Not Looking for Love: Episode 7 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) (15 page)

"He wants to talk to you," Andrew says. Dad, Marjorie and Tina are gone. Probably for the best. I don't think Dad should see me get arrested.

"How's Mike?" I ask Andrew.

He shakes his head, and it's enough to make me expect the worst.
 

"The same," he says and the relief makes me dizzy. "I'll leave you to it."

He walks to the door and I want to scream for him to stay, but that would be childish.

After Andrew leaves, I get up and face the detective. "Yes?"

"I'm here to ask you some more questions about Vladimir," he says, and the fist of fear that's been clutching my stomach abates. If he was here to arrest me, he'd do it right away. Though I also know that's not how it always works. Maybe he wants to trick me into telling him more first, thinking maybe I'm weaker now that I spent the night at the hospital. But I won't break now. There's too much at stake.
 

"I don't know anything about him," I say, looking straight at his eyes. "Other than he shot Mike yesterday."

"That's a neat story, but we found your fingerprints on the gun," he says and reaches into his jacket pocket. This is it. He's reaching for the handcuffs, then taking me off to jail. I'm seeing it like it already happened. At least I got to hold and kiss Gail last night. At least there's that.

"I never fired the gun. Like I told you last night, I overpowered him and took it off the guy after he shot Mike."
 

The detective is looking at me funny, but I could be telling the truth. He pulls a photo from his pocket, and shows it to me. "Know this guy?"

I'm looking at an arrest photo of Greg, in which he looks younger and has no neck tattoos yet. I shake my head. "Never seen him before."

"He's been seen with your brother, for one thing. Have a good look," the detective insists.

I take the photo and pretend to look at it more closely. Maybe I'm making a mistake. But I don't want them to arrest Greg either. And I know I better not rat out any of Vlado's associates.

“No, I don’t know who this is,” I say and hand the photo back to him.

"He's the only one of Vladimir's inner circle we haven't been able to locate," the detective says, and pockets the photo.
 

I shrug, like it doesn't concern me at all. Although any one of those guys could've told them about me by now.
 

"Alright, that's it for now, but don't leave town," the detective says. "And if you think of anything else, let us know."

He fishes a card from his pocket and hands it to me.
 

"You're not arresting me?" I ask, the words just spilling out.

"Not at this time," he says. "The evidence we've collected so far corroborates your story. But I'd prefer it if you just told us all you know. If I find out you've been lying to me, I won't go easy on you."

"I'm telling you the truth." I wonder how much this lie will cost me in court, if it ever comes to that.
 

He says goodbye and leaves. I give him a few minutes of a head start then walk to Mike's room, look in through the glass door, unable to turn the knob.
 

Mike's still got the breathing machine attached, but his lips and eyelids are bluish and his heartbeat is all erratic. His chest hardly moves. I don't go into the room, mostly because I'm seeing myself in that bed instead of him, and I can't shake the image, can't understand why that's not how it happened.

Andrew joins me, the smell of hot coffee coming from his cup making me nauseous.
 

"They didn't arrest you, I see," he says and takes a sip.

I rub my eyes with my fingers. "I don't know what they're waiting for."

"They probably don't have enough on you," Andrew says. "Or maybe they're waiting for you to lead them to someone bigger."

"You think?" I ask. The thought never occurred to me.
 

He shrugs. "Could be. If I were you I'd keep low. Don't call anyone and don't answer any calls."

"I won't," I say.
 

This is exactly what I'd been hoping for, I suddenly realize. For once everything fell into place exactly like I needed it to. But I'd give it all back, if it meant Mike was alright. Without hesitation.

"All that you said about Mike…" Andrew says. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"I wasn't supposed to." It sounds so childish now, but it didn’t at the time.

"Shit," Andrew says and finishes off his coffee, crumpling the cup in his fist. "I knew Mike had problems, but to make a threat like that…maybe I shouldn't have left when I did."

"No, Andrew, don't take this on yourself," I mutter, though in some of my darker moments, I blamed him too. "We're both adults."

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "How the fuck did it come to this, right?"

I don't have the answer, can't come up with anything that will make even a little sense.

"Go get some sleep," Andrew says. "I'll stay here."

I don't argue. I want to hold Gail so bad I can already feel her soft body pressed against me. And I still have to get rid of my car somehow. "You'll call if anything changes."

He nods and I leave.
 

A green sedan might be following the cab I take to Gail's hotel, but maybe I’m just being paranoid.

“How is he?” she asks once I finally reach her room.

I wrap my arms around her, actually feel my tension drain away as she hugs me back.

“Stable,” I mutter into her hair. “He hasn’t woken up yet though. Might not for awhile.”

“I hope he’ll be fine,” she says, her voice muffled. “How are you?”

“I feel like shit,” I answer. “I wished Mike dead so many times in these last few months. And now he might be.”

She pulls away, and looks up at me, her eyes stern. “This is not your fault, Scott. He dragged you into it. You didn’t want any part of it.”

It sounds so logical when she says it, so true. But…

“I still fucked up. Else Vlado wouldn’t be shooting anyone.” My voice cracks as I say it, and she blinks. Then she rises on her toes and kisses me. And the softness of her lips, the love behind the kiss does a lot to take away the sting of my admission.

