Page 123 of Fake Game

Without ever speaking to us, the man leaves. The room rests in silence as we turn to Phoebe.

She walks calmly back through the room, her designer heels clicking across the floor as she makes her way to Deer’s bed. She perches on the edge of the mattress and reaches a hand out, picking up a lock of Deer’s pink hair and studying it thoughtfully as she runs it through her fingers.

“Seems like someone is gunning for you, little one.”

THIRTY-THREE

DEER

Someone is using my brain as a gong, hitting it over and over so the pain reverberates through my entire skull, bouncing off the bone and turning everything inside to mush.

Using all the energy I can muster, I force my eyes to open.

Why is everything blurry?

I frown, trying to make sense of my surroundings. It’s pretty dim. I can gauge what seem like two lamps lighting up the darkness.

When I shift my arm, a heavy weight in my hand stops me. Squinting, I make out Jackson’s palm gripping mine as he hunches over, asleep by my knees. I don’t recognize these bed sheets. I continue tracing a path up my body, clocking an IV poking out of my elbow before catching the light blue gown that covers me.

A hospital?

Why am I at the hospital?

My brain is all foggy. I don’t remember anything to do with the hospital.

Why can’t I remember?

The monitor next to me starts beeping faster.

“Deer? Are you awake?”

“Parker?” I can’t keep the panic out of my voice.

I look toward the voice, but I can’t fucking see anything but blurry shapes. I could see earlier. What happened to my contacts? Oh my Gods. My eyes. They can all see my eyes.

I pull out of Jackson’s hold, gripping my head. My breathing comes faster. I don’t even know who is in this room. I can’t see them. I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all. It doesn’t feel safe. I’m not safe.

“Deer,” Jackson’s gravelly voice blasts through the ringing in my mind.

But I can’t stop the panic that is causing my lungs to constrict.

His strong hands grip my face, and he brings himself into focus. His black eyes are bloodshot, and for the first time, I can read his emotions clear as day. Worry and relief twine together, rippling over his features. Jackson’s thumbs rub over my cheeks affectionately, the motion centering me.

My hands drop, releasing their grip on my hair, as I automatically reach out for him.

The bed dips with his weight as he settles next to me and pulls me gently into a hug. I might not understand anything that is going on, but I do understand him. I know that Jackson is safety. As long as he is here, it can’t be that bad.

“Shh, I’ve got you.”

My face is wet with tears that don’t make any sense.

“I’ve got you. I’m so sorry.”

I shove my face farther into the crook of his neck, letting his scent drown out the antiseptic smell of the room.

My breathing starts to even out, and I relax into his body.

“I heard the patient is awake?”

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