Page 104 of Captivating Anika

Not that she didn’t suggest for it to turn into something more on a few occasions, but I’ve only ever had eyes for Anika.

“And I never gave her reason to think so,” I add.

The next moment the door opens and Nira slips in, her focus on the bed.

“Oh, my precious girl.”

I reluctantly let go of Anika’s hand and sacrifice my chair to make room for her mother. There’s a comfortable chair in the corner of the room by the foot end of the bed where I take a seat.

From here I can keep an eye on her and on the door. I settle in and listen to Nira’s soft voice talking to her daughter.

In no time at all, my eyelids get heavy.

Anika

“Hello, my boys.”

I can barely walk in the door with the puppies jumping up around my legs.

If it had been up to Hog, I wouldn’t have been walking at all. He insisted on lifting me into the Suburban when we left the hospital, and was ready to lift me back out when we got home just now. I put my foot down though, and insisted on walking.

“Zeke! Ryder! Settle down,” Hog orders with debatable results. To me he says, “Sit in the chair, ’cause if you sit on the couch, they’re going to be all over you.”

He’s not wrong, and I’d prefer they don’t bump my shoulder.

I can’t remember who it was who told me day three was the worst in terms of pain when recovering from most injuries, but I’m feeling the truth of it. I almost asked for a painkiller this morning—because the over-the-counter stuff definitely wasn’t cutting it today—but was afraid they might not let me go home.

And I desperately wanted to come home after two days in a hospital bed. I haven’t slept well at all, and I’m pretty sure it’s not because of the quality of the bed. Someone had to be home with the puppies, so I made Hog go home at night, but to be honest, he doesn’t look like he’s had a lot of sleep either.

“I’m not sure if you’re up to it,” he says, after making sure I was comfortable with the ottoman under my feet. “But Landon wanted to come by this afternoon. He was very upset, so I told him okay; but I can always change that.”

More evidence of how much Hog cares about me; he was at the salon yesterday morning helping my staff deal with yet more cancellations and disgruntled customers.

In absolute record time, Hog has managed to become almost indispensable in my life. Since childhood, I don’t think I’ve relied on anyone else as heavily as I do on him. There have been a few times—especially over the last couple of days—where I’ve wondered what it is I offer him in return.

But I don’t doubt he loves me. He may not remind me in words, but I see it in everything he does.

“No, that’s fine. Did he say what time?”

“I told him after lunch.”

I glance over at the clock on the stove. It’s almost noon now, and I know Bill Evans mentioned he’d be dropping in as well.

He came by the hospital yesterday morning to question me, which wasn’t fun for me. Recounting the ordeal, reciting Monique’s words, and reliving every minute was torturous, but also a bit cathartic. I guess the more you talk about it, the less of a hold you let it have on you.

Still, I have plenty of new material for the nightmares keeping me up at night.

Especially after Evans mentioned some of the things he discovered in Monique’s mobile home. For instance, she had a file with copies of every single item in my purse; my bank and credit cards, my driver’s license, any receipts, appointment cards I kept, and even a copy of my car insurance. She had copies of my family pictures on her phone, had my parents and brother listed in her contacts, and kept a disturbingly detailed calendar of a lot of my day-to-day activities going back years.

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact I had no idea she was this fixated on me.

Evans mentioned he hadn’t questioned Monique yet, because he wanted to search her house and talk to me first. He felt he needed a clearer picture of who he was dealing with before interviewing her yesterday afternoon. I’m very curious to find out what, if anything, she shared with him.

I listen to Hog talking to the dogs as he fills their bowls with kibble. When I glance over my shoulder, I see him smiling down at them as they dig in. The boys have no manners, scarfing down their food and doing it grunting, snorting, and slobbering.

“They sound like your pigs,” I tell Hog, who glances up at me.

“I know. Are you hungry?”

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