Page 11 of Saved By Two

“How long has this been going on, Jessica? Does your brother know?” I mean, it's a daft fucking question; if Mason did, the son of a bitch would already be dead.

She trembles as I slide my hand along her jaw and cup her cheek.

“No, I haven’t been able to get a hold of him, and honestly, unless he was in front of me, I’m not sure I would have the courage to tell him. He’s not been answering his phone or returning my calls. It’s why I came here, not only because I had nowhere else to go, but because I’m worried about him,” she admits.

I’ll have to speak to Caleb to see what he can find out and ask some of our contacts if they can track his last known whereabouts. He’s gone off the grid before, so maybe it's nothing to worry about, but better to be safe than sorry.

“I’ll be out of your hair just as soon as I plan my next move. I just need a few days.”

Frowning, I take in her forlorn expression. “Hey, I don’t want you worrying about that now.”

She goes to reply, but whatever retort I know was on the tip of her tongue turns into a low hiss.

“Let’s get those painkillers. When was the last time you ate?”

Her skin takes on an even paler complexion. “Hmm, yesterday maybe, I think, but I’m not hungry.”

I reach for the pill bottle and scan the label.

“I know, sweet girl, but these need to be taken with food.”

It’s hard not to miss the roll of her throat as she swallows. It wouldn’t surprise me if she felt nauseous.

“Just enough to take these. Do you think you can maybe try some soup?”

Nodding softly, she says, “Yeah, I’ll try.”

Caleb returns and walks in, holding a tray in his hands. “Did someone say soup?” And that right there is why I love this man. “Chicken noodle okay? I figured it's not too heavy, just enough to line your stomach.”

I smile and give Jessica a wink.

“Perfect timing, let’s get you sitting up.”

Jessica shuffles upwards, and I position pillows against the headboard until she’s semi-comfortable. Caleb places the tray over her lap with a small bowl of chicken noodle soup, some bread, and a bottle of water.

“Do you need any help?” I ask.

“No, it’s fine, thank you.”

Her nose twitches, and she sniffs back tears.

“It’s just soup from a can, don’t go getting your hopes up,” Caleb says.

She picks up the spoon, her hand shaking as she brings it to her mouth. It spills before making it past her lips.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” She starts fussing about with the napkin as she tries to soak up the spill from the tray.

Caleb covers her hand, stopping her movements. “It’s fine, Jessica.” He picks up the spoon and scoops some soup before holding it to her mouth. Her lips part, and he takes his time feeding her until he’s satisfied she’s eaten her fill, and then she washes down the pain meds with some water before resting against the headboard.

“We’ll let you rest. We’re just down the end of the hall if you need anything,” I say and reach for the tray.

She licks her lips, and I wonder if she wants some lip balm—they’re dry and cracked, and her upper lip is split.

“Thank you.”

We head for the door, and Caleb reaches for the main light.

“Please, can you leave the light on?”

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