Page 33 of Vows of Betrayal

“Thank you, crappy little car!” I shouted and signaled back into traffic.

Well, at least the car stopped my crying fit. And I was almost home. One step closer to a warm bath and a bowl of cereal. I was too tired to make anything else.

Well, I didn't have anything else. Payday wasn't until Friday. So, it would be cereal until then.

I parked around the back of the butcher shop and gathered my stuff together.

But before I opened my door, I heard, “A little help back here, please?” And I screamed and turned around so fast I thought I was about to be murdered.

There was Stefan. Laying on my back seat. “What are you doing here?”

He grabbed his chest. “Bleeding, I think. Can you help me up? I don't think I can do it on my own,” he groaned, a pained expression on his sweaty face.

“No, I'm not helping you. I'm taking you back to the hospital. Or to Giselle's or Eve's.”

He shook his head. “Giselle and Carlo live an hour out of the city. Your piece of shit car won't make it that far.”

I rolled my eyes. “Then I'll take you back to the hospital to get checked out.” I turned around, my hands shaking. That idiot had scared the crap out of me. I took a deep breath and started the car.

Or at least I tried to start it. But the brown crappy car had other ideas. It was done for the day, apparently.

“Chesca, please,” Stefan breathed out. “I don't want to be around my fucking family. I want peace and quiet. And you.”

A small thrill zinged through me at his words. But a large part of me thought he only wanted someone to take care of him.

“I'll call Eve. Does she live in the city?” I tried grasping for other options because Stefan living at my place was not going to happen.

Not now.

Not ever.

“She and Nick and the kids are at Giselle and Carlo's for now. I don't know how long they're staying. So, no. You're not fucking calling Eve. Or Giselle. You're taking me to your place. Stop stalling, Chesca. I'm in fuckin' pain back here.”

We argued back and forth for a few more minutes, but it was apparent—short of military force—Stefan refused any other help than me.

“Fine! Mr. Stubborn gets his way. Again.” I got out to help the bossiest person I'd ever met in my life.

“Slide down,” I told him once I opened the back door.

He lifted his head. “I can't. It hurts too much. You need to help me,” he grunted and laid back.

“Geez, Louise,” I muttered and maneuvered in over him.

Suddenly, his arms clamped around me. His hand grasped the back of my head, holding my face close to his. “You can’t be pissed, Chesca.” Then his lips touched mine.

But I was not having it. I moved back as much as he'd allow. Which wasn't that far. He was strong for a guy who couldn't sit up on his own. “Yeah, I can.”

He shook his head. “I'm getting better every day. Look after me for a little while longer.” He pulled my head closer, kissing me again. “And then I'll look after you forever.”

My body stilled at what he'd just insinuated.

No.

Not insinuated.

What he'd said.

Stefan took that opportunity to kiss me—really kiss me.

---