"Do you have any idea who they were looking for?" The police officer asks me. He has asked the same question twice already, and I've avoided answering it.
There were two men in my apartment tonight. I am still trying to come to terms with exactly what happened, but it was so fast. The man who grabbed me, his hands were only on me for a second. They were gone the very moment they realized that I had no idea where Michael was either.
And assuming that they had already checked his apartment, he didn't make it home.
This is all I can think about as the police officer waves his hand in front of my face, bringing me back to attention. "Miss Williams, I know that you're shaken, but I need to know if you know who they were looking for."
Going against every logical fiber of my being, I lie. "No."
The officer launches into what seems to be a rehearsed reassurance, but I am not listening. Maybe I should tell him that Michael is out somewhere on the streets, intoxicated, and possibly in danger. But telling him that would require telling him that I do actually know who the men are looking for, and some instinct that I didn't know I had is telling me that I should not do that.
"Kate?" A panicked voice sounds from the hallway and I feel my upside-down world right itself for a moment. "Kate!"
"Sir, you can't just go in there-" another officer's voice is cut off as Michael pushes past him, walking through the door with purpose and turning to find me in the kitchen. His eyes widen in shock and worry at the sight of me standing with another officer, surely looking distraught.
I have no idea what expression my face holds, but worry flickers in Michael's eyes. "What happened, Katie?" He breathes, stepping toward me.
I just turn away, overcome with unidentifiable emotions, back to the officer who looks extremely uncomfortable. I realize then that I have tears on my face, that they are constantly streaming from my eyes and that I can't stop them. I am crying a little out of fear, but mostly out of relief. As much as I don't want to admit how invested I am in Michael, the thought of him being in danger, of not knowing where he was... I am suddenly breathing much easier than I was ten minutes ago.
"You know him?" The officer asks me, nodding towards Michael. That seems to be the undoing of Michael's patience; he pushes forward and places his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him.
"Are you okay?" He asks, the concern in his voice causing my confused heart to stutter. I just nod my head and lean into him a little, unable to help myself. Michael takes advantage of my momentary slipup and pulls me to his chest, his arms going around me protectively.
"What happened?" He growls at the police officer over my shoulder. He smells like whiskey but he seems to have sobered up for the most part. There is a momentary silence and I know if I look up, Michael and the officer will be staring each other down, each one attempting to intimidate the other. Despite the badge, I am almost positive that Michael would win.
"Miss Williams came home to find a pair of intruders in her home," the officer says, almost sternly. Michael's body stiffens, and I cling to him as he drops his arms from around me.
"What?" He asks, stepping towards the officer. I still haven't let go, so I move with him. Michael looks down at me clinging to his body and his eyes soften a little, his hand rubbing gently up and down my back. I hide my face in Michael's shoulder as the officer reluctantly explains the situation, afraid that if I look at his face I will see something I don't want to.
Michael's body is shaking with anger by the time the officer finishes his explanation, and his hand goes to my chin, tilting my face up.
"Are you okay?" He asks again. I just nod. "Did you find them?" Michael asks the officer.
"No."
"What do you mean, no?" Michael asks. "They were in her apartment, they can't have gotten far!" Michael's logic is not entirely accurate, but his head is clearly elsewhere.
"Do you live nearby?" The officer asks. Michael nods. "Miss Williams, if this is a friend of yours, I would suggest maybe staying at his place tonight. Just on the off chance that the intruders return here, now that they know that you're a woman, living on your own."
Michael gazes down at me, but I just nod. Relief flashes in his eyes and I know that he was worried that I would reject him. Despite our efforts to stay away from and undermine each other, we both essentially want the same thing. For the other to stay.
The air in the kitchen grows increasingly uncomfortable when Michael doesn't let go of me and the officer just watches us.
"Are you done here?" Michael asks rudely. I reach my hand up and swat the back of his head. "Sorry," he mumbles. The officer just laughs and reaches out to shake his hand. To my surprise, Michael takes it without a sarcastic comment.
"Do you feel comfortable with us leaving now, Miss Williams?" He asks me kindly. I don't have to look to know that Michael is rolling his eyes.
"Yes, thank you," I say, withdrawing my arms from around Michael and shaking the officer's hand. I walk with the two officers to the door and lock both deadbolts behind them, even though Michael and I will be leaving soon.
I turn around and jump a little; he is right behind me, so stealthy that I didn't even hear him come up. His eyes are guarded as he half opens his arms and I walk into them.
"Baby, did they hurt you?" He breathes into my hair.
I shake my head, burying my face into his neck and ignoring the way my stomach flips at the way he called me "baby" without even seeming to notice. I feel like crying.
"Are you drunk?" I whisper.
"A little," he says, a laugh in his voice. "But not really. Some stuck up waitress cut me off."
"It was for your own good," I smile, my arms still locked around his waist. I am tempted to ask where he was between the time he left and the time he got here. If he had just come straight home, he would have most definitely encountered the men first. Michael would have come to my apartment before his, and what would have happened then? As terrified as I am, I am glad that it was me and not him.
I pull away and walk into my bedroom, and Michael follows close behind me. "What are you doing?" He asks as I pull a bag from the closet and begin throwing clothes in it.
"Packing," I tell him. "I thought we were going to your place?"
"We're not." He takes the bag from my hand and sets it on the bed, not elaborating.
"Why not?" I ask.
"They won't come back here. It's not you they're looking for."
