Page 82 of Love Sick

I hear a muffle, then a thud, like someone dropping to the floor. I don’t open my eyes, however.

I continue chasing my orgasm as I think about Dutch and those impossibly blue eyes softening as he tells me he loves me.

Hands grip my upper arms roughly, tossing me to the floor.

I still don’t open my eyes.

Desperate lips lick and suck at my neck before leading across to my mouth, molesting me with a frantic tongue.

I don’t focus on this reality, but rather, I am lost in a world where it’s just Dutch and me. A world where there’s no pain, only love.

I know this is killing Dutch, watching and not being able to help. But he knows I can handle myself and that we only have one shot to get this right.

“You’re right, I took an interest in you because I knew your…son. Who do you think sold him his drugs? Who do you think he worked for to feed his habit?” Noah whispers into my ear as he pins me with his weight.

“He thought he was better than all of us, but your boy was nothing but a junkie. And a self-entitled little shit, thanks to his momma spoiling him. He owes me a lot of money, so I figure you can pay off his debts…but not before I finally fuck this little cunt of yours, and you’re going to love it. You can thank your son for all this.”

The question of who Misha’s dealer was has been answered. Makes sense why Noah knew where to come. Nothing in this entire affair has been a coincidence. But Dutch and I are caught up in a mess we never wanted to create.

As I see it, Noah is, in part, responsible for Misha’s, therefore…he must die.

I can feel his erection digging into me, so I reach down and begin touching him over his jeans. He moans into my mouth as he assaults my mouth and the moment he plunges his tongue down my throat, I bite down—hard.

I’m about to twist off his dick, but a loud thwack ends my fantasy, and I’m dragged back to reality when I open my eyes and see Dutch standing above me, frying pan in hand. The usual blue to his eyes is now consumed in black.

I’ve never seen him this angry before.

He glares at a semi-conscious Noah, who moans on the floor beside me. The blood trickling from the corner of his forehead confirms what I thought—Dutch smacked him in the head with the frying pan.

He is about to hit him again, but I calmly say, “No, he deserves to be awake for this.”

Dutch wrestles with his desire to maim and kill, but he eventually concedes. He offers me my dress, which I accept and slip on. Once dressed, he picks me up and crushes me into his chest.

“That was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Please don’t ask that of me ever again.”

“I promise,” I whisper into his neck, his smell comforting me.

Looking over his shoulder, I see Kyle slumped on the floor. I assume Noah knocked him out so he could give in to temptation—silly little lamb because he’s about to pay the price for his arrogance.

“He was Misha’s dealer,” I reveal, looking at the son of a bitch who I want to punish in every possible way.

Dutch lets me go and I see something pass over him.

“What is it?”

“It explains why Old Timer was giving him the drugs he stole from the hospital.” When I look at Dutch, confused, he explains further. “Old Timer helped me out in exchange that I was to give him my meds. I saw him give Noah the drugs, and I wondered why he wanted them. I now know.”

“Oh my god,” I gasp, sickened. “That hospital is nothing but evil. This is all connected for a reason. It was never a coincidence. Joy. Alanna. Jonathan. Misha. Me. You. This was all a fucked-up cosmic kiss of the universe which fated us to hell.

“Jonathan is the reason for all this. I wish that bastard wasn’t dead because I would kill him a thousand times over for what he’s done.”

Dutch sighs before planting a kiss to my forehead.

He looks over at Kyle, and I wonder what he’s doing as he checks his pockets. “No cell,” he explains. “He probably left it in the car.”

“I saw his dad before I came here,” I share. “Kyle isn’t his son. He doesn’t know who the father is.”

Dutch pales as his thoughts are suddenly on the same path as mine. “His father couldn’t be?”

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