6. Reed

Chapter six

Reed

Petra sits alone in front of the coffee bar and bakery section, sipping a warm drink with a book spread out in front of her. She doesn’t look up as I walk over to the chair across from hers. “Is this seat taken?”

Petra bolts upright in surprise and pulls out an earbud, already blushing. “You’re—hi. Sorry, what?”

Her reaction ups my original guess. I’m ninety-five percent sure she’s a subscriber, though it’s no excuse for what I’ve done. “Can I join you?”

A short, bright laugh escapes her—like a car horn—and she claps a hand over her face. It’s unusual, endearing, and makes me smile. “Yeah.” She shakes her head at herself. “Go ahead.”

I drop into the chair, at a total loss for how to move forward. “What’re you listening to?”

“ASMR,” she says, pulling out the other earbud. “It’s a coping mech—uh, I listen to it a lot.”

“Ah.” I take the plunge. “Mine?”

“What?” she asks too loudly. Her eyes widen, and a new flush creeps up her chest and neck. She breaks into silent giggles and buries her face in her hand. “Oh God, it is you. I didn’t consider it until later when I—oh no. If you needed confirmation, I gave the game away.”

When you what? I want to ask. It would be easier to slip on my Daddy Knight mask than to deal with the mess of a human I’ve become. Especially when she makes me forget how much I despise what DKP has become. When you got in the car? When you woke up in the middle of the night? When you listened to my audio? If she reacts this way without anything sexual behind it, I’d love to push her and see what happens.

“I didn’t need confirmation.” Petra’s cheeks darken all over again, and a smile tugs at my mouth despite the guilt I’m shouldering. There’s no trace in her face of the vulnerable, aching words from her diary.

“That’s even worse. I can’t believe you knew. You can’t tell anyone. I won’t live it down,” she says, but she’s still laughing. She’s so goddamn sweet. Could the notebook belong to someone else?

I fidget in my seat, rethinking my plan. I don’t want to tell her about the notebook. If it is hers, I don’t want her to feel violated, the way I do. She already thinks of me as Daddy Knight, which makes the mask the easy answer. Maybe if she gets angry with DK, it won’t hurt as much.

Maybe he can take on all my worst traits, and leave Reed good, whole, and untainted.

I want to be rid of my parasite.

“Your secret is safe with me,” I reassure her. Multiple secrets. I’ll carry her words to my grave, because I shouldn’t have seen them in the first place. I stall by reaching for the book she’s reading, and slide it across the table to read the title. “Fantasy? Interesting. I’d pinned you for smutty romance.”

“How one-dimensional of you,” she scolds, crossing her arms. “My vagina doesn’t dictate every facet of my life.”

An elderly woman pushing a cart toward the exit pauses behind Petra, and I can’t hide my amusement. “Want to say that a little louder?”

Petra whips around, her dark hair swishing, and swivels back with wide eyes. Some listeners get shy and avoid eye contact, some thank me for boosting their confidence, and others want to see if the sex is as good as the audio. But Petra is something else—affected but laughing about it. Bold, wry, self-conscious. I should feel bad for the ocean of embarrassment she’s wading through, but I don’t .

She makes me smile. When was the last time that happened?

“Oh my God. I’m a walking disaster around you,” she groans. Unfortunately, that makes two of us. “People are going to assume I slept with some guy who was in town for a day—”

I flip to the end of her book, avoiding her eyes. The premise is great, but I want to know the ending before I jump in. “Two days now, technically.”

She leans in to whisper, “And Mrs. Fitzgerald will lecture me about it, as though I’m not a grown-ass woman who can sleep with some hot guy when I want. And then she’ll pray for me!”

Some hot guy? She’s attracted to me—not DK, or my voice.

Surprise skitters through me, leaving heat in its wake. The attraction goes both ways. Even before I invaded her privacy, I noticed how gorgeous she is. She’s on the taller side for a woman, and all dark, warm colors and lush curves.

With this piece of the puzzle, Petra shifts from passing interest to outright fascination. I forget all about the notebook. My past ceases to exist, my nerves disappear, and the prickling across my skin quiets. She moves all of it out of focus. I’m mesmerized by her pretty, woodland eyes, full mouth, and the small flecks of brown skin across her collarbone. How far do they travel below the cotton of her shirt?

