Page 191 of Bad Blood

He continues without skipping a beat, “—let us. You can fool others for a while. You can even fool yourself, but”—he leans forward, his elbows on the tabletop, looking me directly in the eye, and whispers—“if he’s our guy, what makes you think this won’t happen again? He could show up at your house or find you outside of work. I can’t keep an eye on you everywhere. Besides, we can’t keep him in jail forever. Once bail is set, he can be out within twenty-four hours. What then?”

I glare at Hudson through tear-stained lashes and wipe my hands across my cheeks, flinching when my hand comes in contact with where Kline was gripping my chin. I sense the pressure of Kline’s hands. His rage. His hatred. I remember his words. But I can’t wrap my head around their meaning. I don’t understand any of it.

Lauren takes this as the time to insert, “I’m just gonna . . . I’ll be at the nurses’ station. I need to make sure Dax has his prescription.”

“Wait, I’m coming too.” I stand, knocking the chair into the table. “We’re done here.”

“We need a statement from your boyfriend,” Hudson hollers after us.

“I’ll give him your card.”

A few minutes pass, and I steady myself against the counter, standing beside Lauren at the nurses’ station as she informs Dax of precautions he needs to take after a dislocation and hands him a prescription.

“Can we give you a ride home?” Dax’s voice draws me out of my thoughts.

“I don’t think you’re in shape to drive.” I smile at him, wincing from the pain, and poke his swollen fingers.

“Semantics.” He readjusts the sling strap on his neck.

“I’ll drive. Let me grab my purse.” I take a couple of steps toward the hallway, stopping at the thought of what took place and how it got out of control.

“Liam’s waiting downstairs.”

“I need to talk to HR and give a statement, see if they got the footage. It all happened so fast; I don’t remember the details.”

“Can I come by to check on you later?” He brushes a hair out of my face, rubbing his thumb across my jaw. When I wince, he leans in. “I’m sorry.”

“That would be perf—” His lower lip grazes against mine, a silent confirmation that he’s glad I’m okay. I lean in, not caring what anybody thinks, when Hudson’s voice interrupts us.

“What do you mean there’s not enough?” He storms out of the hallway with his phone pressed to his ear and marches toward the elevator.

“What if I swing by and pick you up here when you’re done?” Dax and I share a worried look.

“I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s no big deal. I have paperwork and need to finish my clinic. Nine?”

Dax squeezes my hand and takes his time before joining Hudson near the elevators but stays a few feet back. He tosses an uneasy look over his shoulder, and I smile, trying to put his worry at ease.

Hudson jams a finger into the call button and stalks back and forth as he waits for the elevator to arrive, not noticing Dax is behind him. Hudson’s mouth continues moving, but I can’t make out the rest of his conversation. Seconds later, not able to take my eyes off him, I wince when he pounds an angry fist against the switchboard.

This doesn’t look good.

54

Pipe Dreams

Brighton

Monday, June 12 th

8:57 p.m.

Today is a day I will never forget.

But I wish there was a delete button. To delete people. Memories. And feelings. A way to get rid of all the bad that keeps replaying in my mind.

I hang my head, plunging my hands under the running faucet of my kitchen sink before splashing the water over my face. The droplets run down my cheeks as I stare at my reflection in the window above the sink. One day, I’m going to look back on all of this and see it as the silver lining that put an end to a series of awful events. But today is not that day. And tomorrow probably isn’t, either.

The distorted haze of my face mirrors the hollow feeling in my chest, and I tongue the inside of my cheek. I still can’t wrap my head around why Kline attacked me. I pull out my lip to assess the damage from where my teeth cut into it as tears well up in my bloodshot eyes; I have to fight the urge to cry and my simultaneous need to scream.

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