Chapter Fifteen

AJ

I felt like I was floating through life.

Honestly, I don't think I'd known anything close to this kind of happiness since I was a kid, back when life was carefree and easy.

It was somehow even more fulfilling, though, being an adult with worries and responsibilities, but still finding a marrow-deep sort of contentment.

Obviously, the difference now was Atlas.

I went to sleep with him every night, woke up with him in the mornings. And many hours in between were spent completely naked, exploring each other's bodies, getting wrapped up in pleasure.

And, God, yes, the pleasure.

Every time Atlas reached for me, I knew that there would be multiple orgasms in my future. He showed me new depths of desire, showed me how an orgasm could completely overwhelm me, dull my other senses, and even rack my system with aftershocks once they subsided.

The craziest thing was, it didn't seem to matter how many times we had sex, I somehow always craved more.

Even just the casual brush of his hand on my lower back when he passed behind me had little sparks of desire pinged off my nerve endings, making me want to grab him and have yet another round.

I had to admit, even though I kept trying to urge him to take it easy, I was beyond thrilled that he was out of the cast and in the boot. Because, to put it plainly, the man had lots of moves and positions that the cast would have made impossible.

Aside from that, it also meant he was able to leave the house much more easily. Even if I insisted he use the crutches when we got somewhere.

His new SUV was a real treat, too. With actual heat that worked, now that the weather had taken a nosedive toward the thirties. I mean, the man had butt warmers in the seats.

On the nights when we didn't want to stay in, we played our favorite little game of driving around aimlessly until we hit a restaurant we'd never heard of before, and gave it a try.

Sure, the results were mixed, leaving us ordering in or making frozen pizzas when we got home, but it was a fun little adventure.

We did spend most of our time at home, though, sometimes with Atlas's laptop sitting on our legs as he scrolled through furniture sites, wanting my opinion on some additions to make to the house.

It occurred to me after we were done, though, that he'd left the decisions almost entirely to me.

An insecure part of me was concerned that he was letting me decorate because he didn't intend to be around long-term.

I worked hard to squash those thoughts, though, as the days passed and he showed no intentions of leaving, of even talking about getting on the road again.

Most days, while I was at work, he was at physical therapy. Sometimes, he would stop at the doggy daycare to bring me lunch, or drop off coffee if he was getting some.

Other days, he was home all day by himself, and I would come back to find he'd worked on some random project.

Painting the faded hallway. Regrouting the tub. Once, I came home to find he'd built a little picnic table out of scrap wood and turned it into a feeding station for our friendly neighborhood squirrels to eat without getting trapped in the bird feeders.

We'd even ordered a Christmas tree and decorations for outside.

The holiday season was coming up fast.

I found myself wondering what I could get him that he would like. And if, maybe, just maybe, he might be getting me something too.

I couldn't remember the last time I had been given a gift.

Way back at the beginning of our relationship, Joss did get me things here and there. But, looking back, it was really gifts for himself. Cookbooks. Kitchen gadgets. A stationary bike, so I could lose weight for him.

It was never anything I would personally enjoy, something that he saw and thought of that might bring me happiness. It was just for his own desires.

"Earth to AJ," Ella called, making me snap out of my thoughts, finding her standing there in front of me, pulling a pink hat with a big pom-pom on top onto her head.

"Oh, sorry, what was that?"

"I know that look," she said, suddenly leaning over the desk, resting her arms on it, her smile girlish. "Does your distraction have anything to do with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy?" she asked. "And don't you dare try to tell me that the man is just your landlord," she said.

"He's… not just my landlord anymore," I admitted.

"I mean, duh. My landlord has never brought me lunch to work. Granted, my landlord is an ancient widower who I'm pretty sure can't even see me properly, but still. Spill."

"You need to get home to your girls," I reminded her.

"The big one is going to a movie with her friend. The little one is at karate. The only things at home for me are a sink full of dishes that has been side-eyeing me for two days and a radiator that is spitting out so much hot air that we have to crack all the windows and walk around without pants on. So… again, spill."

"I don't know what to say," I admitted, realizing I'd never really discussed a relationship with a friend before. Since I never really had any friends.

"I mean, I think the pressing question is: does he fuck like he swaggers?"

"He isn't swaggering. He's wearing a walking boot," I said, getting an eye roll from her.

"You haven't answered the question."

"I… have no complaints," I said, but there was no way to stop the smile that spread across my face.

"Oh, that is the face of a woman who is getting it good and often," Ella said, eyes bright. "You seem so happy," she added.

"I am," I admitted, feeling my heart swell at just the mention of Atlas and how I openly felt about him.

"Awww," Ella said, pressing a hand to her heart. "Listen, I know you haven't wanted to share, but I know you've had… a dickbag in your past too," she said. "So, I'm just really happy you have a good guy now. It gives me hope."

