I shook my head and decided I wasn’t going to feel any shame about how little I’d seen and done. “No. We’ve always lived in small towns in the middle of nowhere.”
“Why?”
“It’s easier to rent a house in places people don’t want to live. Cheaper too. There are always job openings.”
“I thought you were a translator.”
He’d been paying attention. “But only for a few years, since I graduated.”
“They have colleges in small towns?”
I tried to groan but coughed. “No. You can get a perfectly good college degree online. I did.” My grandfather had told me it would be safe to do it under my legal name, and it had. We had been so lucky that the cartel hadn’t figured out we had changed our last names until now.
His voice was low. “First job?”
Was he really asking me questions about myself? “Not even close. I started working when I was fifteen to help my grandparents out. Their savings and social security benefits really weren’t that much.”
I saw him glance at me.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter where you live. I was just wondering.” I pursed my lips and focused on the bright stars over our heads. So free. So beautiful.
If I could have felt envy toward a star, I would have.
“Hey,” I said, “I wanted to tell you thank you for everything. Whatever happens from now on, even if I die tomorrow from some freak accident, or if I get that sick again, thank you for this. I used to dream about doing something fun, whatever the hell that really means. It’s been a fucked-up one, but it’s still been an adventure. I got mystery, drama, angst, explosions, kidnapping, and a grand escape… Anyway, I just wanted to tell you thanks.” I’d almost had a panic attack taking a shower, but every great adventure left some scars. I had a bunch of scratches that I was pretty sure were going to leave their mark too.
So there was that.
I’d raced for my life with The Defender. We’d agreed to be friends. Who else could say that?
“You’re not going to die,” he snapped.
“You don’t know that. I could get bit by a black mamba while I sleep. That would be my luck.” Which reminded me that I should check under the covers to make sure there wasn’t some hidden scorpion in them.
“There’s no black mambas here, and nothing is going to happen to you,” he said, and I could tell without looking at him that he was rolling his eyes.
It was almost enough to make me smile. He really wasn’t heartless, was he? “I hope you’re right.” But I still wasn’t holding my breath.
“Of course I’m right.”
“So you think.” I sighed. I wasn’t sure how much worse things could get. We were already starting off in the shitter. Hopefully it would be the good kind that composted and made things better though.
He turned toward me. “How many times have I told you nothing is going to happen?”
“A lot?” I rubbed my throat with a wince as I glanced at him.
His look was dirty.
I couldn’t help it. “Are you sure we’re safe here? That we’ve gotten far enough away?”
I got another dirty look.
It almost made me smile, and even though I felt like garbage, the urge to mess with him rode me hard. “Why are you in such a good mood now anyway? Because we’re somewhere?”
“What makes you think I’m in a good mood?”
“Because you’re talking to me.”
He grunted. “Why are you asking me that like it’s a bad thing then?”
“It’s not, but it’s just weird.”
His next grunt was even deeper.
All right then. I smiled weakly as I rolled onto my hip and got to my feet slowly. “Do you need me to stay up? Because I’m falling asleep… We weren’t leaving, right?”
Alexander’s eyes glowed. “No. Go inside and rest. You still look like shit.”
I tried not to laugh because I knew it was going to hurt, but it happened anyway, just a little one. “And here I thought I didn’t look as bad as I thought I would. Thank you. Don’t let the Candyman come in through the door to get me, okay?”
He sighed. “Go to sleep. Nothing is going to happen unless you keep annoying me.”
I was stumbling toward the door when I rolled my eyes. He might be a protector of mankind, and he might have a heart under that prickly exterior, but he was a pain in the ass too.
“Wake me up in a few hours, and I’ll keep watch so you can get some sleep too, all right?” I told him.
I was pretty sure I heard him huff, but I was too tired to care.
My hand was on the doorknob when he called out, “Gracie.”
I glanced over my shoulder.
His eyes were closed again, and his voice was just as steady as the rest of him. “You went through something traumatizing, but you’re going to be fine, you hear me?”
That was the last thought in my head as I laid down that night.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Rolling over the next morning, I groaned as I draped my arm over my eyes. I was going to need a readjustment, a massage, and whatever shot athletes got when they were in pain. I might need a hip replacement too.
“Do you always snore, or is there something wrong with your sinuses?” a familiar voice called out.
I hadn’t even realized my mouth had been cracked, but at his words, I pressed my lips together and dragged my hand off my face. It only took a second for me to lift my head and find the body on the couch across from the bed. Alexander was sitting up, elbow on the armrest, a hand on the side of his head, looking like a fully clothed Rose from Titanic, minus the come-hither expression.
His was smooth and even, but the sarcasm in his tone said everything.
Somebody was back.
From the sound of it, I must have not been the only one who had been feeling rough around the edges, if he’d contained the crabbiness until now. Was it the meal? Was it actually getting sleep?
I was almost impressed.
And I guess it was nice that some things were back to normal. Normal for us. Even though I hadn’t exactly been in a talkative mood the last few days, it had been weird to say so little to each other considering we were joined at the fucking hip.
But we’d had bigger things to worry about. Like getting away, trying not to be hungry, staying warmish.
Which reminded me, had I felt the mattress shift while I’d been asleep? I’d swear I had. But maybe I had imagined it. I had passed out almost instantly the second my head had hit the pillow last night.
I didn’t even bother scowling; I was glad he was feeling better and wasn’t hangry. “Water getting poured down my mouth and nose fucked up my sinuses, thank you for reminding me,” I muttered before noticing how much less my throat hurt. It wasn’t back to normal, but it was better. “Was I really snoring though? You didn’t complain the other nights.”
He didn’t reply.
The fucking liar.
Scrubbing my hand across my face, I rolled to a sitting position, my stomach growling. “Did you sleep?” I asked him as I eyed the tiny couch with a yawn.
“No,” he actually answered.
So was it just the food that made him feel better? That made sense, I guess.