Page 29 of In You
I haven't had my mouth between a woman's legs in so long that I'm almost afraid for the next woman I get my hands on. I tilt my head, wondering why I'm kidding myself. Ithasto be her. Because the alternative means I kill her. I can't bring a woman here with Tamryn held captive, that's fucking crazy thinking.
"Oh goodness, this is delicious, Caleb," she says, attacking her food with more vigor.
Knowing hardly nothing of her situation except the fact that I saved her from Calvin, and the few things I’d gleaned, my mind begins to race with the desire to want to learn more about her. But until I'm able to, I'll watch, and learn her mannerisms.
Though it's quiet, I'm oddly relaxed in her company. I sit back in my seat as we make our way through our meal silently, and just watch her enjoying the fuck out of her food. The last meal I'd shared with a woman was my sister. Two years ago right before she died.
I've missed this, sharing a meal with another person.
Every now and again Tamryn's eyes will flick to mine, and she'll stop chewing when I grab a knife to cut my food. However for the most part, she keeps her eyes on her plate as she eats, not exactly surprising after the amount of abuse she'd been through, and the reasons as to why she's here to begin with instead of recovering at a hospital. The responsibility to rehabilitate her weighs heavily on me. I have to heal her, to get her through whatever is happening.
I can maybe handle a Tamryn, or even a Camilla, but I have no fucking clue how to handle the both of them fighting for dominance over her spirit.
My eyes roam the little table, seeing I've neglected getting either of us something to drink with our meal. "I'm going to get you a glass of water," I say, getting up and grabbing two glasses and the pitcher of water off the counter.
Standing on my side of the table, I set her cup down in front of her, and as I'm pouring, I watch incredulously as she leans over her plate and then spits the half chewed pork out of her mouth and gags.
"Oh my God!"she gasps, spitting again and getting a disgusted look on her face. Her eyes snap to mine, looking betrayed."You fed me swine?"
I'm so stunned the water pours onto the table before I catch it's overflowing and I curse, putting the pitcher on the table and then hurriedly reaching for a towel as it's beginning to drip into her lap. I swipe up the water, ignoring her cowering against the chair as I lean over and crowd her space, trying to make sure the water doesn't get all over her. I look up briefly in apology, seeing her face is completely washed out. Almost gray.
"Tamryn, I am so sorry-"
"My name isCamilla!"she says in a small voice, sniffing. She starts crying as she takes a napkin and wipes her tongue with it before downing the water in record time. "Oh God, I'm going to be sick."
She launches out of her chair and stumbles over to the trash I never finished taking out and vomits everything up.
"I don't care what you're doing. Get your fucking ass on Colin's plane, and get to Montananow!"I roar into the phone, not caring I have a world renowned psychiatrist at the other end.
I'm out in the shed in the dead of the night, sweating, and pacing back and forth as acute panic swells inside me. I've seen and dealt with a lot of fucked up things in my life, but never anything like this.Never.This takes the cake for me. I'm so bewildered I'm about to make a call to Frank. Get him off that fucking island to come help my ass because I'm clearly in way over my head.
After she threw up and then spent another solid three minutes dry heaving in a panic, I made Camilla a turkey sandwich and prayed to every God in the universe and beyond that Tamryndidn't make an appearance and feel betrayed that I threw away the smothered pork chop dinner I made special for her.
Goddamn it.
"I'm on my way to the airport now, Mr. Bowers," Alexander Richardson’s smooth voice comes through the phone, doing absolutelyfuck allto calm me down. "I'll be there as soon as the plane lands. I won't even stop at the hotel. Tell me what happened," he continues, acting as if he doesn't have an absolute psycho yelling into his ear.
For all we know, he's about to be treating me too.
My hand flies up to grip my hair, proving that point. "I don't even know what to fucking feed her, Alexander! Every time I think I might have a grasp on one little thing, she fucking flips!"
"What do you mean flips?" he replies in a calm tone. "Describe it to me."
I spend the next almost half an hour depicting to him in painstakingly perfect detail every thing that's happened since I got her. Except for the murder. I'm not trying to go to prison. When we hang up, I slam my fist into a wood beam over and over again until the skin is torn and bloody and my knuckles are swollen, and I'm so tired that some of the anger has dissipated in favor of my body needing sleep.
Going back into the house, I close and lock the back door wearily and then head to my bedroom, intending to clean up my knuckles, and take a shower. I'm so exhausted I don't know how I'm still standing. I haven't been to sleep yet, and it's almost midnight. I was up all night watching over Tamryn the night before, making sure she was okay. But now the fatigue is setting in bone deep.
I only have about seven hours before Alexander makes it to the house, and I need every bit of that worth of rest I can get. I set the alarm system and head down the hallway, weary in both my mind and my spirit. Tamryn's situation feels like a woodenblock that's been mercilessly placed on top of me and its weight is crushing.
As I approach her door, I pick up her presence, and sure enough as I pass, she's standing at the door looking through the crack. She'd give a normal person a fucking heart attack. I stop right outside, and turn just my head to meet her eye. We stand like that for long seconds, just observing each other. When the door opens a bit wider, I keep still, letting her make the first move.
Her eyes drift down my body. "What happened to you?"
"I hurt my hands out in the shed." I don't bother saying a name, I don't want to know who I'm talking to right now, honestly. I just want peace for a second, long enough to clean up.
Her eyes snap to mine, and the sorrow within makes my heart ache for her. "Was it because of me?" she asks in a tiny voice. I know then, that I'm speaking with Camilla.
"No, sweetheart. I had an accident in the shop outside," I say simply, keeping my clenched fingers loose and my voice calm.
