Page 68 of Wallflower

I do remember, somewhat. “It was…kind of hard…to focus on anything with you…fucking my face,” I rasp.

Brad chuffs a quiet laugh, tightening his fingers once more, extinguishing my air flow. “I suppose you’re right.” A sickening smile spreads across his mouth. “Speaking of that, you need to finish what you started.”

Ikeep busy, just as I have the last few days. Telling myself it’s to iron out the last few details of Maximus’s delivery, not to avoid Rose, who's worked herself into every waking thought I’ve had since I left that fucking place.

Distance is supposed to give you perspective. Breathing room.

All it does is make me fucking burn for her. An addict for the way she brought me peace in those few brief moments where the past threatened to choke me.

This isn’t me. It’s not who I am. I’m unsettled, the ground under me shaky, as I try to find myself beneath this infatuation.

I focus on work. Trying to lay the foundation for a new alliance on the mainland. All appears on the up-and-up. Jay, thecontact, assures me that when I’m ready to meet, he’ll be there. With a variety of products to appease any tastes I might have.

Bucky’s made no progress where the security system is concerned and it’s thrown a massive wrench into the flow of things. It’s dragging this plan out much longer than anticipated. It’s killing me to be away from my team like this. My warehouse. My home. Not to mention, staying in this hotel is fucking garbage. I miss my bed, the warmth, the security. I don’t have that here. Shantel barges in without a second thought most days, and I have to refrain from firing my best friend’s sister.

Perching my ass on the corner of the bed, I pull out whatever burner phone I’m using this week. Bucky groans as he answers my call. “Everyday like clockwork, Rip.”

“Any—“

“No. There’s been no progress. No trace of anything other than what I’ve already told you. And unfortunately that contact has gone dead silent.”

“You think Max’s guys found him?”

“I can only assume the worst, since he’s never gone dark on me before. Well…not without a heads up first.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit.”

“Do you want to meet for a beer?” I ask, even though I know the answer.

“More than you know, but we can’t.”

“I know.” Awkward silence lingers from both ends, eating up the minutes remaining on this burner cell.

“Look, I should get back at it.” Bucky resumes his quiet, but comforting, clacking against the keyboard. The sound reminds me of long nights hidden away in his room while he played some wildly popular fantasy computer game. His family never turned me away, but I was always worried they would. “No one wants a mutt at their dinner table begging for scraps,” my mother usedto say. Berating me for making her look like she didn’t take care of us. She didn’t. Her hand was as heavy as her patience was thin. And her cooking skills were shit.

“All right.”

“The quicker I break it, the quicker you can come home.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“You okay?”

“Of course. Just bored. Cooped up. Maybe cabin fever is settling in.”

“Maybe a walk will help? A swim in the ocean?”

“Yea, I’ll try that. Thanks, Buck.”

“No problem. See you soon.”

Click.

What Bucky doesn’t know is I’ve been walking, swimming, climbing the fucking walls to do anything but race back to that fucking mansion. To the only fucking socialization I’m allowed these days that isn’t Shantel.

I’m not one to bitch and moan, especially not about a plan that I concocted. But had I known how fucking lonely and isolating this shit would be, I’d have worked an assistant into my plan. Just someone to shoot the shit and pass the time with. Eat dinner with. Enjoy a comfortable silence with.