He reaches out and swipes the tips of his fingers over my cheek and around my ear. Twisting my head to look at him, he gives me a smile.
“You're going to make it.” There's so much confidence in his voice.
“You don't know that,” I say, brushing him off.
“Yes, I do.”
“How? How could you possibly know?”
“Because I've heard you sing.” Leaning over, he gives me a tender kiss on the lips. It's not dirty or raw, it's passionate, gentle, and full of feeling. “Besides, I've been around enough broken shit to know a good thing when I see it. And you're not broken, you're. . .” he pauses, letting his eyes dance around my face. His thumb glides across my chin, and softly brushes over my bottom lip. “You're special.”
My heart jumps inside my chest like a caged bird.
His voice sends a chill down my spine as he stares deep into my eyes. He doesn't doubt himself at all. He believes every word he's saying.
And in that moment, I start to believe him too.
I can do this.
10
Ian
Resting my hand on the small of her back, we walk upstairs to our apartments. We're laughing together, enjoying small talk about our lives growing up.
“I had fun tonight,” she says, bashfully looking down at the keys in her hand.
“Me too,” I say, running my hand down her arm and braiding our fingers together. “What are you doing tomorrow night? You want to catch a movie or something?”
“Yeah, sure, I'd really like that.” She smiles, and that fucking smile turns my blood hot and makes my cock jerk.
Heather turns, about to stick her key into the lock of her door, when it moves slightly.
“Wait, don't,” I say, pulling her back quickly. Nodding my head at the hinges, she follows my eyes.
The hinges are almost broken off the frame, and the door is splintering away. Looking closer, the wood around the doorknob is cracked, and it looks like the metal plate for the lock is bent and broken.
Someone broke in. . .
“Oh my God, did someone break in?” she asks, her voice bordering complete panic.
Heather takes a giant step forward, attempting to rush inside. Snagging her wrist, I pull her back.
“Stay right here, let me go check it out first.” Taking a cautious step forward, I gently push the door open.
The door swings inward, barely hanging on by a thread. Flicking on the switch, the light pops on in her living room. I scan the room. Her stuff is everywhere, thrown around the room as if the entire apartment exploded.
Poking my head in her bathroom, it's empty, and I find the same in her bedroom. “It's clear, you can come in,” I call out to her.
Heather takes one step in the door, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. “Holy shit,” she says, her voice a mere whisper.
Her arms dangle lifelessly at her sides as her eyes gloss over with tears. She hasn't blinked yet, but the second she does those bubbles of water are going to break.
“I'm calling the cops,” I say.
Heather moves around her apartment, stepping over stuff on the floor, her feet crunching on broken glass. “It's gone.”
“What's gone?” I ask, dialing the police.
“My guitar,” she says, pointing at the couch. “It was right there when I left, now it's gone.” Her eyes move to the small hutch beside her window. “And all of my grandmother's china is gone too.”
Tears begin to flow, streaming down her cheeks as she gently closes the door on the hutch. She heads into her bedroom as I tell the police the address and what's going on.
Heather comes out holding a jewelry box and flips it over. “All my jewelry is gone too. They took everything they could. Even my grandmother's wedding band she left me after she died.” She's crying, her face sitting in a state of shock. “Why? Why would someone do this?”
“Because people are assholes.” Sitting down beside her, I wrap my arm around her and pull her in. Burying her face in my side, her body begins to shake as she cries harder.
Her breathing is labored. She's trying to catch her breath, but all she's able to do is inhale sharp, shallow gulps of air. She's devastated, and I feel terrible.
This is my fault. This is all my fault. I could have prevented this.
I've avoided doing the right thing. I let the place go, and I could have fixed it up easily over the years. I've just been too single minded to give a shit. And because of that, because of my disdain for this fucking place, I let this happen.
All the hurt she's feeling, all the loss, all the pain, it falls on my shoulders.
I did this. Me.
My chest tightens as anger and regret build inside. I have to fix this. It's on me to make it right.