I get out of the car and lock it, and hurry down the sidewalk, checking the building numbers until I find the right one—then face a problem I hadn’t thought about.
The building entrance is locked. There’s a ring but no names for the apartments. I shouldn’t—
Oh screw this. I should, and I will.
I ring all the bells in the building, once, then again, and then again, until someone starts yelling something unintelligible through the inter-com.
“Riot Gallagher!” I yell back. “Let me in.”
He doesn’t.
So I ring again, leaving my finger on the button.
Suddenly the door clicks open. I wonder if it’s the guy who was yelling or someone else. The whole building is probably trying to stop me from ringing again.
Works for me.
The door swings inward and I step into the cold, dark lobby with its narrow flight of stairs and the smell of piss.
Lovely.
I tap on my phone to light it up and use it to illuminate the steps as I climb up. What a creepy place. Not horror movie material exactly, but Brick Mansions and The Wire definitely. Grimy, dark and spooky.
Then I’m standing in front of Riot’s door—if Gale’s right and isn’t pulling a prank on me—my hand raised to knock.
Doubt circles back around my thoughts. Is this a stupid idea? What if nothing happened and he’s just resting—or out—or with a woman?
Oh my God, that would be…
No. Remember how he held you, how he bathed you and fed you, Pax. It doesn’t
matter what’s really going on. You need to check on him. You owe him that much and, well, if you interrupt anything you shouldn’t, then so be it.
Your heart might finally shatter into pieces so small the naked eye won’t see them, but you’ll know he’s safe and well and go on your way.
Somehow.
I knock. Then when that doesn’t seem to bring any results, I lift my phone again, searching for the doorbell. Ah, there. I ring and wait.
“Come on, Riot. Open up.” If he’s here. If he’s not screwing a girl right now. If he wants to see me. I bang again on the door. “Riot!”
Well, this is it.
Wait. Gale didn’t only give me the address. He also gave me the phone number, and although he apparently won’t answer it for anyone, I might as well try.
I half expect to hear his phone ring from inside his apartment, but there’s only silence.
Okay. I’ve done all I could. More than I should. Disappointment weighs on me, mingling with the ever-present worry.
Not your boyfriend, I remind myself. Not your problem.
Something inside me rebels at those thoughts and I bang again at his door. “Riot. Open up this freaking door, or I swear to God I’ll have Gale break it down. Riot!”
A thump sounds inside the apartment, and I step back, my heart tripping as he unlocks and opens the door.
Oh God. I didn’t even have time to think what to expect if he was here—except for the screwing a girl thing—but he looks...rough. His jaw is dark with stubble, his hair hiding his eyes, and he’s sort of hunched over.
And he reeks of alcohol.