"Hope for what?" Tucker asked, coming in out of the back, holding a snub-faced, black French Bulldog puppy with him. She'd been having a hard day being away from her owner who suddenly had to go back to the office after months of working from home. Tucker had been the only one capable of stopping her bellowing.

"AJ has a boyfriend," Ella declared.

"I don't… we haven't… it's not…" I started, uncomfortable admitting that we hadn't discussed labels. That, while we were certainly acting like boyfriend/girlfriend, that we hadn't ever had a talk like that.

"I saw how he looked at you when he was here the last time," Tuck said, saving me. "Trust me, that's your man."

"See?" Ella said. "This is so exciting. What does he do?" she asked.

"Extreme sports," I told her.

"That's so hot. So, that's what happened to his leg?"

"Yeah. He was a mess when he first came back to town. But he's mostly healed now."

"Does that mean he's leaving?" she asked.

"Um, no. At least… not for a while."

"Crap," Ella said, wincing. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to take away some of your joy. I am always putting my foot in my mouth."

"He's… making plans to be able to stay here. I think he will still travel, but his plans seem to be staying here. His whole family is here."

"Have you met them?"

"All of them, actually. He has three brothers and a sister. Then lots of nieces and nephews."

I wouldn't lie. Some part of me was hoping to one day be on Atlas's arm when he went to Sunday dinner. But I understood if maybe things felt too new to introduce me to his extended family.

"That's so cute. I'm so happy for you. It's nice to know there are still good guys out there," she said.

"There are," I agreed, looking over at Tucker, who was looking at Ella as he gently petted the puppy's head. "Right, Tuck?" I asked.

"None good enough for you two," he said, but I had a feeling he meant Ella more so than me.

"Oh, you little charmer, you," Ella said, giving him a warm smile as she turned to pet the puppy.

Then I got to watch as both their gazes lifted at the same time. Holding. Something passing between them.

I wondered, if I wasn't there, and if the sound of a car door slamming hadn't interrupted, if something may have happened with them right then.

As it was, Ella jolted, then turned to grab her white puffer coat, slipping into it, then fishing her keys out of her purse.

"Let me heat it up for you," Tucker said, reaching for her keys. "I'm gonna bring Max out to her mom," he added, jiggling the dog.

"Oh, that's so sweet. Thanks, Tuck," she said, passing him her keys, then turning to watch him walk away.

"Have you ever, you know, considered Tuck?" I asked.

"Considered him how?" she asked.

"You know…" I said.

"No!" she said, a little fast. "No," she added more firmly.

"Why not?"

"He lives in his car."

"He lives in a converted van," I clarified. "He's sweet. He's smart."

"He has no real grown-up responsibilities," she said. "I'm a mom. I have to pick my partners carefully."

"When's the last time you picked a partner?" I asked.

"Ouch!" she said, mouth falling open in mock outrage. "Besides, it's not like that with us."

"No? Because Tuck has never offered to warm up my car. Or dropped off coffee when I'm working. Or slept in his van outside of the daycare on the nights I work overnight shifts."

"You think… you think he has a thing for me?"

"No. I think that man is in love with you," I said, both of us turning to watch him smile and laugh at Max's mom, then press a kiss to the puppy's head before walking toward Ella's car to start it.

"Damnit, AJ," she said, wincing. "Now it's going to be weird between us."

"Only if you make it weird. I just thought that maybe you needed someone to tell you. Because he's too sweet to make a first move. And I think maybe you, like me, might not be great at trusting your instincts about good men."

"That's… fair," she agreed. "He is kind of cute," she decided, watching him as he grabbed the scraper out of her backseat, and started to scrape the thick frost off of her windows.

"He's really good-looking. In an unassuming, Golden Retriever kind of way."

"Did you ever see him without his shirt on?" she asked. "You wouldn't think he's as muscular as he is… Okay. I have to get going," she said, suddenly in a rush to get home to her dishes and faulty radiator. And likely to overthink about Tucker as well.

I was kind of proud of myself for planting that seed of interest. Maybe it was just because I was happily with someone that I wanted everyone around me to feel the same way.

I watched as the two of them shared a little conversation out in the parking lot, Ella smiling and laughing a bit more than usual, and I wondered if Tucker picked up on the difference.

But then he was coming back in, gathering up the garbage, and taking it out with him before pulling out of the lot.

I had to leave the doors unlocked for another hour, knowing one of our regulars was running late. We had pretty strict hours, but, obviously, exceptions had to be made. We all had emergencies now and again.

"She's coming, baby," I said to the frantic German Shepherd, his finely-tuned internal clock telling him that something had gone terribly wrong.

Samson kept trying to engage him in play with one of his toys, but the poor boy wanted nothing but to pace in front of the doors, watching for any sign of his owner.

