Comforted by this certainty, but more determined than ever to find him, to get him the help I have to assume he needs, I head to the bathroom. First things first, I set out to inspect the injury I don’t have time for. The wound is nicely stitched, though quite large and throbbing. Thankfully I’m allowed to get it wet, so I force myself to ignore the ugliness of it that is starting to freak me out, and head to the shower.
Once I’m under the water, my mind starts racing. Kace offered to help me hunt for Gio, but a) I don’t want to take his money and b) is that even a safe option? In response to those questions, my mind starts ticking off more questions: am I putting Kace in danger just by being close to him? Despite Kace’s good intentions, could his people at Walker Security potentially be after a big payoff I might represent?
The water runs cold and I am chilled when I grab a towel. I am also without an answer to one of those questions. With some struggles, thanks to my injured hand and laden arm, I dress in black slacks, a red silk blouse, and my new black heels. I’ve decided I need to just have an honest conversation with Kace about me, my family, and the danger we present. In the meantime, the business attire is for a reason. I will not let him pay my way to find my brother—okay I might let him help, but I will pay him back. Time is too critical where Gio’s safety is concerned for me not to allow him to help, no matter how much that kills me.
A few minutes later, I’m in the kitchen with a pot of coffee brewing when I spy the box on the counter with the Jerry’s Bakery logo. I open the lid and find a dozen or more delicious-looking iced cookies. I’m immediately reminded of my promise to text Jenny, but Kace didn’t give me her number. I shoot him a text instead: Can I get Jenny’s number to text her?
While I wait for his reply, I fill a coffee cup, pour in white mocha creamer, and dare to make my breakfast the breakfast of champions: a pink iced sugar cookie. I’ve almost finished it off, promising myself I will not indulge in another when Kace replies to my text with nothing but a phone number. I frown with the cold reply and inhale on a pinch in my chest.
“I will not read into this,” I promise myself. “I will not read into this.” I stare at the message again and repeat, “I will not read into this.”
Almost as if he heard me, my cell phone rings with Kace on the caller ID. Nervous energy thrums through me as I answer and say, “Hey.”
“Hey, baby. Sorry to be slow to reply. I was in the shower. Traffic was hell. It took me forever to get home.”
“Are you going to make your meeting on time?”
“Not even close. I had to call the donor, who is thankfully fighting with his ‘bitch of an ex-wife,’ his description not mine, and was running late as well.”
“Well then,” I say. “That’s something, I guess.”
He laughs that low, rough, wonderful laugh of his that is both masculine and musical, as crazy as that might sound to someone else. “Yes, it is.”
“Is she a bitch?”
“I haven’t met her and thank God for it. I don’t need to be in the middle of that fly trap.” He changes the subject. “Before I forget, I missed a call from Jenny, but she left me a message to check on you. I haven’t had time to call her back, so the minute you text her, expect her to call you instead. You okay with that?”
“Of course,” I say, “Why wouldn’t I be? I loved her when I met her, and I owe her a thank you.”
“Good. Just making sure. I won’t call her back right now then. Can you tell her that I’m headed to my meeting now?”
“Yes, of course,” I say again, the idea that I’m passing messages to his family speaking of just how real this thing with me and Kace has become. “I’ll text her right after we hang up,” I add.
“Perfect.” He hesitates. “And, Aria?”
My heart flutters with the expectation that pause has obviously, but intentionally, created. “Yes, Kace?”
“Save me a cookie.”
I laugh. “I don’t make any promises. There are only a dozen or less now, actually.”
He laughs, too, and we say a short goodbye. I sip my coffee, the warmth of the liquid, and that intimate exchange with Kace, warming me. I’ve never in my life been a real couple with anyone, but that has changed. We’re together, me and Kace. We’re not just together, he’s a light in the suffocating darkness of years on the run.