“The more prayers the merrier, right?” I ask, leaning in until her face is inches away. Her breath hitches, and the vulnerability in her calls to me. A foolish, chaotic part of me wants to close the space between us. To see how she’d react to a single kiss. To pick her apart and discover how all her pieces fit together.

She drops her head into her hands. “It’s not funny.”

My fingers slip under her chin to lift her face. I don’t want her to die of embarrassment. “I’m sorry. Maybe we should talk somewhere else.”

“What?” Her voice is barely a squeak. “I don’t know what you’re expecting, but I don’t know you.”

“What if I want to know you?” I graze her chin with my thumb, and it steadies me. No more tapping or bouncing. She swallows, her eyes so wide that I can see the bits of green and gold clearly among the soft brown.

I have rules: Only trust my family. Don’t let anyone in. Don’t tell anyone who I am. Don’t tell anyone where I am. Don’t stay in one place too long. No social media, and no sleepovers.

Getting to know her breaks three of those.

I’m doubly surprised when she doesn’t push me away, and I force myself to drop my hand. “What is it?” she asks quietly, her eyes raking over my face like I’m an open book.

The truth sits on the tip of my tongue. I stole your notebook because I let my worst fears get the better of me. Because I wanted to see how you tick. Because I needed to know if you were a threat. I read things I shouldn’t have, and then nearly trashed it because I was ashamed.

I pull the small pad from my coat pocket and slide it across the table to her.

And I lie.

“I think this is yours. It was in my grocery bag, so you seemed the most likely candidate.”

“Oh.” Her gaze pierces me, but she doesn’t make a move to take it. “Did you read it?”

I swiped it with the explicit intention to. I shift under her attention and search for something remotely true. “A little. I realized it was personal, and I stopped.”

She flips to the last page, reminding herself what she wrote. Her whole body changes, and I watch her fade into a husk. Her written words overwhelm her, and the light goes out of her eyes. Damn it. So much for hoping it wasn’t hers. “Thank you for returning it to me.”

Thank you? My stomach sinks like I’ve swallowed a box of rocks. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have read it. I’m sorry for that, and for the pain you’re going through.”

Her fingers trail over that paragraph. The one that eats at me. “It’s funny,” she murmurs. “I’ve been screaming for so long that I lost my voice. Like pulling a fire alarm too frequently. The whole building is ablaze, but it’s old news. The only person who cares is the occupant.”

That’s the opposite of funny, and the rocks in my stomach multiply. “I care, Petra.”

The corner of her mouth lifts into an unfeeling smile. I recognize it from the last time I was here. It’s her customer service face. The vibrant girl who laughed with me is nowhere to be found. “You have no reason to. Thank you again. Have a nice day.”

“Petra.” I can’t stand it. Reading her words was nothing compared to watching this. I need her to do more than exist. I reach for her hand, but she moves out of reach. “I stole it. Took it right off your check stand.”

“Okay,” she says, as if I didn’t commit an atrocious invasion of privacy. She’s…vacant.

“I knew you recognized me and I… I suppose I wanted to even the playing field.” It’s the ugliest truth, and I’m hoping it will shock her into motion. But she merely shrugs and tucks one earbud into her ear. A coping mechanism. “Where is your support system? Your family? Are you married?”

She frowns at me, her eyes terribly blank. I glance at her ring finger, but it’s bare. “Why does it matter…Knight?” Her whole face scrunches. “I’m assuming that’s not your real name.”

“Reed,” I supply, breaking rule number three. She cocks her head, still waiting for an answer. She smells of oranges, cookies, and a scent from my childhood that I can’t figure out. It tugs at something inside me, and my words come out softer than I intended. “I can’t walk away knowing you have no one in your corner.”

She sits back with a huff, and some color comes back to her face. “I have to start my shift.” She scoops up her book and purse and flees to the employee break room.

“Damn it.” I sigh, rubbing at the headache creeping into my temple. I feel worse than before. She thanked me for stealing and prying into her personal life. She went full on robot on me. The pink in her cheeks washed out until she was whiter than her notebook pages. Is this how she normally is? How does no one notice she’s barely alive?

Kind of like how no one notices I’m barely alive.

I search for a way to salvage the situation, though I’m not sure what there is to salvage. I’m not trying to make friends. Rule number one. But I want to be better than the man who stole her notebook. Therapy is the best move here, and I pull out my phone to schedule an appointment.

Her coworker from the other day steps up and orders a coffee for himself. When he glances over at me, he smiles. “Hey, visitor. You’re still here! How was Bella Vita ?”

