LEFT AGAIN
Angel's Pov
We've barely sat down in the kitchen, amidst small talk about bacon, when Anna hurries in.
Her eyes dart around searching for something. When they land on me a second later, startled by her sudden entrance, she looks like she might cry. “Oh thank God.”
She rushes to us and pulls both Andrew and I into a hug. He chuckles lowly, one warm hand on both of our waists. “It's good to see you too, Anna.”
Anna squeezes me tighter, as I'm sure she's doing to Andrew, and I let her.
Her hair smells like soap, and her, cinnamon and the hug is warm in a way that makes my chest ache a little, from the feeling of safety it evokes.
“You scared the crap out of me,” Anna mumbles, pulling back slightly to look me over. “Jameson called me last night but I was already home with Samuel. Came as soon as I could this morning.”
“We're fine, Anna,” I say, trying to ease the deep grooves in her forehead as she still assesses me.
”Are you sure?”
I nod, as she rubs down my arm. “Andrew's friend, The Laith found me.”
“Because he was unconscious!” After making sure I'm not about to vanish into thin air out of her very arms, she rounds on Andrew. “Unconscious for days!”
“How'd you get that information?” Andrew asks grinning as she reaches up to cradle his face. “And so soon.”
“Jameson,” she replies off-handedly, turning his face left and right. “The guards told him.”
“You and him have become very close, huh?” Andrew grins and winks at her.
And rolls her eyes, dropping her hands from his face. “It's good to know you're completely fine,” she quips but there's a smile teasing the sides of her lips.
I sit around the kitchen island as Andrew insists on finishing up frying up the bacon and Anna makes coffee, with them shooting down my offer of help immediately. I sigh and sit, watching them.
The smell of coffee and bacon fills the space, and sunlight streams in through the windows like it has absolutely no idea what I’ve just been through. I’m not mad about it. Honestly, I appreciate the belittling of it, like it doesn't even matter. Because it doesn't. It's the past, it's behind me and there it will stay firmly.
While the finish up I text Hank back and then Ceceila. She answers first, replying with a multitude of emojis to the casual message of my kidnapping.
But I don't reschedule, just yet. Even though I want to have the sleepover, I don't want to go back just yet. I just assure her that I didn't ghost her because of my strict, abusive boyfriend.
The morning goes on with an ease I, for some reason, didn’t expect. It's not jilted or awkward or silent. Andrew and I devour breakfast, so much so that Anna offers to make more bacon which we refuse.
After we eat, I help clear the plates, getting to the sink first. Andrew keeps trying to shoo me away and I'm sure Anna would have chimed in too, but she went upstairs to pee.
I keep at it, even as he hovers and I argue with him that it's not a lot of dishes. Because I want this, I want to do it. I want to go back to how things were immediately.
He doesn't let me do anything else after that, not wiping the counter or taking out the trash, or writing down all we used this morning to be replaced.
I get the last of the vanilla ice cream we bought what feels like a lifetime ago and curl up on the living room couch, eating it, slowly.
My phone vibrates and I immediately open my eyes and ready for it, knowing the possibility of people that could text me.
It's Hank.
The phone beeps again. And again. When the messages hit nineteen, they slow down but I wait because he's still typing.
‘Where are you? Can I see you today?’
I start from the top, replying to his numerous questions about what happened and placating him of his fears. I pause, only for a moment at his question about meeting up before replying that yes, I'd like to and I'm at Andrew's.
Speaking of Andrew, he makes his way down the stairs, not out of the kitchen. And I get a bad feeling because he's dressed.
He's in a fresh button down and pressed slacks, both in deep shades of blue, but the lack of a tie or a suit jacket gives me hope as he sits down beside me on the couch.
But he looks like he wants to tell me something, something I won't like and that hope is fast diminishing. “What is it, Andrew?”
“I, uh… I need to go in to work,” he starts. “I wanted to know you'll be okay for a couple of hours.”
And there it is. My smile falters even as hard as I try. “Oh,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Yeah. Totally.”
He studies me, cocking his head. “I’ll be back by one. Two, at the latest. I just need to check in. You won't even notice I'm gone.”
I really doubt that. “Probably,” I say quickly.
“Angel,” he calls firmly, coming closer and into my line of sight even because I'm not looking at him directly. “Tell me what you're thinking, please.”
“It’s just. . . dumb,” I mutter. “But waking up today and not seeing you there, in the room— it made it feel like I was back there. And now,” I'm afraid, “I think I'll feel that way again when you. . .”
He reaches across and takes my hand. His thumb brushes lightly against my skin, and I focus on the motion. He's here, and I'm here too. “I won’t be gone long,” he says softly. “And we’ll text. Or call. Or do whatever makes you feel okay.”
“I don’t want to be. . . clingy,” I admit feeling so damn embarrassed, I'm sure it shows on my cheeks all the way down to my neck.
“You’re not,” he says, squeezing my hand.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. He laughs, quiet and warm, bringing his forehead to touch mine. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”
I nod, my heart thumping a furious rhythm at the gentle contact. “You gonna be okay now?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” I say, starting to believe it. “Besides, you said I could text you so I will. . . every five minutes.”
He chuckles again. “Promise?”
I grin and nod. He smiles back for a second, stands and then he's gone.
The house is quiet immediately. I sit up slowly, suddenly losing my taste for ice cream, and listen to the silence that now feels a little too empty.
It’s just a workday. Not even up to a full one, he'd said just a few hours.
But I already miss him, miss the safety blanket he seems to be. Now I feel like I have to find a real blanket until he gets ba
ck, to hide from the monsters.
Panic slowly creeps into my veins, and I stand, going to find Anna.