Lust in Translation by Rachel Robinson

Author:Rachel Robinson [Robinson, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CPSMI
Published: 2019-03-21T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

KENDALL

DRUNK, INFORMED, AND SADDER than I’ve been in a long time, I crawl into bed next to Adam. The digital clock on the nightstand reads three. Between my snow-heaving workout and the remnants of Adam’s booze I thought I’d fall asleep quickly, but absolution doesn’t come. Adam’s breaths are steady and low and I try to focus on his inhales and exhales to calm myself. His hand, on autopilot, reaches over and pulls me against his body. I go, tucking my hand under my head and letting his warmth heat me through. This is when I realize the game we’ve been playing is dangerous. Far more destructive than our reasons for staying together. Our habits, good and bad, will only serve to deliver swift pain. They’ll dot every memory we have of each other during this time.

I press my hand over Adam’s and try to match his breaths. I’m almost asleep when a fierce pounding on our front door forces us both out of bed at a jump. “What time is it?” Adam asks, flying to open our bedroom door. “What’s going on?”

My heart is thrashing against my chest. “It’s four,” I rasp, my voice hoarse as my gaze flies around the room trying to make sense of the noise. More angry pounding on the front door. “Where’s my robe?” I rub at my eyes and tug on the hem of my shirt. The cool air stings my bare legs.

Adam grabs his robe from the hook behind the door. My hook, next to his, is empty. He heads to the front door at a brisk clip. “Someone might be in trouble,” Adam calls. “This weather. I bet it’s a traveler stuck.” He presses his face against the door to peer through the peephole and opens the door. Curiosity overtakes my body temperature and I creep toward the front door.

Who else would it be? It’s Leo Callaway, covered in snow from head to foot. Even his eyelashes are frozen together. “I found the cat,” Leo barks, shooting a glance at me, my legs, and then my face. “Kendall,” Leo says, “Go fill the kitchen sink with warm water. Not hot,” he says. “Adam, you have a heating blanket? Start the fireplace.”

“Coal?” I cry out.

Leo pushes into the entrance and I see a duffle bag slung crossways over his body, and he has a head lamp still switched on beaming from his forehead. “Kendall, he isn’t good. The sink. Now,” Leo barks. Adam is already busying himself with the fireplace, taking orders. I still don’t move. I’m too busy understanding what time it is and how long Leo must have been outside looking for my cat.

He shoulders past me and into the kitchen, snow falling onto the hardwood and turning to puddles. He cranks on the faucet and then removes his gloves using his teeth. Then he unzips the duffle bag and pulls Coal out. Unmoving. A lifeless ragdoll, ice clinging to his fur like it’s always been there.

“We need to

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