Page 57 of Burning for You
Caro
Where am I? It’s like I’m back in college, staying the night with a guy I barely knew, but at least I’m warm and comfortable. A far cry from…
I sit up, and my breath stops at the top of my throat.
The shed, the flood, the chains.
Jesse.
Maybe those were just bad dreams. I’m sure I’m inside Levi’s room now.
Despite my heavy head and foggy memory, I know they were no dreams. The scrapes on my wrists tell me so. Barely hours ago, I was left counting down to doom with full consciousness.
Ironically, through my ordeal, I finally found the safety I’d been craving. The way Levi defended me from his brother affirmed that he wasn’t evil.
The bedroom door is open—it has been all night. I take it that it doesn’t have a lock, and Levi wanted to keep an eye on me. My kidnapper had pulled a sofa near the doorway, and slept there. I woke up a few times (Levi has left the light on in the room) and I didn’t pass up the opportunity to watch his slumbering form. He looks peaceful, like a man who voluntarily sleeps on the sofa so his partner can have the bed for herself. Not because he was punished. He did it of his own accord because he wants her to get a good night’s sleep.
My kind of man, if I may say.
I wish it wasn’t morning. I wish I had more time to rest and be guarded by Levi. The sofa is empty now.
Not long after, I smell bacon and eggs. But soon my head alerts me to be in fight-or-flight mode when I hear Jesse. “This isn’t a fucking Airbnb, didn’t I say?” he says to Levi.
“We all need to eat, Jesse,” Levi replies.
The noise in the kitchen soon subsides. How I’m glad to see Levi. He rounds the sofa to get into my room, his bedroom. Wearing a black singlet, a pair of moss-colored track pants and a tired face, he comes with a plate of breakfast, which I’m praying is for me.
“I hope you’re not a vegetarian,” he says.
It’s the first time I hear his voice sweet and steady like that. I look at the dish in front of me. Two sunny-side-ups, well-buttered toast, roasted tomatoes and a few strips of bacon. This isn’t Airbnb, this is five-star breakfast!
“Thank you,” I say.
So, Levi is quite the cook—a classic country cook, which I don’t think a lot of people do these days. Not in New York, anyway. The city food scene is obsessed with anything fusion and exotic. I could get used to this.
Munching my toast, I say to Levi, “I don’t know your father. How could I kill him?”
Instead of answering, he leaves.
Halfway through my meal, Jesse snatches my plate.
How dare he!
But in the end, I don’t dare challenge him—not verbally, not physically. I can’t afford to be chained up again. But holy bacon, it was hard to let go of that incredible breakfast.
“I can see your eyes getting busy, spying, observing. If you’re thinking of running away, don’t,” Jesse warns.
Levi joins us in a hurry, perhaps seeing Jesse interacting with me.
“For fuck’s sake, give it back!” Levi says, seeing what Jesse has in his hands.
Jesse scorns, his fingers slowly letting go of the plate.
As if anticipating the move, Levi spreads his palm wide, catching the bottom of the plate right in the middle. His astounding reflexes remind me of Peter Parker catching Mary Jane’s lunch tray. But he’s no Tobey Maguire. He’s my savior, real, be it in an office bathroom, out in the rain, or at breakfast time.
The young Holt hands me back my meal, and then he pulls up a chair and puts it in the corner of the room. He orders Jesse to sit there, away from the two of us sitting on the bed. Seemingly still stunned by Levi’s Spiderman-like move earlier, he obeys without complaint.
Levi hands me a pile of paperwork, saying, “These. These are coercion.”