Page 30 of BillionHeir
Once I find the place where I left off, I steal a glance over at Chloe. She looks totally unbothered by me or my bad attitude. I have to intentionally stop myself from getting worked up by herbehavior, forcing myself to focus on my book. I let the words transport me into the past, to a time when none of my present worries even existed. I only read one chapter before my eyes get too heavy to hold open any longer. I put my book down on my chest and succumb to the fatigue.
* * *
I wake to Chloe’s quiet voice saying my name while her soft hand presses gently on my good shoulder.
“Maxwell?”
“Hmm?” I ask, lifting one eyelid enough to see her sitting on the lounge chair with me, looking down with concern.
“You fell asleep. It is quite bright out here. We should probably get you inside before you get sunburnt.”
As I look up at her face, the sun shines around her head like a halo, making her look like an angel. I can’t help the smile that comes over my face. This might be the closest she has been to me in two weeks and all I can think about is pulling her down to me for a kiss. But I am not going to make a move until I am sure that is what she wants. I like my women willing, and consent is doubly important for a man of my status.
I am surprised when she reaches up and pushes my hair that has grown way too long off of my forehead. Her cool hand rests on my skin for a moment before she pulls it away. I nearly reached up to grab it and put her back before realizing how inappropriate that might be.
I shake my head to clear both the fog of sleep and the haze of lust that has taken over me and push myself up to a sitting position.
“You don’t feel warm, but with your weakened immune system, even the slightest thing could send you back to the hospital.”
A powerful surge of panic runs through my body. Chloe has some idea of how much I hated being at the rehab, but no one truly knows just how awful it was for me there and at the hospital before that. I will do anything I can to avoid going back.
As the adrenaline hits my brain, a flashback suddenly overcomes my thoughts. I begin to vividly recall what appears to be a trauma bay with bright lights and a chaotic flow of medical staff. My body is on a gurney, but I am watching as if suspended from above while the doctors and nurses scurry around me. Somehow, I am keenly aware of the fact that they are all desperately working to save my life. I watch as a doctor shouts for the defibrillator paddles and a nurse rushes to hand them to him. He then proceeds to shock me, not just once, but twice, forcing my heart back into a normal rhythm.
I rub my chest as the memory fades, but the pain persists as if I was really back there in the hospital. I look up to find Chloe watching me with concern.
“I can’t go back there, Chloe,” I say, my voice shaking from the powerful memory.
“You are going to be just fine, Maxwell. Let’s just get you up and back inside, okay?”
I concentrate on her soothing voice as she helps me stand from the chair. She starts to let go of my arm, but I reach out with my other hand and stop her. Her eyes meet mine and I can see the question on the tip of her tongue. We both know I am stable enough to walk on my own, but right now, I need her.
I need this.
Words fail me for what feels like the first time in my life. I can’t explain it, but her support, her mere presence, is healing me.
I shouldn’t want her. I shouldn’t need her. But I do.
Time stretches out between us as she seems to debate what to do. She could push me away, continuing to build walls between us when it is clear that I want to knock them down. Or she could let me in.
A few more seconds pass before she visibly relaxes. A small smile spreads across her face, and her rigid shoulders and back loosen ever so slightly. It is enough for me to recognize that she might not be all in, but she is definitely not all out.
Without a word, she starts walking next to me, leaving her hand where it was. I twist my arm so that we are holding hands, threading my fingers between hers. A feeling of rightness comes over me, calming my fears.
Much sooner than I would like, we are inside. She leads me to the sofa and releases my hand once I have sat down.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, not making eye contact.
I sigh, frustrated that she is pulling away yet again. But this time I am determined to push through it.
“I am. Let’s cook together.”
“You cook?” she asks, shooting me a skeptical look.
“I dabble.”
“Is that rich guy speak for ‘no’?”
I tip my head back and laugh out loud.
