Page 14 of The Coworker
Tim glances down at his jacket, which is hanging open to reveal a gray T-shirt and blue jeans. “I don’t know. I’ll just wear this tomorrow.”
“Boys.” Chelsea shoots me a look. “Sometimes I wonder what we see in them.”
I laugh along with Chelsea, but when I look back at Tim, there’s something in his expression that makes me a little uneasy. I told him we were spending the night. Back when we were much younger and such things were allowed, Tim used to come to my house for sleepovers, and he always brought along everything but the kitchen sink. Yes, a lot of time has passed since then, but it still seems strange that he would come to a sleepover at Shane’s house and not bring anything but himself. It doesn’t seem like Tim at all.
Maybe I don’t know Tim at all anymore.
Or maybe he doesn’t plan on staying.
Chapter 8
PRESENT DAY
I had hoped it would be months before I ran into Shane Nelson—if ever. But here I am, only on my second week, and here he is. Live and in the flesh.
The man who tried to kill me.
For a moment, I feel a tightening in my neck. The necklace he tried to choke me with cutting off my windpipe. I can’t breathe. I grab onto the door frame, taking deep breaths. I can’t let this get to me. I have to be a professional.
I’m okay.I’m okay.He can’t hurt me anymore.
Shane notices me a split second after I recognize him. He looks about as shocked as I felt. Maybe more, because he had no idea I was working here. He had been shuffling in the shackles, but when he sees me, he stops short, his mouth falling open.
“Come on.” Hunt gives him a shove to get him moving again. “We don’t have all day, Nelson. Move it.”
They keep walking until they reach the examining room, where they come to an abrupt halt. Shane’s brown eyes are filled with pain when they meet mine.
“Hi, I’m Brooke,” I say stiffly. I feel a little ridiculous introducing myself to the man I lost my virginity to, but here we are.
Before Shane can open his mouth, Hunt barks out, “This is Shane Nelson. Injury on the yard to his forehead.”
“Okay.” My voice sounds oddly calm considering my heart is doing jumping jacks. “Come on in, Mr. Nelson.”
Shane again seems frozen in place. Hunt has to give him another shove to get him moving again.
Climbing onto the examining table is tricky given he’s got his wrists and his ankles shackled. I’ve seen Hunt help other men in this position before, but he does nothing to help Shane. It takes him a few tries, but Shane manages to get up on the table.
Once Shane is situated, Hunt leaves the exam room. I start to close the door behind him, but he puts up a hand to keep the door from closing.
“You should keep the door open with this one,” Hunt says.
I glance over at Shane, who is sitting on my examining table, his head hanging down, his wrists and his ankles bound together. I have felt twinges of fear around some of the inmates, but I don’t feel it right now. Despite what I know he’s capable of.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, hoping I don’t regret my words.
Hunt keeps his hand on the door, still preventing me from closing it. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, I’m sure he’s going to push his way in. But then releases his hold on the door. “I’ll be right outside,” he tells me. “You have any problems, you give me a yell.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say again. But I don’t close the door completely. I keep it cracked just the slightest bit.
Now Shane and I are alone in the examining room. It’s the first time we’ve been alone together since he… well, we don’t need to relive that night. He looks different from the way he did when he was seventeen. Different and the same. His hair is much shorter, clipped barely an inch from his skull, and there’s a hardness to his face that wasn’t there before.
I hate that he’s still every bit as handsome as he was back then.
I hate even more how much he looks like my son.
For a moment, the two of us just stare at each other. Glaring, more like—his eyes are dripping with venom. I don’t know whathe’sso upset about. I should be the angry one—if it were up to him, I would be dead. I suppose he’s mad that I told the truth in that courtroom.
“Hello,” I say in the flattest, most emotionless voice I can muster.
