As Evil As Predicted

Blain's phone starts ringing, but I try to ignore it in favor of sleep. I like sleep; maybe not as much as he does. I am, however, warm and comfortable wrapped around my boyfriend.

For some reason, he lets it continue to ring instead of picking it up. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s ignoring it. Or maybe he’s just really tired. I know he’s been running himself ragged with worry. I wish I could help somehow. He’s just too headstrong.

They’ve taken him off the case, but I’m not sure that’s stopped him. If I know my boyfriend (and I would like to think I do), he still at least wracking his brain and getting little tips from the detectives working the case. Sanders definitely wouldn’t keep it from him.

A few seconds later, Blain shifts to sit up. I see him rub his eyes once and furrow his eyebrows as he searches the nightstand for his glasses. His shoulders physically slump when he sees the name on his phone.

I can tell he’s trying to stay quiet when he says his name, but in the still of the room he may as well be shouting. It’s so quiet that I can hear the other person say they need him. The way he says, “I figured,” speaks volumes on how exhausted he is.

The person starts to talk to him again, but Blain cuts him off, “I’ll see it when I get there,” as he rises from the bed.

When he walks inside the closet, I zone out. It’s the middle of the night and I just want to get a few more hours of sleep before my body naturally wakes me up. I’m awoken again by lips pressed to my temple.

My eye blink open against my will and I hear myself say, “Again?”

He whispers a quick, “I’ll be back soon, babe,” and slowly kisses my lips this time. After a few seconds of lingering, his forehead falls to mine, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

At this point, I don’t know who he’s trying to convince.  I just snuggle back into the blankets and as an afterthought, I croak out an, “I love you.”

He connects our lips again for only a second and whispers into my mouth, “Me too.”

Slipping back into sleep is almost easy at that point. Believing Blain is a little harder. But eventually, in the warmth of my cocoon and the thought of my boyfriend loving me, I drift off into a dreamless slumber.

I’m not sure if it’s a few minutes or a few hours, but I’m woken again by my name being shouted from somewhere in the house. It’s obviously not in the same room as I’m in, but it’s somewhere relatively close. The hallway; maybe the living room? Either way, my name is still being called and I realize I’m going to have to get up. I also realize that it’s Blain doing the calling.

Why is Blain calling me from across the house and not just coming in here?

Sitting up, I run my hands through my hair before wiping my eyes. I hear footsteps stop in the doorway to our room before I hear his voice, “You need to get up.”

Blinking a few times at the light behind him and my voice cracks as I speak, “What’s wrong, babe?”

I can’t see his face because the light is behind him, but I see his head shake, “Can you please stand up, Henry?”

The way his voice sounds wrecked, makes me comply without another word. As I move over to stand in front of him, I casually stretch my shoulders forward to relieve the stiffness in my back. Before I even know what happening, Blain’s hand is pulling me toward him by the back of my neck. His lips are at my ear and his voice is on the brink of panic when he whispers, “There’s a programmed GPS in your glove box. Follow it. Don’t call. Don’t text. And make this believable.”