“I haven’t gone yet.” It’s reckless, and will assuredly blow up in my face, but I walk over to shake his hand. “I’m Reed. I wasn’t intending to stay, but…” I search the registers for any sign of Petra. I have no idea how to explain this.

“Ray.” Ray frowns as he watches Petra emerge and head to a check stand. “Always a woman that derails our plans, isn’t it? I don’t want you getting ahead of yourself. Petra moved home a few months ago—real rough go of it down in California. We’re all protective of her.”

“California?” The coincidence snags my attention.

“Los Angeles. But that’s her story to tell. Should’ve guessed something would come from your conversation the other day. I haven’t seen her laugh that hard in years.”

Years? I force the question down. Is what I saw the other day some miracle? Did my theft ruin it and send her back into darkness? “I was hoping to see her again.”

“She’s off at six,” he offers. He’s trying to be helpful, but if I was stalking Petra, he made it easy to abduct her. I swallow the lecture sitting on the tip of my tongue.

“Thanks.”

“Treat her right, or we’ll all come after you with pitchforks.”

I’ve already mistreated her, and I’ve known her for all of ten minutes. It’s the world’s worst record. I wish I could promise him something, anything, but I have no clue what I’m doing. I should drive back to Portland, or further on to Seattle. I manage a nod to Ray before I head to the car.

There’s a hotel on the road to the freeway, and my heart stops and stutters at the sight of it. I pull into the empty hotel lot, chewing on my choices. Leaving town with Petra withdrawn and empty leaves a sour taste in my mouth. “What am I doing?” I sigh, tapping my thumbs against the steering wheel. “Just let her be, Reed.”

The rain beats down, and each drop against the windshield is a tick of the clock. My anxiety ticks with it. That’s all it does anymore—tick away as life passes too quickly. I’m constantly in fight-or-flight mode.

I can’t do this anymore. I have to stop running. I have to stop pretending that I’m okay. I have to put effort into making my life better than it is.

I pull myself together and jog through the rain to the front door.

“Welcome! Checking in?” the receptionist asks with a smile.

“I don’t have a reservation.”

“That’s okay.” She winks at me before her blue eyes do a leisurely once over. She might want a hookup, or could just be appreciating the scenery. Either way, there’s a slimy element to it. “For one night?”

“Yes. I’m passing through.” I pass over my license and credit card, emotionally exhausted. I need a nap and a plan. “If you have one with a kitchenette that would be great. I’m tired of fast food.”

“Sure thing, Reed Alexander,” she reads as she types my name into the system. “I’ll set you up in a corner suite as a complimentary upgrade. My name is Tina, if you need anything during your stay.”

“Thank you.” From all the signs around town, tourism in this area is bustling during both summer and snowy weather, but the sleet coming down outside isn’t inviting for outdoor activities. No wonder the parking lot was bare. Tina helpfully points out nearby restaurants, sightseeing places, and things to do nearby before she hands me my room key .

“Any good Italian food around?” I ask, aiming for nonchalance. If Swift River is anything like Coralville, gossip travels on a breeze. If the receptionist is anything like Ray, she’ll offer up Petra’s social security number before dinner. It’s disturbing what people will give away.

“ Bella Vita is the best! It’s only four signals, left on Mulberry, right on Seventh. Mrs. Diamante’s stuffed shells are amazing.”

Petra Diamante. Petra’s name is different, quirky, and oddly charming—like her short, bright laugh. Before she shut down, anyway. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Tina.”

I haul my bags and recording equipment up to the room. My stomach churns over my decision to stay the night. I’m fighting months of instinct that is telling me to run, and for what? I dump everything on the table and sink down onto the striped, cream sofa—dying to call Holly, refusing to call Amanda. Holly wouldn’t answer and Amanda would think I’m insane.

“Why are you putting yourself through this?” Amanda would tell me. “You made a mistake and you owned up to it. Case closed. Come home, where I can be here for you.”

I press my hand to the black ink on my forearm, covering a wound that may never heal. My only visible scar from a night that ruined my life. But I refuse to let Kinley infect me. I refuse to move back to Iowa. To let my paranoia ruin all my interactions, or assume anyone I meet will fuck me over in a monumental way.

I want to do more than exist. I want to live . I just needed Petra’s words to wake me up. To remind me.

Maybe I can return the favor.