Something in the Orange

Chapter Seventeen

Authors note: Its a two chapter week! I am hoping to get back onto the schedule of posting weekly on Sundays.

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"Wish I could take back times that I pushed you away, choked up and leaving you, I'm so sorry"
Green Squirrel in Pretty Bad Shape - Hot Mulligan

Moving feels similar to pouring molasses, slow and sticky. It's the only way she can think to describe it. She can feel every muscle in her body, every scrape, every bruise, every mark pulls at her, a deep ache and an itch she can't quite reach. Moving through her apartment she makes it to the coffee machine, letting the familiar process soothing her mind.

Her phone buzzes on the counter a message from Nestor telling her he was on his way up. Ever since she got out of the hospital he had stopped just appearing in doorways, but still floated through her apartment like a ghost. It seemed unfair that the man who haunted her dreams, haunted her waking moments too. Grabbing a second mug she makes a cup for Nestor, adding a small amount of sugar and oat milk to the cup as he walks in.It had been almost three weeks since she was taken and somehow all at once it felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago.

Nestor silently enters her apartment, sliding the door locked behind him, handing him the cup she just prepared. She offers a good morning before taking her own mug and heading slowly to the lounge. Sitting in their respective spots, her eyes drifting over him, today he was dressed in dark jeans, his dusty boots and a white button down shirt, a mix of the new and old, a look she was quickly growing fond of.

Taking a small sip of her coffee, Vee delights in the sweetness of her coffee as it rolls across her tongue. A brush with death had her savoring all the good moments in life; she had been avoiding talking about anything too serious with Nestor since they argued about her tracker, and Nestor had been avoiding talking to her full stop. If he hadn't spoken to Blair, Vee would have convinced herself he was nothing more than a figment of her imagination.

Each morning he arrived, they had coffee in silence and then he would leave, every evening he would show back up with food, watch as she ate, took her medications and then he would slip back out, a shadow dancing along her walls. Then each night, a part of her could feel him, moments of restless sleep soothed, whispered apologies and prayers filtered in through her dreams, and every morning when she would wake his scent lingering in her bedroom, floating throughout her apartment. Every morning she would spend five minutes convincing herself she was imagining it, it was nothing more than a wish and a cruel trick of her mind, and every day she fought the urge to check the cameras, to find proof of him slipping in each night and leaving before sunrise if nothing more than to ease her mind, but the courage never comes, so she wraps her heart's wishes deep inside and lets the delusion of the man who haunts her dreams loving her lull her into security.

The loud noise of Nestor's cell ringing caused her to flinch, pulling her from her thoughts. She watches as he responds in hushed tones, his face turned away from her making it harder to hear, a dark look filters across his face as he ends the call.

Panic starts to claw at her chest, "What's wrong?" she asks, breaking the silence between them.

"It's nothing" he mutters, staring daggers into his coffee cup.

"It's clearly something so want to tell me what's going on? You look like you're about to beat the shit out of that coffee and I've become quite fond of that mug."