Page 142 of Manic

Manic slept for three days.

37

SUTTON

I peeled the new laptop box open, somehow managing not to wake Manic, and eased it out. The plastic wrapper rustled in the silence, but he didn’t move. He’d been asleep since we arrived at the motel, and with no phone call from Axell in those days, I decided to let him rest as long as possible.

With the charger secured to the wall, I turned the laptop on and it came to life with a low, welcoming hum. I sat on the bed beside him wearing loose shorts and an oversized t-shirt, propped against the headboard to scour the internet for new locations. Manic said we could go anywhere. Did he really mean that?

The corner of my mouth turned up.

Well, I supposed there was only one way to find out.

Hints of garlic, smoked meat, and sour-cream filled the room as I snacked on what food we had left. I was too afraid to leave without Manic beside me. Once he rose, we’d find something more substantial, but for now, beef jerky and gas station chips would have to work. My fingers moved over the keyboard, and for the next few hours, I researched every possible location.

When the sheets finally stirred beside me early afternoon, I froze and cast my glance sideways. Manic was already staring, though a small smile rose on his sleepy, well-rested face. No circles. No weariness.

“Researching?” he asked, and I nodded. “What’s on the list?”

“Depends.” I sighed. “How far do you want to be from Vancouver, and do you like hot weather?”

He hummed, though his eyes shot to the beef jerky bag, curiosity in his expression.

“I didn’t want to leave the room,” I explained.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Three and a half days.”

He blinked, as if he were shocked by that. “Really?”

I nodded. “Axell hasn’t called yet, and I didn’t want to wake you. I hope that was okay. Are you…”

My brows dipped, worry coursing through me.

I couldn’t bring myself to ask if he was okay, unsure if he was willing to talk about what had happened or everything he’d shared when we arrived. I had learned more about Manic in that hour than I had in the weeks as his captive.

My heart ached for him.

As if reading my hesitation, Manic exhaled and sat up, pressing his body into my shoulder. He placed a soft kiss beneath my ear. “I’m okay.”

My relief was instant, but warmth spread throughout my body when his hands drifted up my waist and to the underside of my bare breasts. Lazily swiping. Manic curled himself around me and I sank back, savoring the moment. The heat of his presence. Then he pointed to the well-detailed list on my lap, all with pros and cons on the paper.

“Florida?” he asked, teasing. “Mark that one out.”

“Oh, come on. It’s pretty.”

“And hot.” He scoffed, disturbing the hair at my temple. “We can go anywhere, and you added Florida to the list?”

“Everywhere is hot compared to Vancouver,” I mumbled. “What about Maine? That’s pretty, and not too far from where we are. Maybe another two days.”

Manic shook his head, and I felt his mouth move on my skin as he smiled. “How about Spain?”

“I don’t speak Spanish,” I groused, flipping a page. “So you didn’t actually mean ‘anywhere’?”

He huffed. “I did, just not Florida. Or Maine. And it’s not like we can’t learn a new language.”

I sighed and faced him, our mouths so close we shared the same breath. His dyed hair was an absolute mess from sleep, and I tugged on a black, silky strand before tracing over an eyebrow, then moved to his lips. He grinned and nipped at my finger.