The Beginning

Tess

I could get used to this. I could get comfortable with the idea of waking up every morning in a cozy king-sized bed, wrapped in a man like Dominic De La Cruz. I would take the five extra minutes of which I deprived myself of daily. I'd use it to be with him, just a second longer.

I told myself that I wasn't going to do this again. He wasn't going to deter me from my end goal. I ran away from all of the things Nicky brought for some semblance of normality. And here I was, stuck back in its craw.

Could I ask myself to compromise with a man who I've only technically known shy of a week? That was idiotic. I don't know how I could allow myself to think about those things when I'd been through them all.

I wasn't lying when I said our first six months were the best I'd ever had. Nate was attentive and thoughtful. He was ready for anything at any time, it seemed. We "fell in love" in weeks, too. We moved in together after months. I allowed myself to give freely and love beyond everything. Red flags looked like roses.

Maybe this was our six months, Nicky and me. I wasn't even allowed to have six months with him. He said he was leaving right after the funeral, which I assumed was in the coming week.

Something is better than nothing, I suppose.

Nicky's phone rattled the nightstand beside him. His hand flexed on my thigh and his body jerked. His palm ran the length of me until it reached my neck. Settling comfortably, he nestled back in. Nicky's phone buzzed again. His displeasure came to life with a groan. His fingers slipped from my neck, and he searched haphazardly behind him. Finally, he rolled away from me and snatched his phone.

"What, Roni? Jesus. What time is it?" He grumbled through fatigue. He sat silent for a moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah, hang on." The arm under my head pressed to the mattress as it slipped away.

Nicky sat up, sneaking out from beneath the covers and tucking me in. He lined a few pillows up behind me where he previously laid.

I shifted into them.

Nicky placed a hand on the curve of my ass.

I was hit with shockwaves all over again. I felt my core tense and pulse in anticipation.

Air forced from his nose in a playful chuckle. "Yes, I am." He sounded adversarial even though his thumb smoothed circles into my backside. "So, you found him?" Nicky stood from the bed.

My eyes popped open when I heard the bedroom door open.

Nicky shuffled out into the kitchen. He said something I couldn't hear as he stood in front of the fridge.

Though every joint ached and every muscle burned, I pulled myself from the bed. I crawled more than I walked to the bedroom door. I sat beside it to avoid getting caught.

Nicky sat a glass of water down on island. "Did anyone look around?" He asked with annoyance, then with frustration, "No I mean inside the motherfucking house. No one went in?" Nicky's palm clapped against the marble surface. "You treat it exactly like California." He command came from low in his chest. Nicky walked into the living room, some of his words muffled by distance. He came back into the kitchen with three orange prescription bottles. "I want to know who's doing him favors." Nicky set them down beside the glass and took a calming breath. "You're right." He admitted as if it were spoiled milk in his mouth. "Fine. Yes, but listen. Stop, listen. Send Marc to the mom's house and Silas to the trailer. I'll get in touch with Desiree."

Desiree? As in Principal Palmer? What could a heavily pregnant woman do to help with—

Her husband. A former corrections officer, now stationed at the Angelwood Psychiatric. He could confirm or deny Hannibal's whereabouts or at least to whom he's been corresponding.