Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 356(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
This may not have been part of my job description, and I typically hated having to get on my hands and knees to clean behind a toilet, but I had to admit it felt good knowing I’d helped him out a bit. There was something about Tristan that made me want to see him smile twenty-four seven. I’d realized it pretty quickly after meeting him. It was the way an entire room seemed to light up when he flashed those pearly whites. That smile should never be tamped down.
I finished getting dressed, putting on a black tank top and gray basketball shorts. My hair was no longer wet, allowing me to mess it up a bit.
Outside, I could hear Tristan watching TV in the living room. He greeted me from the couch, lying down with his feet on a pillow and his focus turning back to his phone.
“I thought you drowned in there for a second,” he said, his eyes floating back to me and lingering for a moment.
“I’d make a pretty shitty bodyguard if I drowned in your shower. Just staring up at the shower-head with my mouth open.”
Tristan chuckled. “Turkeys do that, you know. They’ll look up at the rain with their beaks open and end up swallowing too much.”
“Good thing I’m not a dumb bird, then.” I went over to the love seat and plopped down. “I was just cleaning up in there.”
Tristan shot up on the couch, nearly dropping his phone. “What? Seriously?”
I nodded and looked at the television, trying to keep my smile down. He looked so surprised. I kind of liked throwing him off like that.
“Oh, that’s so embarrassing,” he said, standing up and walking down the hall to the bathroom. He came back, looking shocked, his hands in the pocket of his khaki shorts. A silver bracelet glittered on his wrist, matching the silver necklace that peeked out from the collar of his shirt.
“Gabriel, you really didn’t have to do that.” He shook his head. Were those tears in his eyes? Before I could take a closer look, he turned away.
“It’s fine. I don’t mind cleaning up sometimes.”
“I just… thank you.” He wiped at something on his cheek and disappeared into the kitchen. I decided to give him some space, not realizing how emotional cleaning his bathroom would make him. I knew Tristan was a writer, which likely meant he was a highly sensitive soul, but this reaction surprised me.
Huh…
I tried not to focus on it. Tried not to think about what other surprises Tristan had for me. I instead unlocked my phone and went to the folder that held my case files. There wasn’t such a thing as downtime for me. This job was a twenty-four-seven kind of commitment, and I was determined to see it through.
3
TRISTAN HALL
I nearly broke down. Seeing my bathroom sink shining and the mirror sans any toothpaste spots meant more to me than if someone showed up at my door and randomly said I won the lotto. It wasn’t only an unexpected gesture, but it was also the sweetest damn thing anyone had ever done for me. And it was done by a man who used words with the same frequency as a boulder. A man built like one, too. One who was sent here to protect me, not to look after me… but he did. He took his time to make the bathroom look brand-new after I’d been neglecting it these past few weeks.
Thankfully, I held it together until I was able to escape into the kitchen, where I leaned on the counter and stuffed a knuckle in my mouth to stop my crying from being audible.
What was going on with me? I tried to swallow down the bubbling emotion, but that only made it push up my throat with even more force. I shut my eyes and tried to calm myself down, realizing that it wasn’t just the clean bathroom that I was crying about now.
I was crying for the life I used to live. Before I’d become the target of a serial killer. Before my books started to nosedive on the charts. Back when I used to be happy. Used to be able to go out and meet a guy, have a good time, make a solid connection and some great memories. When I was able to hang out with my friends, reading our silly little books and drinking our silly little wine, having just a silly little time.
All of that was gone. The Midnight Chemist may not have gotten to me (yet), but they’d effectively killed off any hope I had of being happy. At least for now. It just didn’t seem like something I was even capable of anymore, which was why the bathroom made me even more emotional. Gabriel gave me a gift he didn’t even know I needed: he made me feel happy again. It was the tiniest spark of light in the all-consuming darkness that surrounded me, but damn it, I felt it. And I didn’t want to let it go.