Page 79 of Taming Achilles

“Twice, they have been,” he said, with a slight nod.

“I beg to differ. The last time was because you knocked me to the ground and gave me a concussion.” I tried to smile, but he didn’t return it. “That was your fault.”

He got up from the plastic hospital seat that was entirely too small to contain him, and strode to me. He leaned down, his hand on either side of my head as he looked down at me.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked again.

“Tell you what?”

“Damn it, Pip!” He struck the bed beside my head. I heard the beeping machines increase their pace as my heart leapt. “Just answer the fucking question!”

He stood up straight and walked away, his hands going to his temples as he turned his back to me. With a calmer voice, he said over his shoulder, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this? MI6, the Sideshow, your father … Why am I only now understanding what’s happened to us for the last twenty years?”

The last question broke his resolve to sound calm, as he succumbed to that famous Scottish temper.

“Please!” The door swung open and a pink scrubbed nurse walked in, a clip board over her voluminous chest. “This is a hospital. Please keep your voices down.”

“Aye, sorry, Lindsey.” Geordie raised his hands in a mea culpa gesture. “We’re just having an animated heart to heart. Me and Pippa here.”

Lindsey folded immediately, a small smile crossing her glossed lips. Of course, she’d succumb to him.

“That’s okay, George.” She winked at him. “You be a good boy.”

I rolled my eyes at “Lindsey” and wrinkled my nose. Cunt. Maybe I should throw her out of the building. Drench her pink scrubs in strychnine. Yeah. That’d be the right way to go.

Strychnine poisoning causes extreme nervousness, anxiety, then tremors, seizures and a painful death. I’d be able to do that even in my weakened state.

Maybe after I was done with her, I could do the same to Simona, and that Detective Delgado. Do it to enough women, and Geo would get a reputation for driving women insane with his cock - and not in a good way. Maybe that would teach them all to stay away.

“If you’re done contemplating murder,” Geo was by the bed, his arms crossed in front of him. “You owe me an answer.”

“An answer to what?” I played dumb.

“Pippa …” he growled.

“It was none of your business,” I cut in, before that temper got him again.

“How was it none of my business?” He lost his temper again before he brought his fist to his mouth and took in a calming breath. “This has affected the last twenty years, and you think it was none of my business?”

Pain was in my chest. A different kind. Like pressure from the inside, wanting to punch out from my ribs and break.

“Geo …” I shook my head, my voice suddenly weak. I didn’t want to talk about this now. “I couldn’t tell you.”

He put his hands on his hips and stared at me, hurt in his eyes. He sadly shook his head before he paced the small room.

“We were friends, Pip. Did you forget about that?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t love you just like a lover, Pip.” Despair was all over his voice. “I loved you like my right arm. Like a part of my body.” His hand came to his face, his eyes shut. “And you cut yourself off, and I …” He moved his hand away from his face and stared at it, as if surprised it was still attached. “And I learned to live without my right hand. My friend. The person who knew me inside and out.”

He turned away from me, his hands on his hips. He paced away slowly, and I wanted to run to him, to grab him and beg him to look at me with love again.

“But you trusted Callum before me.” He let out an angry scoff. “And that’s fine, Pip. When you were engaged, there was some salve in knowing it was with him and he’d be good to you.” He ran his hands up to his hair. “But now it’s like the phantom pain is there, and I want to rip my skin off, just to make it stop.”

He paced again, his hands running through his brown hair. He was speaking to himself, letting out thoughts he must have held in for so long. And I was silent, lying on the bed, unable to sit up. Unable to grab him and kiss him. Unable to soothe him in a language that he could understand - with touch.

“What was I thinking?” He chastised himself. “What in the bloody hell was I dreaming about? You were never going to tell me. Why?”

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