling my breathing. I wanted to scream for Peter but I couldn’t find my voice. My neck stiffened. I couldn’t even make myself look behind.
Suddenly, my door opened. I let out a scream and retreated.
“Mr. Crosby! What you just did was too dangerous, Sir! Paul is on his way.” Peter’s voice came loud but not louder than Crosby’s presence in front of me.
“I need to speak with Captain Shaw,” Crosby answered, his hard eyes fixated on me.
I stared back at him and his wet, dripping hair, adrenaline still pumping from the scare I just had.
“If that’s what Captain Shaw wants,” Peter said, peeking at me from behind Crosby.
Peter thought that Captain Shaw knew what she wanted. But if I haven’t nodded in that instant, I was sure the hockey player would have charged at the security guard.
Crosby’s coat dripped on my jeans as he wordlessly stretched his hand to me. I was still leaning on my elbows, halfway on my back, in an almost submissive position. Refusing to touch him, I straightened up and opened the other door.
Peter unlocked the garage and I headed inside with Crosby hot on my heels.
“Take it back!” he yelled the second we were alone. “You don’t mean it. You can’t really mean it!”
I braced myself before facing him and his wrath. He was drenched, but instead of turning blue from the cold, he was red with anger.
“Mean what?” I asked.
“When you said that Ryan deserves you more than I do!”
“That’s not what I said…”
“Bullshit!” he yelled. “You even wished I was dead,” he said with a lower voice this time.
My heart clenched at these words. “I didn’t mean it. I was just upset…”
I fiddled with my sleeve, trying to pull my hand inside. I watched him from the corner of my eye shaking his head. He glanced around the dim garage to avoid looking at me.
“So you two are talking about me?” he asked just above a whisper.
“Ryan thought that there was something between us, you and me. I had to correct him.”
“And what did you tell him?” he asked, looking me straight in the eye.
I glanced at him briefly before busying myself with my wrinkled sleeve again.
“The truth.”
“Which is…”
“That you don’t think about me in that way.”
“And how do I think about you? Enlighten me,” he said with an edge to his voice.
He was torturing me in the worst of ways. Did he want me to admit my feelings for him? Did he want me to say it out loud? And what for? So he could leave me high and dry like last time?
“You should leave,” I whispered.
He groaned so very loudly. He took off his drenched coat and swung it hard until it collided with the floor, making me flinch. With his hands at his waist, his chest moved fast and his eyes pinned me in my spot. But all I could zoom in on was the pools of white and brown oozing out of his discarded coat.
His gaze followed mine and he sighed, pulling his head back and closing his eyes for a few seconds.
“I’ll clean up the mess,” he mumbled.
“What is that?”
“Ice cream.”
I almost chuckled as I kneeled to inspect the crime scene. Peeling off the coat, I saw the Drumstick victims bleeding vanilla and caramel.
My heart skipped a beat – perhaps more. When I looked up at him, his eyes were soft as he studied my reaction.
“You, um, got me these?”
“I was hoping to find that secret way to your heart,” he said with a shaky voice.
My vision blurred and I found myself walking towards him. In an instant, I forgot all about my heartache. My mind was filled with fond memories of us.
“What does that mean?” I looked him in the eye. Maybe I was the one needing to hear it out loud – the “it” that was still to be determined.
He swallowed. His hands went to my cheeks, “that I would do anything to keep you in my life.”
“And buying me ice cream is going to solve all of our issues?” I asked softly, unable to move an inch away from his touch.
He sighed and looked down, “no, it won’t. But I wanted to remind you of what we had. I want that back, Mia. Don’t you?”
“No,” I said and he raised his eyebrows. “I’d rather be here, not in a prison cell,” I added quickly. And then he smiled at me, a heart-melting, world-destroying smile that had every potential of solving all of our issues.
Then, I saw “it” in his eyes. I felt “it” in his touch. I heard “it” in his shaky breath. I tasted “it” on his lips.
I’m obsessed. It’s so ducking good. Please tell me there is more to come! I literally beg of you.
2/5/21