Page 15 of Unwanted

I glance from her to Frankie, who’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and just starting to take notice of his surroundings.

She throws the bottle of water at me, and it lands hard in the middle of my stomach. She winks and bolts back inside the hospital without a second glance, and all I want to do is scream after her.

I can’t do this.

I consider running. For a split second, I consider leaving the bottle of water on the sidewalk and bolting to my car.

This isexactlywhat I wanted to avoid.

Holding the water, I stiffly turn my whole body to face him. Hoping for the best but expecting the worst, I’m not surprised to see him standing there and staring at me.

It’s what I secretly wanted, isn’t it?

Except his eyes don’t hold the anger, the hurt, the guilt, or the pity I expected.

He just continues to stare at me, his hazel-colored eyes full of longing.

Full of yearning.

Full of desire.

For me.

It hits me harder and cuts me deeper than any indifference and disappointment ever could. Because he’s looking at me the way he always has.

Like time hasn’t passed.

Like nothing has changed.

Like he needs me.

Like helovesme.

5

FRANKIE

“Ineed you to take me to the place I’m staying.”

Of all the things I thought I would say when I saw Arlo for the first time in four years, the words that just left my mouth weren’t it.

“I need to get out of here. It’s only a few blocks away. I can’t remember the exact address,” I ramble, needing the last four years to disappear and for my best friend to be my best friend when I need him most. I wipe at my mouth again and try to will myself not to throw up again. “Can you do that for me?”

Flustered, he wordlessly hands me the bottle of water I assume he retrieved from Clem and I grab it off him. I try not to focus on how much he’s changed as I unscrew the lid and raise the bottle to my lips and drink with desperation.

The first thing to catch me off guard is how healthy he looks. He’s grown out his hair, and it sits haphazardly in an elastic band on the top of his head, and his chocolate-brown eyes are no longer wide and sunken in their sockets.

Gone is the young, broken man who was only flesh and bones, his tanned skin now effortlessly stretched over his well-proportioned dips and muscles and curves.

I used to think he was the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on, but now? Here and healthy, the transformation is blinding.

My eyes dance over his facial features, taking in his apprehensive expression, as the cool liquid washes down the bile and the burn that sits at the back of my throat.

But unfortunately it’s not enough to get rid of the ghost of the rancid taste Lennox’s doctor’s words left in my mouth, the acidic remnants creeping back up my throat. It reminds me why I ran out of the hospital in the first place. “Please, Arlo, I have to get out of here.”

The use of his name seems to pull him out of the shocked trance my presence has put him in and he nods, but I don’t miss the reluctance.

“Okay,” he breathes out. “How about I go get Clem or Remy, if he’s inside?”

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