Page 92 of Ordinary Secrets

All eyes fall on me. Sick women, irritated grandpas in wheelchairs, families in despair, and a guy holding a wad of red-soaked gauze against his eye. The cloud of depressing emotions forms a migraine in my temples. I just got here, and I already need to leave.

I rush to the front desk, ignoring the long line. “You need to see her right away.”

A plump woman in her fifties glares at me from behind a pair of rectangular glasses. “Sir, you need to get to the back of the line.”

“No. Someone needs to see hernow.”

She glares at me—harder this time. “Is anything broken, bleeding profusely, dying, or on the pain scale of nine or higher?”

“What? No?”

She seizes a clipboard with paperwork already on it, thrusting it toward me. “Fill out this form. Someone will see you shortly.”

I glance down at the sweet girl in my arms. Her face is pale. Her breathing is shallow. She’s not shaking anymore, but that doesn’t change how much I’m fucking losing it. I glance back up at the receptionist. “I need that someonenow.”

“You need to fill out the forms, sir. And get to the back of the line.”

“Fuck. The. Forms! Don’t you see she’s not responding?”

Dramatically, the lady yanks her glasses off and leans on her elbows. “You need to calm down, sir.”

“I can’t calm down. Myheartis on the pain scale of nine or higher. Please! Help her!”

I feel like pulling out all my hair. I probably would if my arms weren’t full of the one and only person who means everything to me. My lungs won’t stop contracting, because I can still hear her screams. I can still feel her crying and trembling against my chest.

“Please,” I beg. “Get someone to take her in.”

The lady sighs, preparing to tell me some scripted rejection when a tan-skinned Indian woman wearing scrubs appears by the double doors. “I’ll take her in.”

Finally!

27

TREY

Doctor’s orders.I’m doing everything she told me to.Take her home. Help her relax. Comfort her. Don’t leave her alone unless she asks to be.No problem.

The whole car ride home, I never let go of Arella’s hand once. Not until I parked in my garage and cut the engine.

Now, she’s in my Jacuzzi. I thought a warm bath might help her relax. Sometimes it does the trick for me. I sit on the edge, gently rubbing a bar of soap up and down her back and around her shoulders.

I’m half expecting Arella to jump up and scream at any moment. The doctor said it’s a common side effect of post-traumatic stress. The moment she explained Arella’s shakiness and unresponsiveness with the wordtrauma, the blood drained from my body.

My chest has been feeling lighter ever since the color has been returning to Arella’s face. Now, I just need to hear that sweet voice of hers tell me she’s okay.

I don’t know if she wants me to kiss her, nor do I ask. I just do it. Not for her. For me. It soothes me to kiss her shoulders, her forehead, and her cheeks. She hasn’t told me not to, so I guess that’s a good sign. I hope it’s as comforting to her as it is to me.

After about twenty minutes, I drain the tub and assist her out of it. Then I dry her off with a towel and dress her in a pair of my boxers and a T-shirt. It takes me a few tries to get all her hair out of the messy ponytail I put it in earlier. Once I do, I kiss her forehead and pull her close.

The feel of her body against mine immediately alleviates the churning in my gut. I’m not sure whyI’mthe one who needs consolation. It’sherwho was attacked by hairy eight-legged monsters.

Where the fuck did they come from? And how were there so many? And so big? I’ll have to do some research later. For now, I just want to focus on making Arella feel safe.

We stand in the middle of my bedroom, holding each other for a while, never saying anything. I don’t know what I could say to make things better. All I know is that after a few minutes, her arms rise to hug me back, and my insides throw a mini party.

“Trey?” She tilts her head back to look at me. The sound of her voice makes me tear up.

“Yeah, baby?”

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