Chapter 4

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"Lincoln is danger. Danger with a big, fat capital D, screaming at me to stay away from him."


What the hell am I thinking.

As soon as he laid his eyes on me I just knew. I knew he had no idea who I was, and I simply cannot deny that it fucking hurt.

And still, for some reason, I felt like I owed him. I just had to take him home - far, far away from his own demons on that bridge.

That was probably the most spectacularly bad idea I have ever had.

But I couldn't help myself. He looked so lost, the darkness in his eyes so blatantly obvious, that I felt like I had no other choice, just then. Because I couldn't just leave him there. No decent human being would've done that.

"Here we are." I say as if that wasn't obvious after I parked the bike in the garage right next to my apartment complex.

He doesn't say a word, which I'm not all too surprised about, to be honest. For some reason, he does not strike me like the kind of man that speaks a lot. Not anymore, at least.

I lead him through the oak wooden door, greeting the porter on my way in.

"Hey, George."

"Hello, Mia. Do you want me to get that hellish machine of yours into the garage?" he waves at me as he answers, that amused but disapproving look on his face he always gets when I drive my Big Lady out of town.

"That won't be necessary, but thank you. Enjoy your evening, please." I shoot him a quick wink and beam at him as I answer.

"Okay then. Same to you, Mia... And companion." His eyes move to the man next to me, and I can't help but put on my best puppy face, hoping he will keep this quiet. I know how tightly he's connected to my dad, and I definitely wouldn't want my father to know about this.

My guest watches the interaction with a raised brow, and George just shakes his head with an expression on his face that could resemble my father's.

"You're trouble, Miss Mia."

And I can't help but grin at him, because boy oh boy isn't that an understatement and a half.

"I'm neither going to deny nor confirm that statement, George. Good night."

Shooting him one last wink I walk up the flight of winding stairs until I reach my apartment door. There is a weird atmosphere surrounding us as we enter the hallway, the sudden realization that I am in fact standing in my apartment with this exact man crashing down on me.

But as I turn to look at him I apprehend he must feel even more out of place than I do, and I can't help but feel sorry for him. I don't know what exactly happened to him that made him attempt to do what he was about to, but it must have been tough, if he went from the man I knew to the man standing in front of me, now. Or maybe the ghosts of his past are still haunting him. Who knows.

I lead him into the living room, throwing off my boots on the way there. He follows my notion as he walks right behind me, placing his sneakers neatly on the shoe rack next to the door.

"Come on. Have a seat." I gesture to the armchair to my left, and he nods his head before taking a seat, his eyes studying me warily, almost like he's trying to figure me out.

Good luck with that one, buddy.

"What's your poison?" I ask as I walk towards the small bar I have installed here just a few months ago. I'm not a big drinker, at least not the strong stuff, but I like the style and the feeling of standing at a rustic counter with a nice glass of gin tonic in my hand.

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