Page 11 of Nitro
The house was quiet in a way that pressed in -- no television, no radio, no voices from other rooms.Just the low hum of the refrigerator and the sound of our breathing, slightly out of sync.I kept my bag on my shoulder longer than I needed to, the strap digging into my skin, a reminder that I was still in control of at least one thing.
The living room held few personal touches -- a single framed photo of the Reckless Kings hung on one wall, the men arranged in rows, Nitro standing slightly apart from the rest with his gaze on the camera and his expression unreadable.A jacket was thrown over the back of the armchair -- the only thing in the room that wasn’t precisely where it belonged.Even the remote control on the coffee table was aligned perfectly with the edge.
I set my bag down near the couch -- not unpacking it, just setting it down.The small act of not-quite-committing hung in the air between us, a question neither of us had voiced yet.
“You hungry?”Nitro asked, breaking the silence.He’d moved to the kitchen, was standing at the counter with the refrigerator door open, his back to me.“I can heat something up.”
“I’m fine.You literally just fed me,” I said.“Just tired.”
He closed the refrigerator and turned to face me, his expression giving away nothing.“Back bedroom’s yours.Bathroom’s got towels.Extra blankets in the hall closet.”Each sentence dropped between us like something solid.“Anything in the kitchen’s yours.Don’t need to ask.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.Four months ago, I’d followed him down a hallway with nothing but want driving me.Now I stood in his living room with the evidence of what that night had cost us both, and the road ahead felt impossible to map.
“I’m not staying,” I said, the words coming out before I could catch them.“Not permanently.This is just until I figure things out.”
He looked at me for a long moment, his gaze moving over my face the same way they had that night -- taking stock, reading the lines I tried to keep blank.“I know,” he said finally.And yet, despite his words, I had the feeling he was never letting me leave.
The key was still in my hand, warm from my grip.I slid it into my pocket.A decision, or the start of one.Not the one I’d planned to make when I’d walked through the gate yesterday, but the only one that made sense with what I knew now.
He moved past me toward the hallway, giving me a wide enough berth that we didn’t touch.“I’ll be in the garage if you need anything.”
Then he was gone, the door closing behind him with a soft click, and I was alone in a house that wasn’t mine, with a key in my pocket and two lives depending on what happened next.
I’d been in the house for three hours when the front door opened.I’d unpacked nothing, changed nothing, touched almost nothing -- just moved from room to room, listening to the creak of the floorboards under my feet.I’d found the towels in the bathroom, the extra blankets folded with military precision in the hall closet, the coffee mugs arranged by size in the kitchen cabinet.All of it ordered, all of it belonging to a man who kept his world as controlled as the expression he wore.
I was in the kitchen when I heard the door, my back to the entrance, my hands braced on the edge of the counter.My heartbeat kicked up before my brain had fully processed the sound -- the awareness of another person entering a space you’ve claimed, even temporarily.
Nitro’s boots made a different sound on the hardwood than mine had -- heavier, more certain.I didn’t turn around, just straightened up and reached for the glass of water I’d been drinking, giving myself something to do with my hands.
He nudged me away from the sink to wash his hands.“Closet in the bedroom’s empty.Drawers too.”
I looked up at that, caught the careful neutrality of his expression.“I’m not unpacking.Not yet.”
The corners of his eyes tightened for a brief moment.“Whenever you’re ready.No rush.”
We stood there, the exchange stalled between us, neither of us moving.His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture shifted to the stillness of a man who’d made his decision and was waiting to see if I’d accept it.
The afternoon light came through the kitchen window in a long, golden bar, cutting across the floor between us.In it, dust motes swirled and settled, rising and falling with each breath we took.I watched them instead of his face, using the moment to think.
“I’ll take the room,” I said finally.“Tonight.”
He nodded.“It’s yours as long as you need it.”
I picked up my bag from where I’d set it near the couch.I walked toward the hallway, my steps sounding too loud in the quiet house.Behind me, I heard the sound of running water, the click of the light being switched off.But he didn’t follow -- just stayed in the kitchen, giving me the space to make whatever choice came next.
* * *
The bedroom was dark except for the thin strip of light under the door from the hallway and faint moonlight coming through the window.I lay on top of the covers, still dressed in the jeans and shirt I’d worn the day before, my hands folded over my belly, staring at the ceiling.My bag sat on the floor beside the bed, unzipped but not unpacked -- a reminder that this was temporary, a pause rather than a commitment.The clock on the nightstand read 2:17 in soft red numbers that cast just enough light to make the shadows deeper.
I’d been lying there for hours, watching the numbers change, listening to the house settle around me.The room was spartan but not cold -- a queen bed with a plain navy comforter, a dresser, a closet with the door partially open to reveal an empty rod and a single hanger.The curtains didn’t quite meet in the middle, leaving a gap that let in a slice of moonlight across the foot of the bed.
I turned onto my side, facing the empty half of the bed, and pulled my knees up slightly.The twins shifted with the movement.I rested my palm against the curve, feeling the firmness beneath my hand.Four months ago, they’d been nothing but a possibility.Now they were the reason I was lying in this bed, in a house that wasn’t mine.
The door opened without a knock.
I didn’t startle -- had heard the footsteps in the hall, the pause outside the door.But my body went still, every muscle tense as Nitro stepped into the room and closed the door softly behind him.
He didn’t turn on the light.Didn’t speak.Just moved to the bed -- no wasted movement, no unnecessary sound.He lay down on top of the covers on the other side of the bed, not touching me, leaving plenty of room.
