Page 39 of Chase

“Please, Trouble.” She stills, then picks up the handset from its casing on the bed and presses buttons. The back lifts, sitting me up more, and she plumps the pillows around me then moves to my broken leg, ensuring it’s elevated a fraction.

“Are you in any pain?” she asks, continuing to poke and prod at the bedding.

“A little.”

“It's not a surprise,” she whispers. “You gave us all a fright.” She looks up, and all I can see in those beautiful eyes I’ve been lost in for weeks is pain. When I examine her more closely, it’s clear she’s exhausted with smudges beneath her eyes. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes, most of it. I fucked up, I’m sorry,” I say, surprising both myself and her.

“We’ve both fucked up. This, whatever it is, has been wrong, and it was unforgivable for us to not tell him.” She picks up a jug of water sitting on my bedside table, then pours a small glass before handing it to me. “Drink.”

I lift the glass to my lips and take a sip. The water is refreshing on my dry tongue. I go to take another, and Samantha pinches the glass from my fingers.

“Slow, small sips,” she advises firmly.

“I’m surprised you’re willing to talk to me.”

“I work here, I don’t have a choice,” she says. “Dr. Rivera has assigned you as one of my patients. So if you need anything, press the bell.” She signals to the small button with the image of a nurse on it attached to my bed. For a few minutes, she moves around the room, arranging and rearranging small items.

“You’re stalling.”

She pauses on my accusation, then walks back to the bed and sits on the chair beside me. “Why?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“Why what? That’s an open, ambiguous question. If you want an answer from me then you’ll need to be more specific.”

“Why me? Why scale the side of a building? Why is your spare room covered in my photos?” I blink at her, stunned by her knowledge of the archive in my home. She cocks her head to the side, and her eyes narrow. The uncertain atmosphere of earlier changes to a more intense one. “I asked you to stop back in January, and you didn’t. I need to know what your end game was.”

“I didn’t have one, “ I answer honestly. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I didn’t know how to handle it.”

“You don’t know me,” she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. A sigh escapes her lips as she leans back in the chair and closes her eyes for a moment.

“But I want to.” It strikes me as odd she hasn’t mentioned Connor; they were together when this whole fiasco started. “Is my brother coming to visit?”

She reopens her eyes and focuses on me, her expression turning morbid. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve not spoken to him since he asked me to leave last night.” Her truth sits between us, and uneasiness flutters over my skin. Tired eyes fill with tears. She places her elbows on her knees, drops her head into her hands, and sobs.

“Trouble,” I whisper, panicked by her emotion. Her tears run freely onto her fingers, seeping through the gaps between them. I try to reach for her hand, but she’s out of my grasp. Watching her hurt is the most painful situation I’ve ever witnessed. Knowing I caused the pain is unbearable. “Tell me what he said.”

“It doesn’t matter, it’s over. I ruined it. We were both happy, and because of me and my stupidity, we won’t get to explore where things would have gone.”

The unfamiliar sensation of guilt which had been creeping up on me slaps me square in the face. I look at this beautiful woman who made my brother happy and realize that my selfish actions have ruined what could have been for them.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper almost under my breath, and her eyes rise to meet mine. “You were mesmerizing the first moment I met you, and I couldn’t let you go. Watching you seemed the solution to my jealousy. I hate what you have with him, but I also love seeing my brother happy.” We stare at one another for a few minutes. The insanity of these past months is all running at full speed through my head.

“What do you want from me?” she says.

“Your attention.” The words are pathetic said out loud, but they are sadly true. “Most women would run a mile if a man followed them or watched them have sex.”

She swallows as her cheeks flush. Her eyes move around the room, looking everywhere but at me. She takes a deep breath as if steeling herself to speak. “I care about Connor, this isn’t fair on him. No matter how excited or flattered I was that you wanted me, I should have put my relationship with him first, and now, I don’t know if I can fix it.” She sighs softly as her tears start once more. “He won't even return my calls.”

“Because I was coming to speak to both of you,” Connor's voice says unexpectedly from the doorway. I gape at him as he walks across the room then leans down to hug me.

“I hate you, you fucking bastard,” he says as he embraces me. I wrap my hands around his back as we hold one another in the way we have since we were kids whenever we survived a dangerous situation. “But I’m relieved you’re alive.”

“You won’t be for much longer,” I mutter, and he pulls back scowling. “You threw me off a fucking balcony.”

“No, I deflected your foot as you tried to kick me, and you’re such a weakling you couldn’t hold on.”

“It was attempted murder,” I continue to jibe. “Maybe I’ll get McKinney to arrest you.”

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