CHAPTER THREE
“RELAX, MATT.It’s okay.”
Clay’s voice floated close to my ear. My eyes popped open to see him kneeling next to me, with Charlie looking over his shoulder. They were in my home, somewhere they had no business being. I tried to sit up, but Clay held me in place.
“Stay down. Charlie said you had a panic attack, and I think you need to rest.”
“You have to get him out of my house,” I croaked. The Sahara wasn’t nearly as dry as my mouth.
Clay turned to Charlie. “Can you get him some water?”
Charlie dipped his chin, gave a brief look around, then headed off into the other room.
“You scared the shit out of me. If Charlie hadn’t called, I wouldn’t have known. I’m so sorry I forced you to do this.”
“Should be,” I gritted out. “Told you.”
Clay gave me a wan smile. “You did.”
“Charlie Carver,” I whispered.
“He’s getting you some water. He’ll be back in a minute.”
“No. His name. It’s Charlie Carver. You said if I found out, you’d leave me alone.”
“I don’t think you—”
“No!” I snapped, my throat aching. “You promised you’d leave me alone. I want both of you out of my house. Please. Just leave. Go away.”
Clay closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. “Matt—”
“I want you gone.”
“Here,” Charlie said, handing Clay the glass of water. He glanced down at me, and for a moment I thought I saw sadness in his eyes. “I’ll be going now.”
There was so much hurt on both of their faces, but I couldn’t afford to feel bad. I needed them gone. Having them in my house ratcheted up my discomfort, and if they didn’t go, I’d be right back in panic mode. Clay stood and offered me a hand, but I didn’t take it.
“I don’t feel right about this,” he said, reaching out to stroke my hair. “Please, at least let me take you to the hospital.”
“No,” I said sharply. I brushed away his hand as I struggled to stand. And it was a struggle. Weakness permeated my body, making me feel like my bones were made of jelly. I wobbled as I got to my feet, and Clay reached out to me, but I shrugged him off. “Get out. Now.”
Clay put the glass down next to me, then turned away, Charlie right behind him. They walked toward the door, which had been cracked when they forced it open. The lock hung limply off the frame.
As soon as they were gone, the crushing need to lie down overwhelmed me, but first I had to check everything. I touched each of my items, running my hands over them, ensuring nothing had been disturbed.
When my needs were satisfied, I picked up the glass my brother had set down, took it to the sink, washed it thoroughly, then put it back up on the shelf. After, I called Mr. Gianetti, the man who I could get just about anything from, about ordering a new door. He assured me he could have it to me within a week. In the meantime I did my best to bar the door. It wasn’t perfect, but it was reasonably sturdy. Once that was settled, my mind finally slowed down. Only then could I collapse onto the chair, allow my body to relax, and let sleep come.
THE SHRILLsound of Clay’s ringtone woke me a few hours later. Still exhausted, I reached over and picked up the phone. “What?”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” I answered honestly. My head weighed a ton. No way could I lift it off the pillowy cushion. “Did you need something?”
“Just wanted to check on you,” he said, his voice soft.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“No, you’re not.” He sighed. “You know you’re a crappy liar.”