Just when I thought he might pant himself into overheating, her headlights came rushing in, parking right by the doors, then rushing inside, wrapping her arms around her dog.

"I'm so sorry, bud. The AAA guy took forever to bring me a new battery. It won't happen again," she told him as the dog licked frantically at her face. "Again, I'm so sorry," she said.

"No worries! I'm here all night."

"Ugh, rough," she said, grimacing.

"You get used to it," I said instead of my usual I don't mind. Because for the first time, I kind of did. Because each night here at the daycare was one night I was away from Atlas. When I wasn't in his arms, on his chest, feeling him trace things over my skin that felt suspiciously like letters.

I tried sometimes to imagine what he was writing.

But I couldn't tell if the things I came up with were real, or my hopes and dreams.

Mine.

Love.

"Thanks again so much for this," she said, grabbing her dog's leash, then heading out of the door.

I waited until she was loading him into the car before locking the door and setting the alarm.

I tucked my phone into my back pocket, gave Samson a treat to settle down with, then went about my nightly tasks of cleaning out the indoor runs.

Beds needed to be stripped, the covers thrown into the wash with some of the toys, then each run needed to be swept and mopped.

After that, I restocked the treat jars, found and put all the leashes back, hauled some boxes out from the stockroom to restock soaps, detergents, and paper towels. God, we went through so many paper towels. But even well-trained dogs sometimes had accidents or forgot that they weren't supposed to mark things.

After that, I checked our three boarders, changing out their water, taking them out for one last potty, then giving them some love before putting on their white noise machine, so they could drift off peacefully.

When I finished all of that and figured out only two hours had passed, I sighed and took myself into the break room, brewing a pot of coffee I had a feeling I was going to need to drink all of.

I smelled it brewing as I turned to look at the schedule pinned to the board on the wall, excited to find that, so far, there were no overnight boarders for my next two scheduled overnight shifts. Surprising, considering the holidays were usually our busiest time.

I reached for my phone, checking my most recent text—a picture from Atlas of the Christmas decoration that just came in, a moose made of sticks whose head moved back and forth that he must have put together since I left for work.

My finger was swiping to text back as I reached for my cup of coffee when, suddenly, I heard something that had my heart flying into my throat.

Footsteps.

Footsteps inside of the closed, locked, and alarmed building.

For reasons I didn't understand, I immediately tried to tell myself I was hearing things, that it was my wild imagination, or simply just one of the dogs knocking around in their rooms.

It wasn't uncommon, especially back when I first started doing overnights, to jump at every shadow, and imagine masked intruders with each building noise. I once nearly jumped out of my skin when the air conditioning kicked on one night.

But this wasn't the beginning of my career here.

I knew all the sounds of this place intimately. The way the fridge buzzed. How the heat hissed. The jingling noise the dryer made.

Nothing sounded even remotely like footsteps.

Sure, Samson was free in the building.

But there was no telltale tap of nails on the hard floor. Or the jangle of the tags on his collar.

This wasn't Samson who, just two minutes ago, was belly-up on his bed, his little jowls jiggling as he woofed at something in his dreams.

Holding my breath, I tried to hear past the whooshing of my heartbeat in my ears.

Then there it was.

Step. Step. Pause. Turning into the big dog playroom. Step. Step.

Panic spread through my system, making my heartbeat trip into overdrive, and a cold sweat to bead on my brow and in my hairline.

I remembered to release my breath, only to have them start coming in shallow huffs that had my head feeling light, and scrambling my thoughts.

The break room had one exit.

And the footsteps were steadily approaching.

This made no sense, damnit.

The alarm was set.

I was sure of it.

I even noticed the telltale blinking of it each time I passed the front door. It was engaged.

How was someone in here?

I tried to rationalize with myself.

If the alarm system was disengaged, then maybe the owner had dropped by.

It didn't happen often, but they had the code, so they could get in without tripping the alarm.

So could Tucker and Ella.

But there was no way they would come back here this late.

I wondered if maybe someone had snuck in while we were open. It wouldn't be impossible. There were many times, especially in the middle of the day or right before pick-up time, that the front desk was unmanned because we were all busy trying to play with dogs or get them ready to head home.

But why would someone do that?

It wasn't like this was a place to rob.

We never dealt in cash. I wouldn't even know what to do with cash if someone tried to hand it to me. There was no register or safe to break into.

And, well, there was nothing of worth to steal.

Sure, dog treats and toys were expensive—especially the enrichment toys—but no one in their right mind would try to take them.

So, why?

The answer came charging back in a second.

Because it wasn't about money.

It often wasn't when a woman was alone and vulnerable.

Had one of the dog parents been harboring some sort of sick crush? Did they want to hang back and… act on it?

