Page 99 of On Your Knees

“Yeah, baby.” I keep petting his hair. “I just don’t know how to wrap my head around you doing what you did. For me.”

He shrugs like it’s simple and says, “I love you.”

THIRTY-TWO

Levi

I jolt awake in the middle of the night. I don’t know why. There’s no dream that kicks me out of sleep, but suddenly I’m wide awake with a racing heart. There’s a glow in the room. Ethan’s laptop. The light is bathing his face. He looks up, then he gets up. He comes straight to me.

He sits on the edge of the bed and pulls me into his arms. I’m trembling and breathing hard. I’m not sure why. I’m not even sure that I’m scared. I’m just flooded with adrenaline, like I should be running. Instead, I cling to Ethan, and he clings to me.

I calm down.

I breathe.

I settle and lay my head in his lap. He strokes my hair. His laptop has gone into sleep mode and the room is dark.

I ask, “What were you doing?”

“Getting things organized. Just in case.”

“In case what? And what things?”

“Money. Travel. In case we have to leave.”

Cold water runs through me. He means in case the police come after me. Because I killed someone.

Ethan keeps petting my hair. He reassures me, “It’s just in case.”

“You said in case we have to leave.”

His hand stills then his fingers start stroking again. “Yes, I did.”

“You would run away with me? Like, forever. Leave everything.”

“There is no everything, Levi. There’s only you.”

I close my eyes and breathe that in, and it’s such pure, sweet oxygen that it dizzies me. It sends me spinning right off the earth. My fingers curl on his leg, holding tight.

“Where would we go?” I ask.

“Puerto Rico to start. Then we’d get you a passport. From there, there are lots of possibilities.”

“You’d really do that for me?” I ask, greedy for more reassurance.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

I sigh and relax. I fall back asleep.

* * *

Over the next few days, Ethan is busy. Most things, he works on from the penthouse, but he leaves a few times. I always hate when he’s away. I worry about what might happen to him. I want him with me. I want him safe.

I’m very, very upset that he hasn’t been safe, not ever, not in any way, and every time he’s gone, I dwell on it. I imagine his childhood and what he went through. I think about all the people who hurt him.

I look at the news too. I expect splashy headlines about Pastor John Clifford’s death, but there’s only a little blip, like with most deaths in a city the size of New York. Apparent suicide. Nothing more.

I wonder at that, given the things that were on his desk