“You should get some sleep,” she whispers. I let her lead me to the bed and help me undress.

She doesn’t say anything else, just holds me, and I fall asleep in her arms almost immediately.
 

I don’t wake up until 2 AM, at which point Gail is asleep too. I don't wake her, even though I really want to.

Andrew sent a text at ten PM, saying there's no change and that he's going home to sleep for a bit. So I don't call him, even though I really want to do that too.
 

The silence in the room is thick, and I don't much like the hopeful relief over the fact that Gail and me can finally be together now. It’s ebbing away the hurt and shock of what's happened to Mike. I shouldn't be happy with a brother in a coma. But Gail’s arms around me feel so right, so perfect I can’t really find a single thing wrong with it.
 

A week goes by, then three. Mike still hasn't woken up. After two more operations to fix his lungs, he's finally breathing on his own. The doctors aren't really saying it, but I’m beginning to think he might never wake up again. Just pass away in his sleep one of these days. Or ten years from now. They moved him to another hospital, filled with other comatose patients who might never wake up.
 

Dad's drinking a lot, which has Andrew flipping out all the time now. Him and Tina are staying with Dad. I'm pretty sure they want to leave, and go back to Thailand. I never see them arguing, but the tension between them is palpable. Janine's back, and she thinks they might break up, if Andrew won't at least move out with her again, but I'm not so sure she's right. Or maybe I'm just in denial. Derek finally got his hearing, and it looks like home arrest is possible for him. So Marjorie’s not quite as vile to me anymore, even brings the kids over from time to time.

Gail and me moved into my mom's apartment, since I'm still not supposed to leave New York, and she wouldn't have it any other way. Not that I would either.

She's still sleeping even though it's almost noon. But she was up half the night working on her thesis. I'm sitting at the kitchen table, drinking my second cup of coffee, and watching the outline of her body under the sheets. I woke up when she went to bed, and haven't been able to get back to sleep. Which is fine. It rests me to watch her sleep. I had decided to go see Mike today, but I'm already reconsidering. Maybe I'll just go visit Dad for awhile instead.
 

I haven't heard from Greg at all, or anyone else from Vlado's operation. I saw Greg's grandma at the beach the other day, but I didn’t go ask her if she knows where he is. I decided it was safer that way, since the cops are probably still watching me.
 

The sheets rustle and Gail sits up, her hair a mess, her eyes only half open. She takes one glance at the sky outside and nearly topples out of bed.

"What time is it?" she asks.

I check. "Twelve fifteen."

"Why'd you let me sleep so late?" she shrieks, bolting out of bed.

"You've been working so hard lately. I thought you needed it." I get up and walk to her, wrap my arms loosely around her waist. She's still warm from sleep, but all tense.

"It's only for a couple of weeks longer," she snaps. "I thought you understood that."

"I do understand," I say, my own anger rising to the surface. It's never far these days. Between Mike's coma, Dad's drinking, that detective still hounding me with questions, and my fear that any day now he'll arrest me, my fuse is short. And I'm truly trying to make every minute with Gail count, which isn't that easy since she's spending most of them doing research or typing furiously.
 

Her glare turns softer and she leans against me, the tension mostly gone. "After I finish this we'll have all the time in the world."

"You promise?" I ask, mostly to tease her. I don't actually mind just watching her study. I don't mind just watching her in general. Anything, as long as it means we're together.

She runs her hands up my back under my shirt. It's enough to get me fully hard, and she feels it too, smiles at me as she presses closer.

"Maybe I can take a few more minutes off," she whispers, and I'm not about to wait for her to change her mind.

I kiss her lips then her neck, slide her tank top over her full, inviting breasts, make her moan as I take one of her dark red nipples between my teeth. Her stomach is taut, yet soft, and she's breathing hoarsely by the time my lips reach the edge of her panties. Her smell fills me, makes my cock throb painfully, lets me know things will work out. Because she's with me, and she's here to stay. She even tastes like hope.

I guide her down onto the bed, and pull her panties off. She scoots up higher on the bed, making the air mattress wobble. Then she's just looking at me with her chocolate eyes, and I know she wants me as much as I want her.
 

Everything else becomes someone else's problems as soon as my cock’s inside her, flees even farther into another life as my instinct takes over, and I start thrusting into her. For the first time since she crashed into my life, I can let go completely. And I still hate myself for being so happy Mike got hurt, but there's no room in my mind for even that anymore. All I truly know right now is her smell, the velvet softness of her body as we move in unison, pushing and pulling as one.
 

This is the only thing that’s real. All the rest is just passing things, already flowing away on the rushing river of my orgasm, her orgasm, melting away now and forever in the soft warmth of the aftermath of our joining.
 

She's growing tense again, and I can actually feel her thoughts drift away from me, and back to her thesis, or whatever.

She starts fidgeting in my arms, but I pretend not to notice, hug her closer and kiss her neck.
 

"I should be getting to the library," she says, and sort of moves away from me, though without any real conviction.