The steps drew closer as my head whipped around, desperate to find somewhere to hide, or a weapon to brandish.

There was a minuscule pantry in the room.

I turned and rushed toward, it, squeezing inside, then silently closing the door, telling myself that I wasn't a sitting duck, that this was just to hide until the person passed the room, went to look for me somewhere else, then I would rush out, and make a mad dash for the front door.

The built-in wooden shelves bit into my back as I tried to take a few slow, deep breaths, attempting to think past the anxiety gripping my system.

It was going to be okay, damnit.

My hand tightened on my phone, wondering if I should call the police.

But I couldn't risk making a sound. My own breath felt too loud to my ears. And I had no idea if a burner phone could be traced like a normal phone could. So what would be the point?

Tears pricked my eyes as I heard the footsteps move closer. I couldn't tell if they were in the room, or if they were just in the doorway.

I stood there, not daring even to breathe as I heard the steps move into the kitchen, then, it seemed, walk back toward the doorway.

Maybe they didn't check the closet because they didn't think I'd heard, that I had a heads-up enough to hide.

They'd circle back eventually.

I pulled my phone to my chest to keep the light from it from illuminating the whole room, potentially giving away my hiding space.

Swiping to unlock it, I found the screen still open to the conversation with Atlas.

I didn't stop to think twice.

I just typed out the message, saying a silent prayer that he would see it, that he hadn't gone to bed yet.

HELP

911

I was going to send another message when I remembered my volume was on full blast, so I clicked it all the way down, feeling it vibrate, then go silent in my hand.

I kept it there, but put it to sleep, not wanting the light to give me away as I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat, and reached for the door handle, turning it centimeters at a time, some part of me paranoid that someone might be standing in the doorway, watching it for movement.

Exhaling slowly, I started to push it open, half an inch at a time, until there was enough room for me to peek out.

There was no one there.

I sucked in a steadying breath as I eased the door open, praying it didn't squeak, didn't give me away, as my mind tried to decide my next step.

Not the front door.

That was a fancy door, one with an internal lock, not an external one. So if the security system was still engaged, the only way to open it would be to type in the code. Or, you know, just try to bust through the glass.

I didn't want to waste precious seconds typing it in if someone saw me, if someone was chasing me.

The back door had a normal toggle lock and deadbolt.

Opening it would still make the alarm go off. Which was fine because it would make the cops come as I ran for my life.

But it would take me all of one second to unlock both doors if I had my hands free.

Decision made, I tucked my phone into my back pocket, screen facing my butt, so the light wouldn't give me away if someone texted or called as I ran from the building into the dark.

There wasn't much around the doggy daycare. This lot had been chosen for that very reason. Because, obviously, dogs barked. And lots of dogs barked… a lot. So the owner had chosen a building that had a large plot, so we had outdoor play areas, but was surrounded by trees to muffle sounds and appease any nearby businesses.

The closest building was a small bagel place that was only open from six in the morning until one in the afternoon.

No one there to go to for help.

Then there was a chain bank.

Again, closed for many hours.

The next closest business that would be open was a gas station. There would be an attendant in the little booth, waiting for cars to pump gas. It was one of the things I loved most about this state, the safety of the gas stations at night. A man or two in the booth, more in the convenience store, if they had one. Someone to run to for help.

That was where I had to go.

And I had to go now.

Before he finished looking around, and then decided to circle back and start again.

I inched across the break room, keeping close to the wall, then working past the urge to stay hidden, and poking my head out to glance out.

The coast was clear.

And, somehow, that almost felt worse.

Some part of me wanted to rush back, close myself into the pantry, and hope for the best.

I couldn't do that, though.

Sucking in a breath, I carefully toed out of my shoes, knowing I would be more silent in my socks, even if it meant I would have to run in the freezing cold without the protection of my sneakers.

Then I turned and ran toward the right out of the doorway, heading into the long hallway, suddenly painfully aware of the doorways that led off of the hall, leading into other rooms in the building. The perfect hiding space for someone who might be lying in wait for me to show my face.

No.

No, I couldn't focus on that.

I was going to make it to the door.

I was going to get away.

I ran at full speed, heartbeat hammering, breath tight in my chest.

Then there it was.

The door.

My freedom.

My hands shot outward as I closed in, aimed toward the knob and the deadbolt, feeling some hope surge.

Almost there.

Once I was outside, I was sure I would be okay.

My fingers grazed the cool metal of each of the locks.

And it was right then that someone grabbed a hold of my ponytail, twisting, and yanking in an eerily familiar way.

"Found you," a voice said, making my stomach plummet as I was pulled forcefully back from my only chance at freedom.

Pain screamed across my scalp. And I knew there would be more to come.

Because it wasn't the owner.

Or some random pet parent.

No.

It was the person who meant to do me the most amount of harm possible.

Joss.