Page 24 of Ride With Me

I wrinkle my nose. “I’m more of a white wine person.”

“White wine it is.” His lips widen and he tosses the gloves on his way out, leaving me alone with my confusing thoughts. After joining him in the kitchen fully dressed, he fulfills his promise of running me a bath. I soak for an hour, sinking low into the large tub. The water feels amazing on my muscles, and I close my eyes, imagining I’m at some fancy hotel and I met Sam under different circumstances—at the pool or bar downstairs, and he came up to my room for a nightcap but it led to more. Here I am now, in his bathtub, waiting for him to join me and touch me because hewants to. Not because we’re pretending I’m sick and need testing or treatment.

Maybe I am if I’m fantasizing about the man who’s blackmailing me. No matter what he’s doing, he’s still not the worst one here. He gave me options. He had the choice to call the cops and do worse but didn’t. It was nothing but a little innocent compromise. Wasn’t it? Lifting my head from the water, I blow bubbles and fold my knees. I don’t stop soaking until he calls me down to eat, and we have steak. I didn’t have to wait until this is all over, after all.

Neither of us talk much while we eat, and he makes sure I’m drinking enough water the whole time, setting two painkillers next to my plate. “For the pain and to help you sleep better. New places can be hard sometimes. I’ll go set your room up while you finish.”

“You sure you want to leave me up here by myself?”

He strokes my forehead. “You’re feeling a little warm. The Tylenol PM should help for that too. And there really is nowhere for you to go. I doubt you want a repeat of yesterday.” He lowers his eyes at me. “When you’re done, rinse your dishes and place them in the dishwasher.”

He leaves after that, not looking back or saying another word, and I’m feeling too tongue tied to respond. He’s right. If he found me the first time, he can do it again. I was walking for hours too. Did he really come from work, or had he been looking for me that whole time? Either way, he didn’t pick me up by chance and I knew that as soon as he said there was no La Quinta. The chills from then are back when I think of running, and of him always being the one to pick me up and bring me back here.

Doubt I’m worth all that trouble, but I want to believe it’s what would happen anyway. That I’m trapped here. I don’t know when I’ll be ready for him to be that good guy again, but thattime hasn’t come yet. He’s a bad guy. He’ll hurt me soon. I’ll never leave here and will always be his patient. There are no clocks in the house and it’s always dark in the basement. I might not always have a sense of time, and I’ll be here for one month while assuming it’s only been a week.

All these twisted and ominous thoughts make me want to weep and smile at the same time.

CHAPTER 6

RILEY

Three days goby and there really was a guest bed all this time. I’ve slept comfortably in it in between appointments. They were basic follow ups on my finger where he rebandaged my wound. While asleep last night, I fell off the bed, bumping my head, with no recollection of it happening and waking up on the floor in pain.

He treats me for that too, monitoring me throughout the day and checking for nausea or dizziness, and leads me to the room after dinner when my small cut randomly starts bleeding. “How’s the head?” he asks, shining a light in my eyes while running a warm towel over my skin.

“Not too bad. A little throbby but I’m also tired.”

“I’ll be quick. I just want to take proper precautions. Now’s the best time to retake that temperature. Lean over the table and unbutton your pants.”

I do it without questioning him, stretching my arms out. He tugs down my pants to lube my hole. The thermometer slowly goes in, and he teases my sensitive areas with it before holding it still. It’s the longest minute of my life. A loud beep sounds around us and he pulls away, coming back to wipe my hole clean, reaching every crevice in slow strokes.

My temperature is normal and he bandages my head, handing me two Ibuprofen before we leave the room. We stick to the usual schedule that I’ve become accustomed to—eating dinner together, showering separately, and him tucking me into bed. Our time together is ending soon, and at first I was looking forward to it, worried I’d be stuck here forever, but now I’m scared for an entirely different reason. I hit my head way harder than I thought.

“You talkand fight in your sleep a lot,” a deep, silky voice startles me awake. Sam sits in a chair in the corner of the room with his ankles crossed and elbows resting on his knees.

Sitting up in bed, I clutch onto the covers. “How long have you been there?”

“Only the last three hours or so. I was observing your sleeping habits. We can do today’s testing in this bed if you’d prefer?”

Glancing around, I nod, spreading my hands along the full-size mattress. “It’s more comfortable than the table.”

“I’ll change the sheets while you eat your breakfast on the couch. I think you should relax a little before we get started. No TV though, because you’re still on limited screen time with that concussion of yours.”

“What else should I do?”

“Go back to sleep for a little longer after eating. You look tired enough. Doctor’s orders.” A smile spreads across his face and he stands up. “Your waffles are on the fold-out table outside the room. I’ll be upstairs answering important emails. Wash up in the shower in the other room after you’re done eating, and I’ll come back down when I’m ready for our visit.”

“Okay. Can I get some new clothes?”

“I’ll bring you a fresh gown. You won’t need any clothes until later. We have another long day ahead of us.”

“A gown is fine.”

“What are some foods you like? I need to go to the store later.”

My shoulders lift. “I’m not picky. I like most things. Everything you’ve fed me has been great so far.”

“I’ll keep surprising you then.” He walks out the door, leaving it open, and I toss the covers off me. Stretching out my limbs, I stand out of bed and head to where the couch is. My food is waiting for me where he said it was and I eat slowly, savoring every bite. Looking at the TV, I think about how I’ve been allowed to watch all the shows I never could before. I sip my water, hearing Stephen’s voice in my head.

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