Page 11 of You Found Me
It’s still crazy to me that the guy I had so much chemistry with a few years back happens to be Theo’s college best friend. I would hear things about the elusive Spencer Hale, but nothing that was said gave me any indication that he wasmyDaredevil. For someone as extroverted as Theo, he doesn’t have social media of any form, which would explain why I never put two and two together.
He mentioned in the note next to the meds that if we needed anything, he could be found at Wildflower Inn. Which is how I find myself standing in front of his open door, outright ogling his naked—and still wet—chest.
It’s not like I want to be staring, but I’m short so my gaze is automatically level with a wall of pure muscle. Sue me.
I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here, saying absolutely nothing, when I hear Spencer clear his throat. When I finally meet his eyes, it’s then that I notice the strands of wet hair falling into his eyes and the small smirk on his face.
“Sorry,” I say, mentally shaking myself. “Did you say something?”
He laughs a little before straightening. “Just your name. Is everything okay?”
My face starts to heat. “Um, hi. Everything is good. Sorry if I’m interrupting your morning, but I wanted to come by to say thank you for getting us home last night.” I wring my hands, and continue, “I don’t know what came over me and I’m a little embarrassed that you had to deal with me like that.”
“As I said last night, you don’t have to apologize. We all have bad or off days, and emotions were high because of the party.”
“I appreciate you being so nice about it,” I chuckle awkwardly. “I just wanted to stop by before I head back home and give my thanks. I hope you have a good day and maybe the next time we meet, I won’t have a mini meltdown.”
He smiles. “While I didn’t like seeing you upset, I enjoyed getting to hang out with you again. Be careful and hopefully I’ll see you next time.”
I head out to my car and the only thing I can think about is how hot he looked shirtless with just a baby blue towel slung around his hips. I had to stop myself from thinking too hard about the drop of water that traveled from his neck to the deep cut V of his abs.
Now I’m mentally cursing at myself because that wasnotokay. I’ve never once looked at another man the way that I just looked at Spencer the entire time I’ve been with Chance. That’s not fair to him.
It’s just the resurgence of old emotions, that’s all.
That’s all it can be.
***
I don’t know why I expected Chance to be home when I got there Sunday afternoon considering he didn’t call or text all weekend, yet I was still hoping he’d be around.
I spent most of the afternoon and evening prepping food for my work week and cleaning the apartment since he left itincredibly messy. By ten p.m. he still wasn’t home, meaning I went to bed alone, once again.
It’s now Wednesday morning and I’ve seen him once—very briefly—after work last night. He still hasn’t apologized for how he acted last week or mentioned how his scrimmages went. Though at this moment, I don’t care.
Because I’m currently dying.
I’ve felt terrible the past two days and thought it was from not sleeping well. But as I sit at the nurses’ station with my manager, Kelli, holding a thermometer under my tongue, I start to think that maybe Colette passed her sickness on to me.
“102.3 degrees. I’m sorry hun, but you’re gonna have to go home. I need you to hand over whatever notes you’ve made about your patients and clock out. If by some chance you still have a fever on Sunday, text or call to let me know so I can get coverage for you.” She squeezes my arm before telling me, “Go get some rest and have that fiancé of yours pick you up some soup.”
“Okay. I think sleep will help. Hopefully it’s just one of those 24-hour bugs, but I’ll let you know.”
I grab a few extra masks, start wrapping everything up to give to Kelli, and make it to our apartment forty-five minutes later. I would have been home much sooner, but I forgot where I parked.
We’re going to blame my feverish brain for that one.
When I get inside, I can’t even drum up irritation with Chance for leaving his clothes strewn all over the floor. But then I see something that makes me pause.
A bra.
Which normally wouldn’t be concerning since I do live here, however it’s the size that confuses me. I am a B cup at most, yet the one on the floor could fit both of my boobs into one cup—plus space to stuff it with a handful of tissue. Why would a bra of this size be in our apartment? Am I imagining the size of it because of my fever?
That’s when I hear it.
A moan.
Coming from the room I sharewith Chance.
