Biker's Virgin

“If you don’t mind some company, I’d like to be there when you come home.”

The moment she made the suggestion, I felt better, and I could see a little light once more. “You can go a little earlier and wait for me at my apartment. The spare key is under the mat.”

“I’ll do that,” she assured me.

“You’ll be there when I get home?” I asked, desperately wanting to see her.

“I will.”

“You promise?”

“Cross my heart,” she assured me. “I’ll be there waiting for you.”

They were the most beautiful words I felt I had ever heard in my life. And suddenly, my heart didn’t feel quite so heavy and my day didn’t look quite as dark.

Chapter Twelve

Megan

I found the key right where Phil said it would be. I walked inside the apartment and turned on the lights. Phil’s apartment was slightly bigger than Brent’s and in much better condition. But it also looked like it was barely used. The furniture was sparse, which might have been the real reason I considered this apartment to be slightly bigger, and Phil’s things were flung about the space in chaotic fashion.

Unable to help myself, I started tidying up a bit, making sure not to invade his personal space. I just picked up the things that were out in the open and popped them back where they belonged. I laid Phil’s shoes by the door, his clothes in his bedroom, and I washed all the cups and plates and put them away in the cupboards. Once that was done, I did a quick sweep of the apartment and sprayed some air freshener all around. When I was finished, the apartment looked far better, and I was satisfied.

I had opted to come over hours before Phil was due to show up, but I had wanted to do something special for him and figured a home-cooked meal might be just what he needed. I knew that he’d be late coming home, but I figured he could still eat it the next day.

I had brought over some chicken and lasagna sheets because I found that even after a night in the refrigerator, lasagna was still just as yummy as the day before, at least in my opinion. I cooked the chicken, made a creamy garlic sauce to go with it, boiled the pasta sheets and then I began to assemble my lasagna before popping it into the oven.

The smell of baking pasta in the oven made my mouth water, but I didn’t want to dig in without Phil, so I munched on the apples I had brought over. I ended up on the couch flipping through channels on the television, trying not to think about the two blackened bodies Phil had described to me. I couldn’t imagine having a job that put me in those types of situations. I kept seeing their mother in my mind’s eyes. She had no face, but I could hear her screams. It was the universal symbol of pain.

As my mind began to dart from one bizarre thought to another, I felt myself slip into unconsciousness. It felt like one moment I had been falling into sleep, and the next moment the strong scent of coffee was slapping me awake. I darted upright, blinking against the artificial light.

“Hey,” Phil’s voice was gentle. “It’s okay…it’s just me.”

“Phil,” I said, trying to smile at him. “You’re back. What time is it?”

“Twenty past twelve,” he replied.

“Whoa…I’ve been asleep for hours.”

He smiled. “I’m glad. I didn’t want you staying up for me. You should have used my bed.”

“I wasn’t planning on sleeping,” I said, now feeling wide-awake.

He was kneeling in front of me, handsome as ever. He looked tired, but he looked alert and wired. I could tell that the trauma and stress of his day would probably keep him awake all night.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. He sighed and then shrugged. “I’m feeling pretty…blah,” he replied.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“No.”

“I have homemade lasagna in the oven,” I said, remembering.

“I smelled it the moment I stepped in here,” he said with a small smile. “And it smells amazing, but I think I need a shower first. I showered back at the station, but I think I need another one.”

“Of course.” I nodded, as I rose, pulling Phil up with me. “Come on.”