Page 143 of House of Lies

“Where is she?” I roar, ignoring the way the room spins on its axis like my bed is on a merry-go-round.

“Christ, calm down!” Smith grabs my shoulders, trying to shove me back onto the bed. Troy appears, takes one look at me, and rushes over to help Smith subdue me.

They get as far as forcing me to sit on the side of the bed. I’d have shoved past them if it hadn’t been for the sudden wave of nausea tackling me.

“Where is she?”

Smith releases me, straightening. “I’ll tell you, but only if you promise you won’t go charging out of here like a rampaging barbarian.”

“She’s in the guest room,” Troy says.

“Really?” Smith snaps, glaring at him, but I’m already on my feet and pushing them aside.

“You’re being dramatic. He’ll be fine.”

“Dramatic? He can barely fucking stand. You’re getting him back into bed if he falls.”

Troy grabs my elbow, and I consider shaking him off, but the ground isn’t as steady as I remember. I lean some of my weight on Troy as I make a beeline for the guest room down the hall.

There’s no heart monitor in this room.

Just a girl lying on her side on the bed, back turned to the door. Troy eases out of my grip and steps back, closing the door softly behind me.

I walk over to the bed, wincing as it creaks faintly under my weight.

Cassidy stirs, and slowly rolls onto her back, staring at me with narrowed eyes as she swipes sleepily at her face. When she recognizes me, her eyes widen, and she scrambles over the bed to me with a squeal of delight, grimacing half-way to clap a hand over her shoulder.

There’s a band-aid above one eye. A bandage around her thigh. And I assume another dressing under her shirt where Angelo stabbed her.

But besides those injuries and a handful of scrapes and bruises, she’s perfect.

I wrap my arms around her, burrowing my face into her hair. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” I murmur, holding her so tight I can feel her heart pounding against my chest.

I expect some kind of reply, but she’s silent.

Then she starts shaking, and I realize she’s crying.

“Hey, it’s okay.” I lean back, cupping her face in my hands, smoothing away the tears as they stream down her cheeks. “I’m here, baby, I’m here.”

She tries to shake her head, lips trembling until she presses them into a line. “They said you’d wake up, but after everything that happened…” She swallows loudly, and falls against my chest, gripping on tightly. “Thank God. Thank fucking God.”

I climb on the bed, drawing her into my lap and cradling her as tightly as I dare, being careful of the wound on her shoulder. She cries until I start rocking her, and then her tears slowly dry up.

There’s a part of me that wishes this moment will never end. But I don’t deserve to let this happiness go on a second longer.

I grasp her neck, drawing her away from me so I can look into her eyes. They’re red rimmed from the tears, her cheeks still stained, but she dredges up a smile that makes me want to fucking die.

When I look away, she cups my cheek. “What’s wrong?”

I have to work saliva back into my mouth before I can speak. “You should leave.”

“Wh—what?”

“I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve you.” Having her still holding onto me is making this impossible, so I slip her off my lap so I can stand.

She grabs my arm and tries to hold me down. When that doesn’t work, she jumps off the bed and rushes to stand in front of me, blocking me.

I turn my head, but she grabs my face and forces me to look at her. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

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