Love Me Whole by Nicky James

Author:Nicky James [James, Nicky]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-01-13T00:00:00+00:00

It was after six-thirty when I arrived at Oryn’s. I’d run home—after topping off my tank—showered, changed, and grabbed us a couple of hot chocolates on my way to his place. He hadn’t texted me back, but I thought nothing of it as I killed the engine and strolled to his front door.

Balancing the tray of drinks in one hand, I knocked. Many minutes passed without a response, so I tried again, only harder and louder.

When there was still no answer, a seed of concern sprang to life in my gut. The last time Oryn had disappeared without warning had resulted in a hospital visit, evaluation, and stitches down his arm.

I snapped my head to the window and noticed the curtain to the den was drawn open. Disregarding the unkempt garden, mucky from melted snow, I moved in front to look inside. The den was vacant and dark. I pressed my face closer and held a hand to block the light so I could see inside with more clarity. It was still. No one seemed to be about, yet there was a light coming from down the hall and another shining from the kitchen.

Leaving the cocoas on the front stoop, I walked around the long stretch of building, counting how many units from the end Oryn’s was—something I’d never needed to note before—and went around back. His kitchen had a door leading out to a ridiculously small excuse for a backyard. He’d explained he never used it, even in the summer.

Double checking I’d passed the right number of units, I let myself through the back gate. The curtain over the kitchen window was always drawn shut, but there was definitely a light on. I went to the pane and tried to find a hole where the two pieces of fabric met so I could peek inside. As I searched, a distinctive shadow moved beyond. I froze. Someone was inside.

In a moment of panic, I stumbled back a few steps. My inquiry and concern hadn’t felt creepy in the least until that second.

But… He was home.

Why hadn’t he answered?

Not thinking, I approached the back door and knocked. Hard. There would be no mistaking my presence.

In less than a heartbeat, the door flew inward. But the man who’d jerked it open and who stared back at me with bloodshot eyes wasn’t Oryn. His left cheek twitched, and his gaze flickered nervously about, scanning the world behind me before returning to my face. His hair was dishevelled and oily like he hadn’t bothered washing it—or brushing it for that matter. I’d never seen it less than perfect. Dark shadows circled his eyes like he hadn’t slept. They made his irises appear darker and menacing. His brows met in the middle and he radiated anger.

A flicking noise drew my attention, and I searched for its source. A lighter. He ran his thumb along the flint wheel, bringing it to flame with each pass. Over and over, releasing it after a beat and letting the flame die before repeating.

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