Page 6 of Silver Lining Love

Out of pure instinct, I reached over and put my hand on her knee, trying to give her support. As soon as my palm touched her, she turned toward me, curled up into a ball, snuggled against my shoulder, and cried. Her movement caused my hand to slide down her leg to mid-thigh. I didn’t move my hand; I just rubbed my thumb back and forth in a soothing motion.

My brain knew that the soft skin I was feeling was purely innocent. That just because her body was pressed up against me, nothing physical was going to happen between us. Unfortunately, other parts of my body were not so clear on the situation.

It turns out my dick has no empathy.

Fuck. Only an asshole would get hard in this situation, but it turned out I’m an asshole. Who knew?

Relief washed through me when I saw the exit to the hospital.

I squeezed Whitney’s thigh tenderly as I softly told her, “We’re almost there.”

She nodded against my shoulder and then took a deep breath and straightened in her seat. When she did, my arm fell back at my side. I immediately missed the feeling of her weight against me and the silky smoothness of her skin beneath my fingertips.

Thankfully, she was oblivious to the inappropriate urges and feelings I was experiencing.

After taking a deep breath and exhaling, she grabbed one of the bottles of water I’d brought and chugged it down. Then she pulled on my sweatpants and sweatshirt over her dress. When she had them both on, she pulled the sun visor down.

“She’s going to be okay,” she stated as she looked at her reflection and wiped her face before gathering her hair, twisting it, and securing it in a bun on the top of her head. “Shehasto be okay,” she affirmed resolutely.

I remained silent.

“Do you have any napkins?” she asked, sounding much more alert than when I’d put her in the truck.

“Glove compartment.”

She opened it, grabbed a few napkins, wet them with the water bottle, and then wiped her entire face clean. When she was done, she crumbled up the used napkins, threw them in the plastic bag I’d given her, shut the visor and shifted toward me.

“She is going to be okay, right?”

The vulnerability in her voice caused a knot to form in my throat. I wasn’t going to lie to her. There was no way I could promise her that. Thankfully, before I had to answer, I was turning into the hospital driveway.

I stopped in front of the emergency entrance. “I’ll park. You go.”

She reached for the door handle but then hesitated. Her head turned back to me and the look of uncertainty and fear in her huge blue eyes shattered my heart. “You’re not going to leave me, are you?”

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

I’ll never leave you.I wasn’t sure where that thought had come from, but I was damn glad I hadn’t voiced it out loud.

“Promise?” she whispered.

“I promise.”

She took a deep breath and then got out. I watched as she walked up to the doors in my sweats and her high heels. I knew this wasn’t the time but all I could think was how fucking adorable she looked and how protective I felt about her. Like she was mine. Which she wasn’t.

As I drove and found a parking spot, I tried not to read too much into the feelings that the situation was engendering in me.

Whitney had always been a contradiction to me. She was equal parts innocence and worldliness, sweetness and bitchiness, indifference and empathy. I’d always attributed her opposing attributes to her unconventional upbringing.

She’d told me that before she’d moved in with her grandparents when she was ten, her childhood was unstable—to put it mildly. Her mother always put her relationships with men before her daughters. She would up and leave in the middle of the night and not come home for days.

The only predictable thing in her life was her sister and then her grandparents. Both of her grandparents were gone, so the only real family and support system she had was her sister. I couldn’t imagine what that would feel like. I had seven brothers, a sister, and the most loving parents known to mankind. And I’d moved halfway across the country to get away from them.

I shook that thought off as I walked through the sliding doors of the hospital and up to the information desk.

“I’m here with Whitney Foster. Her sister Addison?—”

The nurse nodded, obviously aware of the situation. “Can I see your I.D.?”

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