Page 70 of Even if You Fall

“Yeah, see, I’m nothing like that psychopath,” he gritted out. “If you fall, you’re falling for something real.”

Shock slammed into me so forcefully that I just stared at Adam for long moments before reality came rushing up to meet me. My head shook wildly as I remembered every word and look from him so far—all things that negated what he’d just implied.

Pushing him away, I turned to leave, a denial already on the tip of my tongue, only for it to bleed into a weak whimper as the world spun faster than before.

A muffled curse sounded at the same moment my knees gave out. But just as I began falling, strong arms grabbed me, curling under me and cradling me close as I was rushed down the hall.

“Talk to me, Bubbles,” Adam said, his voice soft and close, as if he had his lips near my ear. “Tell me everything.”

“I’m fine,” I tried telling him, swatting weakly at him. When he gently laid me on his bed, I forced a laugh as if this was all ridiculous. “Oh my gosh, I’m?—”

“Chloe, stop,” he begged, then gently gripped my face and forced me to look at him. “You dizzy?” When I didn’t answer, his jaw twitched, but he nodded to himself. “How about your breathing? Can you breathe normally?”

Even if I’d been able to breathe normally before, I wouldn’t have been able to then. Not when he was kneeling on the bed, curled over my body, and making me look at him so we were as close as we’d been the night before.

Lips a breath apart.

“Chloe,” he ground out, but the frustration was laced with worry.

And to my horror, I found myself answering, “No.” As soon as I realized the slip, I hurried to put every mask back into place and stammered, “I-I mean, no. I’m fine. I meant I’m okay.”

His brow furrowed as he studied me. “Why do you do that?” he asked, clearly not believing me. Before I could answer, his thumb lazily brushed against my cheek. “What else are you feeling?”

I grit my teeth because I knew he wouldn’t let this go, but I needed him to. “Please...”

“What I gave you when we got here yesterday...did you drink it?” Something on my face must’ve given me away because he asked, “Why didn’t you?”

“Becauseyoumade it,” I shot back defensively.

Stunned frustration stole across his handsome face. “And? What, did you think I was drugging you?”

“No, I—” Shame washed through me as I wondered if a part of me had. When Adam sat back, I hurried to explain, “I just know how it feels to look back on those times with Owen—like I wasn’t in control of my thoughts and actions. And I panicked because I’m afraid of feeling that way again.”

Adam stared at me for so long, his expression filled with sorrow and understanding and making my heart wrench. “I was trying to preventthis,” he muttered as he carefully climbed off the bed, gesturing to me as he did. “Altitude sickness—that’s what’s going on.”

The wrenching of my chest turned painful when he began leaving. “Adam?—”

He held up a hand and slowed to a stop, staring straight ahead before turning back to me. “I get it. I don’t trust you, you don’t trust me. Right?” When I started trying to explain, he nodded toward me. “You need to rest. I’ll be back.”

I didn’t understand the crushed feeling in my chest and twisting in my stomach when he left, neither having anything to do with thissicknesshe’d spoken of. I didn’t understand how I could feel that awful over potentially hurting a man I’d been convinced hated me not even an hour before. I didn’t understand this worry that I’d caused irreparable damage between Adam and me, when there wasn’t even anAdam and me.

Right?

Iwas sitting cross-legged on top of the comforter, heels forgotten on the floor, when Adam came back about ten minutes later, carrying a glass of tinted liquid and a smoothie.

“I—” I began, only to hesitate because I didn’t want to make things worse. “I really don’t think I can drink that.”

His head bobbed. “I know, but you need to. If you weren’t nauseous,” he continued on a sigh, then made a face as if to say he now knew I was, “you could eat whatever you wanted. But there’s stuff in here that’ll help speed up the process of you feeling better. Berries. Greens,” he added as an afterthought.

I watched as he set the glasses on the bedside table, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed. His eyes never strayed toward me and failed to mask his hurt.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” I whispered when he stepped back, but he just continued as if I hadn’t spoken.

“The water has the same powder I put in your drink yesterday,” he informed me. “If you would’ve just asked, I would’ve told you. I would’veshownyou.” He tossed something at me, and I briefly glanced at therapid rehydration and electrolyte powderwording on the unused packet as hecontinued. “We used them whenever we had missions that dropped us in places with high altitudes.”

I nodded and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

He started walking away, toward the door, only to stop and ask, “What would I gain from drugging you?”

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