Mort tossed and turned in his bed, his thoughts refusing to rest. He missed Alex terribly. Ever since their second date, he'd been calm, relaxed, happy – and most importantly – he was the only one occupying his brain. However, since Alex had asked if they could take a bit of a break from each other, he'd been somewhat paranoid.
Coming to the conclusion that he was not going to be blessed with sleep, Mort went downstairs to his office. He opened the door and felt confused. He couldn't remember putting his laptop on his desk, let alone leaving opening it and turning it on. The screen was casting a glow in the room that made things feel eerie.
Mort found himself inching towards his desk – his pulse quickening. He looked at the screen and rubbed his eyes, but the words didn't go away. He began to read:
Another woman had stolen Todd's heart. She was everything that his wife wasn't…at least she thought she was. Unfortunately, fate had decided that Todd was to relive his painful past.
"Who wrote this?" Mort asked aloud.
"I did." Mort jumped back – John Shooter stood in the doorway of his office, the brim of his hat pulled down rather low.
"Get out," Mort said harshly.
"I'm not leavin', Mr. Rainey." Shooter lifted the brim of his hat. "I gave you a start, now finish it."
Mort once again looked at the computer screen, then back at Shooter. "No." He quickly highlighted what Shooter had written, then struck the delete key.
"Now, you know full well that you shouldn' have done that, Mr. Rainey."
Feeling slightly more confidant, Mort replied, "Well, I did."
"You know why she doesn' wanna see you – she's doin' the same thing the missus did."
Shooter's words killed Mort's newfound confidence. "N-no, she's not. Her husband died, she's scared…that's all."
"You don' sound so sure, Mr. Rainey," Shooter said, cocking his head slightly. "She won' sleep with you again, will she?" Mort didn't answer. "She doesn' want you, Mr. Rainey; she's rejectin' you just like the missus…and you know what I did to her."
Mort's voice was panic-stricken. "You didn't do anything! You're in my head!"
"My, how we forget," Shooter said. He made a "tsk tsk" noise. "You know, I like this new gal more, Mr. Rainey – she seems so much more innocent." He chuckled. "Well, she did anyway."
"Out!" Mort screamed, feeling utterly helpless.
"You know I'm right. You don' have the spine to prove otherwise – not after goin' to that motel."
"She's not with anyone!" Mort ran his fingers through his hair. "She's not…she's not Amy!"
"Not soundin' so sure about that either, Mr. Rainey," Shooter said, glaring at Mort. He smiled in a way that made Mort's flesh crawl. "You know that the wonderin' is killin' you. Go…"
Motivated by nothing more than wanting to prove Shooter wrong, Mort pushed passed him and left his office. He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair in the kitchen, then went into the garage. He got inside his SUV, but for some reason, it was out of gas. "She's not," he said to himself. "I know she's not. I just have to get him out."
Trust her.
"Where the hell have you been?" Mort asked, his voice demanding.
You pushed reason – that being me - away by doubting her.
"I don't doubt her!" Only then did Mort realize that he was walking.
No? You're going to her house in the middle of the night. I think that's plenty of doubt.
"You know I'm right, Mr. Rainey." Mort turned around – Shooter was following him.
Mort began to run. All reasoning was absent from his mind. It began to rain, but he didn't stop, he didn't look back. By the time he reached Alex's home, he was soaked and choking back sobs. She told me she loves me… His hand shook violently as he reached for the brass knocker. He looked at the name "Liedy" written in deep, bold letters. He turned away for a brief moment, then went against his instincts. He knocked, hoping the sound, unlike the doorbell, would only wake Alex and not Julia.
"Be prepared to run when he answers, Mr. Rainey." Shooter stood on the sidewalk, several yards from Mort.
He knocked again. "Please," he whispered. He heard someone by the door and knew he was being looked at through the peephole. The door opened.
"Mort?" Alex stood before him her thick, blue bathrobe. Her voice was groggy. "What are you…" She noticed the state that Mort was in. He was soaked to the skin, his hair sticking to his face. Nervously, he removed his fogged over glasses and she saw how red his eyes were. "Oh my God, what happened? What's wrong?"
Mort looked at the woman before him and felt as vulnerable as the child upstairs. He knew full well that there was nobody else in the house and he knew that he should have felt foolish – but he didn't. He couldn't. At that moment, he needed Alex more than he'd ever needed anyone. He had to show Shooter that his life would not repeat itself. "Alex," he said softly, "please help me."
She loved him. Of course she did. She knew she did – why else would she be so scared of, of everything? That's why she pushed him away in the first place. She extended her hand to Mort and he took it cautiously. Gently, she guided him inside. Before she closed the door, Mort looked back – Shooter was gone.
Whether it was relief from Alex not turning him away or relief from Shooter's disappearance, Mort fell to his knees. "Thank you."
"Mort, what's going on?" Alex asked, kneeling next to him.
"I don't…I…" Fresh tears fell from his eyes.
Not knowing what else to do, she brushed his wet, matted hair away from his face. "It's O.K., you can tell me." Mort shook his head and wiped at his tears. "You look terrified."
"I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry."
"Mort…"
"No, you asked for time and…I shouldn't be…" His words were interrupted. The last thing he expected was for Alex to kiss him…
After lingering for a moment she pulled away, her eyes watering. "I'm not perfect, Mort," she whispered. "I'm only human and I'm scared."
Mort tried to get up, but Alex placed a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to…"
"I've missed you so much and…God, you're shivering. We can talk later." She helped him up. "Let's warm you up first, all right?"
"No, I should just…it's nothing and…"
"Mort, nothing didn't bring you here in the rain. Were you standing out there long or…"
"I walked," Mort replied sheepishly.
"You wh…Mort, that's…walked?"
"No gas."
"You will tell me what made you do that – after I take care of you."
