Page 92 of Heal Me

“It’ll be over in a few minutes,” I reassure him, continuing to squeeze the stress ball in my hand.

A beep alerts the nurse, and she appears, removing the needle and placing a cotton ball and a bandage in the bend of my arm. Soon another beep goes off, and Tom’s nurse returns and does the same for him.

We’re escorted to the snack room, encouraged to rest and eat before we leave. I am feeling a bit wobbly, so I take a seat and sip on some orange juice. Tom takes a seat across from me, looking a bit peckish. “Sure you’re okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” he says, standing and walking over to the snack station. He returns with a protein bar. Unwrapping it, he takes a bite and then tosses the rest in the trash can. “Garbage,” he mutters.

“Dr. Cooper, I heard you’d be here and brought your favorite,” a blonde woman wearing scrubs says as she enters carrying a small, insulated lunchbox. It’s a morning of double takes for me, because this is William’s girlfriend.

“Hey, Allie.”

“Do I know you?” She stares blankly at me. Nope, we were never destined to be friends.

“Thank you, Ms. Hendrix,” Tom says.

“Sure thing.” She nods and walks out. Their interaction didn’t seem to have any sexual overtones, so I’m hoping she’s not cheating on William with Tom and his “amazing” tongue. I’m grossed out just thinking about it.

Tom and I walk out together, and I want to ask how he knows Allie, but decide it isn’t my business. We part ways, as we’re parked in different garages.

Riding down an elevator alone, I step out into the garage, feeling like someone’s following me. Rule one—situational awareness. Turning around and surveying the garage, I don’t see anyone. Picking up my pace, I’ve almost reached my car when I feel a knife at my throat and a hand banded around my waist. A car trunk opens and I freeze, stuck in terror. My attacker begins dragging me to the trunk, and I know what’s about to happen—it’s happened before with Brad, yet I can’t get my body to move. To fight.

“Dammit, Charlotte,” Sam says, lowering the knife. Turning around, I go to gouge out his eyes, but he blocks me. “Your training just got doubled.”

Fuck. I’m beyond pardoning my French at this point.

Returning home, I march straight to my room and grab my book of shadows. Setting up my supplies, I cast a circle. Magic helped me overcome the last hurdle to being intimate with Gabe, and maybe magic can help me overcome whatever’s holding me back in physical fear.

Anointing my candle with banishing oil, I carve the word fear into the wax. Lighting it, I write on small scraps of paper all the words that come to mind when I think about Sam dragging me to that trunk.

Fear

Claustrophobia

Darkness

Unable to breathe

Death

The unknown

The terrible anticipation

Terror

Helplessness

One by one, I channel those feelings as I burn each paper. Closing my circle, I leave my candle to burn out overnight.

* * *

Sam picks me up the next morning at six a.m., my punishment for yesterday’s garage performance. He couldn’t care less that I just gave blood and should probably take it easy today.

After a grueling three-hour training session, he silently hands me over to Amer, thank God. Sam’s grumpier than usual, and that’s saying something.

I walk over to the bench and grab a box. “White-chocolate macadamia cookies, your favorite.” And that was my response to Sam’s punishment—I didn’t bring him his favorite cookies. I don’t even know what Sam’s favorite cookie is. Probably something with bittersweet chocolate, glazed in powdered sugar and the tears I’ve shed during our training.

“Awesome!” Amer says excitedly. “Charlotte, you ever tire of Cupid you know where to find me.”

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