Page 42 of Savior
CHAPTER FIVE
DEAN
Feeling like a damn zombie, I was too pissed off to sleep at all last night. I’m shocked my tossing and turning didn’t wake Vanna. She’d been sound asleep by the time I got home, sometime after two am. I’ve come to expect as much, but she must have been exhausted herself last night, not to have woken up at all. Now, sitting at the kitchen island with a steaming cup of black coffee, I’m reading Viper’s angry texts about how I owe him eight-hundred bucks for new tires. At least Chopper owns a towing and repo company, so he saved me some cash there.
Putting down my cell, I shift my eyes to glance over the headlines of our city’s weekly newspaper. More dismal news. More break ins. And the search for the missing girl is still on. No new leads, and her parents are offering a bigger reward. Shit makes me even madder.
“Good morning.” I hear Vanna’s chipper voice behind me as she walks into the kitchen.
“Morning, doll.” I sigh, lifting the coffee to my lips.
“What time did you get in last night?” she asks, opening the fridge to grab a bottle of water. She’s already dressed for the day in one of her witch shop dresses. I don’t know how this woman is able to wake up every morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed, without a drop of caffeine.
“Two.”
She looks at me, a puzzled expression on her face. “That late?”
I wonder what she’d say if she knew there are nights during the week, since I found that letter, that I don’t crawl into bed beside her until well after four in the morning…
“Did you finish her?”
Huh? “Finish who?”
“Serene, silly.”
“Oh… No, I haven’t. But I think I’m close.” Actually, I’m more than close. All I have to do is fucking start her up, but I’m a chicken shit. Afraid to have failed her. Afraid to admit that out loud.
“You were with Serene, weren’t you?”
“I wasn’t at an underground fight, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was with Axel and Viking.” I’ve actually been doing fairly well, staving off those particular violenturges, ever since Vanna and I solidified our relationship. She’s brought a significant level of tranquility to my life. So much so, I rarely feel the need I once did, for that particular outlet. Truthfully, I thought I’d miss it more than I do. A daily, rigorous workout in the gym, has kept me content in that aspect. So have our rigorous bedroom activities on the regular, as well. I grin inwardly to myself. Perhaps that’s why she sleeps so soundly most nights?
“At the Twisted Throttle?” she asks, placing the bottle of water on the marble island.
“Stogies… Are you hungry? I’ll make us something to eat.” I offer, hoping to change this line of questioning. “What did you make yourself for dinner last night? There wasn’t anything left over when I came in.”
She suddenly looks as guilty as I should feel about keeping secrets from her. “Oh my gosh, you came home hungry, didn’t you? I’m sorry, I didn’t cook last night or I would have made enough for you, too.”
“I don’t doubt that at all, baby. Not why I was asking, just making sure you ate. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve noticed a little change in you, since your parents visit.”
She twists the cap off her water, taking a sip before she places it down again and grabs the last banana from the fruit bowl in the center of the island. “I’m not sure what you mean?” she says, peeling it and taking a little bite. I can’t help but feel like she’s making a point to eat it in front of me.
I want to tread carefully with her about this subject, taking another sip of coffee as I try to think of a sensitive way to approach this with her. My foggy, sleep deprived brain is working against me. “Well, you’ve either lost weight, or that dress you got on stretched a little… somehow.”
Fuck... That was not smooth at all.
She looks down at the ankle length, black floral maxi dress she’s wearing. “Well, it’s an older dress. I’ve had it for a while. I suppose it’s a bit worn out… But… it’s one of my favorites… It’s my Practical Magicdress.”
Practical Magic is Vanna’s favorite witchy movie. I’ve sat through it twice with her, already. There’s a look in her eyes, as if she’s silently hoping we move on from this topic. I’ll grant her the reprieve, for now, for her sake.
Taking another hot sip of coffee, I swallow the burning liquid down and place the mug on the counter. “You look fuckin’ beautiful, baby. Always.” I remind her.
She smiles, though her eyes glance down. It’s still hard for her to take a compliment, even from me, the man she knows loves her more than anything. At least, I hope she knows it at this point.
“How was work yesterday? You were sound asleep and didn’t even flinch when I got home. Did you have a busy day?” I ask, changing the subject again.
“Work was fine. I was home a little later than usual myself, actually. I squeezed in an appointment on my way home last night. The walk-in clinic, on Boatyard Boulevard.”
“The clinic? You’re still not feeling well?” I look at her harder now, kicking myself for not realizing it’s gotten to the point where she felt the need to see a doctor. I’m really dropping the fucking ball with her lately.
