Page 12 of Twisted Trust
“Mine?” Through the fog of medication and dulled pain, I try to come up with a plan.
I always told myself that if he found me, I’d run.
I’d have no other choice and often presumed I’d never survive long enough to run if he found me, but here we are.
“Do you need me to spell it out for you?”
“I don’t need anything from you,” I snap, pressing my palm firmer over Scott’s ears. Thankfully, he’s calm in my arms, clinging to me. “Stay thefuckaway from me.”
“Now why would I do that when I’ve just found you again?”
“So you are here to kill me.”
“Can you blame me?” His burnt-honey eyes narrow to slits. “After the fucking disaster you caused?”
“ThatIcaused? I wasn’t the one who faked my own?—”
“Miss Jackson—oh, I’m sorry!” The door swings open and in walks my doctor, but he pauses and adjusts his glasses when he catches sight of Levi. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Levi remarks coldly.
“No,” I say at the same time, then I painfully clear my throat. “He was just leaving.”
Our eyes meet and my heart aches.
I’d spent hours staring into those eyes when they were filled with love.
Now they just hold hatred and I don’t even understand why. Not really.
I was told he wanted me dead because I was pregnant, and now here I am with my son in my arms.
Levi’s surely put two and two together by now, so why hasn’t he just gotten it over with?
Why am I still alive?
“Excellent.” My doctor smiles. “I’d like to go over your treatment plan. I know the nurse went through the basics with you, but I have a couple of things I just want to make sure we’re clear on.”
“Sounds good,” I reply, fighting the tremble in my voice.
“Sir, would you be so kind?” The doctor motions to the door and a strange, threatening silence falls.
Will he leave?
Levi hardly ever allowed people to tell him what to do and even if the doctor doesn’t recognize the pin clinging to his jacket, Levi can remind him soon enough.
But to my surprise, Levi simply agrees to leave, although he hesitates at the door and glances back at me.
“Don’t leave town.”
His words are cloaked in fake concern, like he just wants to keep me safe, but I hear the threat underneath.
A warning.
Run and I’ll die.
Stay and I’ll die.
The doctor’s visit is whirlwind. He wants to keep me overnight due to the gunshot wound I suffered, but every word out of his mouth is just another dollar onto the eye-watering bill I’m sure to get from this visit.
