Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
He nodded once. “That’ll do.”
I took him over to the side of the dining room that would eventually have a big, built-in bar. Right now, it was just a temporary shelving unit that had a small collection of liquor bottles on it. He reached for the vodka and we went back to the kitchen.
“Here. Hold your arm over the sink,” he said.
I winced as he poured the vodka over my cut, let it sit for a bit, and then quickly rinsed it with water. He reached for a paper towel and pressed it to the cut, holding it there.
I expected it to be quick, too, but instead he stood there, holding my arm in both of his big hands, as if he were nursing a broken bird back to health. His palm was pressed to the cut, and finally it started to feel warm and stopped stinging quite so badly.
“It’s been too long since you last held me,” I said, cracking a smile and attempting to lighten the mood.
But Roman’s lips remained pressed into a thin line. He darted a quick glance up at me, his face stern. “Just here to keep you safe.”
“It’s really okay,” I said softly. “Just a cat scratch.”
“I know,” Roman said. “But it’s safest this way. That’s another thing we’ll have to do. Outfit this house with a proper first-aid kit.”
He gently pulled the paper towel from my cut, letting it air dry.
“I’ll head out to the drugstore and grab some gauze and Band-Aids in a little while,” he said. For now, let it dry.”
“How are you so good at this?” I asked. “You’re like a regular hospital nurse.”
“I have a younger brother,” Roman said. “A brother who was very into football, climbing trees, and generally getting hurt throughout our childhood. Our dad wasn’t in the picture, and Mom was always working, so I got good at taking care of Brody’s injuries.”
“So you really are a natural caretaker,” I said.
“I want the people I care about to be okay.”
The people I care about.
I was so used to people thinking they cared about me—thinking they knew me, when in reality, all they knew was my face and the parts I’d played in movies. Really, what people wanted was a selfie with me and the thrill of telling all their friends they’d met Theo Castille.
As far as people who actually cared about me, I could count them on one hand.
I let out a little sigh. “Well, you’re learning the first rule of Theo Castille already. I’m kind of a mess.”
“Not your fault an animal leaped out at you,” Roman said, running his palm along my arm.
“My fault I thought there was some sort of intruder outside and it turned out to just be a cute scared cat, though.”
Roman shook his head. “You’re smart to be cautious, after what you’ve been through.”
“I haven’t really been through anything,” I said. “Some guy leaves me weird little gifts and follows me around. It’s not like I’ve been hurt.”
Roman turned to me, his brow furrowed. “You’ve been through a lot,” he said. “You don’t feel safe. In your hometown, or when you travel. It’s very serious, Theo.”
I swallowed, stunned by his reaction.
Goddamn, it felt reassuring to hear that from him.
Over the last year, I’d gotten used to all of the different reactions in the press and social media about my stalker situation. A lot of people were sympathetic, sure, but just as many had said that I was making a big deal about nothing. That my stalker was just some weirdo. That I was silly to run off to Paris, and now to Kansas.
I was always ready for people to write it off. To not take me seriously.
But Roman had only met me twice, and already he was taking it more seriously than most people ever had.
I nodded once.
“What’s your typical plan of action when a situation arises?” he asked gently.
“Well, usually I run up to grab my grandpa’s old baseball bat.”
“Okay,” Roman said. “And what is your plan with the bat?”
I bit my lower lip. “Um, hold it in my hand and hope and pray that I look menacing?”
Roman finally cracked a smile, snorting at my stupid joke. It was like a sudden burst of sunshine through clouds, and I couldn’t help but feel like I’d won some prize getting the stoic man to finally laugh.
“Needless to say, that’s not a great action plan,” Roman said. “Non-lethal tasers and stun guns are legal here in Kansas. I think we might want to outfit you with one, as well as mace.”
“I mean, if anything real actually happens, my instinct is going to be to yell at my computer system to call you, to be honest.”
“And that’s the right thing to do,” he said. “But any time we’re apart, I won’t be able to instantly appear. You have to be prepared.”