Page 47 of Spooked
I feel as weak as a newborn foal as I shakily get to my unused feet. It takes a moment to get used to being upright, and I make my way toward the bathroom, balancing with one hand on the bed.
“Let me help you,” she says, as I reach open space. I’m grateful for her supportive arms around me.
I didn’t realise she was going to assist me in the shower, but even with the chair, I’m glad of her help, despite the loss of my dignity.
Clean again, I dress in a fresh hospital gown, having nothing else to wear—my clothes from the accident were cut off me and destroyed, and I’ve no idea what happened to my case, which had been in my car. My wet, but clean, hair hangs loose and heavy, and I’m grateful when she hands me a comb.
“So where’s your man gone?” she asks conversationally.
Frowning, I bring back into my mind the last words that he said. “He’s gone to get something to eat.” An explanation simple enough that she accepts it without further comment.
It might satisfy her, but it does nothing for me. My head is in turmoil with numerous questions. Topmost, of course, is whether he’ll be back. Or has he come to his senses and washed his hands of me? I certainly hadn’t given him any encouragement to stay.
When she’s happy I’m safely back on the bed, the nurse leaves. It’s then that tears start to leak from my eyes, as I slowly pull the teeth of the comb through the wet strands of my hair. Even when all the tangles are removed, I keep up the motion, finding it hypnotic and comforting.
And all the while, the door to my room stays stubbornly closed.
The clock on the wall tells me an hour has passed, and then two. My hair’s air-dried, I look more presentable, but my heart feels empty, as I wonder for whom.
He’s given up on me.And who could blame him? He offered me a new life, and I showed no interest.
What do I want? That’s the problem. It’s never been a choice. I went to my gramma’s as Mom was dying, and after her death, I was kicked out with nowhere to go. I’ve muddled through life doing things that I didn’t want to do. A paid whore? Never wanted that, but it was necessary. I took the chance to study for my degree, and then accepted the first job offered because I wastoo afraid to do anything else. I’ve never been presented with alternatives as to where I could go.
Now I have, I’ll try not to choose the wrong one. But maybe, I already have. I’ve let Hound go.
I know he’s a member of the Satan’s Devils’ club.If he doesn’t come back, maybe I could go and seek him out.
My hand covers my mouth as the realisation hits me. I don’t actually give a damn about keeping my job in LA. A future with Hound is far more enticing. That is, if he gives me another chance.
When the door opens, I don’t even look up, expecting the medical staff to be doing their rounds once again. But the gruff clearing of a throat gets my attention.
It’s Hound in the flesh.For a moment, I’m so stunned, I can’t get any words out. I must look like a fool with my mouth gaping.
He enters, that practiced motion with his crutches bringing him to the chair beside the bed, moving stiffly as if not sure of his welcome. His eyes examine me. “You look better.”
Well, anything would be an improvement on how he last me. “I showered,” I say, needlessly.
As a conversation starter, it falls flat. An awkward silence descends, then he takes in a shuddering breath, and nods at my phone that I’ve long forgotten, and which is lying where I left it at the foot of my bed.
He clears his throat, then asks hesitantly, “Have you received your employer’s response?”
I’d honestly forgotten about it. “I don’t know.” As he raises his eyebrow, I take a deep breath. “I’m frightened, Hound. More scared than I was in the house. I don’t want to go back to LA. I want to stay in Tucson and explore whatever this connection between us really is. But should I really burn my bridges, based on knowing you only for a few short hours while I’ve been awake?”
Earnest eyes stare in to mine. “What are you trying to say, Maeve? Do you want to stay or go? ‘Cause one moment it sounds like you’ve made a decision, and the next you’re talking yourself out of it.”
I fiddle with a crease in my hospital gown and grimace. “When you asked if I’d ever just ‘lived’, I’d have to say no. If I still have a job in LA, the sensible side of me says I should go back so I can provide for myself.”
“I can support you, Maeve.”
Pursing my lips, I shake my head. “I’ve had only myself to rely on for so long, I don’t have it in me to depend on anyone else.”
He leans forward, clasping his hands between his legs. When he looks up, there’s a quirk to the side of his mouth. “What if there was a way you could stay here, explore wherever this is going with us, but still have a salary coming in so you could support yourself?”
I match his half-smile. “We might have spent time in a dream world, but this is real life.” Looking at him wryly, I add, “I think.” As he chuckles, I shrug. “Maybe I could find a new job if I looked for one, but I can’t bank on that.”
“What if there was a job already available to you?” His brow rises. I just stare at him, perplexed. “Look, I know you’re hesitant about the MC, but the Satan’s Devils run their businesses aboveboard. We may not abide by all government rules, but we pay taxes, and someone has to deal with that. We have a construction company, as you know, a tattoo parlour, a strip club, an auto shop and,” he gives a small laugh, “Tash, Blade’s woman, is an author. Bullet’s woman has her own hairdressing business, and every one of those needs someone to do their accounts.” He’s caught my attention. I didn’t know they had so many interests.
“I’ve been talking to Wizard, our prez.”
