Page 15 of I Still Love You

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see—”

What the hell is she doing back? She’s supposed to be in Texas. Living it up in that hospital Mason forced me into. She’s supposed to be anywhere but here.

The other person she’s with, a guy—who I finally notice for the first time—clears his throat. This hidden urge to step forward and shove him toward the other side of the hall takes root when he lifts a hand to the small of her back. I can’t help but wonder who the hell he is.

She cranes her head back, looking up at me, and I can’t help but think back to when I didn’t resent her or want to run for the hills at the sight of her. As much as my body wants to be near, my mind is the only rational part of me. Hence why it’s the only goddamn thing I listen to. As she blinks those soft blue eyes at me in desperation, I tell myself to stand down, to hold my tongue, and let her steer this ship until I know where we’re headed.

“Luke.” Her eyes widen slightly before darting down, her throat rolling in nervousness as she swallows. Quickly, she shuffles back, inching closer to whoever the fuck this guy is.

Then, out of no-fucking-where, she tiptoes closer and curls her hand into mine. A cool wave of bewilderment runs up my arm, twisting into the muscles at my shoulder and neck. If this guy weren’t standing here, I’d turn to her and ask her what the hell she’s doing.

But I don’t.

I can’t.

There’s no time. Because in the next breath, she’s saying, “Andrew, you remember Luke, don’t you? My boyfriend.”

What the fuck?

Tugging on my arm, she looks wildly between Andrew and me, clearly waiting for me to agree with her sudden outburst—because that’s what this has to be—and say hello. Stilling, my gaze flattens, my lips smashing together in disbelief. I’m…speechless, and annoyed. Really fucking annoyed because who the hell does she think she is? And boyfriend? Last I checked, we were fucking engaged.

“Wow,” Andrew breathes out as he rubs the side of his jaw. There’s recognition in his eyes, but I can’t say it’s in mine. I don’t know who this dude is or why I’m suddenly being roped into whatever this is. “I really thought you were yanking my tail. Weren’t you guys engaged?”

Yanking my tail? Who the fuck says shit like that these days? The excitement I had over my quick break in the day fades, and irritation replaces it. All I wanted was the hot meal in the cafeteria, and I get this instead? Is Ashton Kutcher around the corner? He has to be.

Layla squeezes my hand and fakes her elation over seeing me. “Luke, don’t be rude. Say hi.”

I chance a glimpse at her and slip my lips into my mouth, squinting to get a read on her. Will looking at her deeply give away what she’s playing at here? Fuck, I don’t know.

Silently, she pleads, her eyes widening, then returning to normal. The corner of her lip raises in trepidation, making it hard for me to decipher what’s going on. Does she not want this guy knowing she’s single? Is she trying to make him jealous? What the hell did Andrew say, or worse—do—for her to be bothering me with this shit?

My awareness rises, and my need to protect her takes over. As much as I hate what she did to me, I don’t want to see her falling prey to any man. Plus, I can see the smirk on his face, one I’d like to wipe off if I’m being honest. I also don’t miss the way his eyes languidly glide down her legs and back up, taking no initiative to hide the fact he’s checking her out, even with me standing close by.

Taking note of the giant red flag flapping above his head, I extend an open palm in his direction and do what I shouldn’t—greet him. “Good to meet you, man.”

Firmly, I squeeze his palm in warning, enjoying the tightness of my grip as his knuckles rub with each rattle of my wrist. “Likewise,” he agrees before glancing over his shoulder, pretending as if someone called his name. As quickly as I introduce myself, he disregards me in true asshole fashion, turning his attention back to the blonde hanging off my arm. “Duty calls.” His smirk is conspiratorial but fleeting when he swings back to Layla. “Catch up with you later, Robinson.”

The second he turns on his heel and walks in the opposite direction, I couldn’t be more fucking grateful. His shiny hospital badge might work on the ladies, but I’m made from the same cloth he is and can see right through his shrewd stares. I know what it looks like when a man wants to strip the clothes off a woman and take her to bed, and that’s exactly how he was eyeing Layla. As if she’s someone he wants to bed.

Layla yanks her hand from mine and backs away when he’s out of vision. Pacing in a circle, she peers around the corner of the hall in the direction Andrew left, verifying his departure. Around us, hospital staff come and go. Some with the same takeout container I should be holding. The thought makes me check the time again. Twenty-two minutes until my break is over.

“What the hell was that about?” It’s a hiss of a whisper on my lips when I say it, and she winces when it comes out, confirming she hears the bite in my tone. Stepping closer to the wall so I’m out of the way of others passing by, I pull her over by her arm and zero in on her.

She acts bothered that I’m standing here. The fucking audacity. If she hadn’t told him I was her boyfriend, I’d be claiming my lunch by now. I’d be back in my office, scarfing down lasagna like it’s nobody’s business.

“Listen,” she starts, breathing out. “I appreciate you going along with that, but now that he’s gone, we can forget it happened.”

Forget it happened? Like hell. I lean a shoulder against the wall and take in her exasperation. Her skin lightly glistens under the hospital lighting, and she nibbles her lip, a telltale sign she’s nervous. My gaze shifts over her head. I want to know if he did or said something that was out of line but asking will only make it sound like I care. And I don’t. I can’t.

Instead, I settle on why she’s here instead of Texas. “Why are you in Quaint?” I demand, my brow arching with interest. “I thought you were in Texas.”

She faces me fully, her eyes steeling against mine. “Why do you care? You made it abundantly clear in Texas that you don’t.”

“You just told that guy I’m your boyfriend, and I played along. The least you can do is answer the damn question, Layla. Why are you here?”

She clears her throat. “I work here now.”

That’s laughable. There are forty-nine other states she could work in. So, she must be joking.

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