Ethan's head whipped around, his eyes landing on Mel.Relief washed over his face, his shoulders sagging slightly.“Oh, good.A doctor.Can we get out of here, please?My wife and I just need to get home so she can rest.”
“She's not going anywhere with you.”
Ethan's gaze snapped toward me, his eyes blazing with renewed fury.“Who the fuck are you?”
I watched as Olivia's eyes widened, a mix of surprise and something else—relief?—flashing across her face.“Ethan, please.This is Carter.My...boss.”The hesitation in her voice as she said 'boss' twisted something inside me.
“Well, thanks for your concern, but you really didn't need to come all the way down here.I'll get her home and take good care of her.She'll be back to work on Monday.”His tone dripped with false civility.
“No.”
He blinked.“Excuse me?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia lean forward.“Carter, please.”
Her plea barely registered, drowned out by the roaring in my ears.I stepped closer to Ethan, the anger inside me a living thing, clawing to get out.The scent of his cologne—too strong, too cheap—filled my nostrils as I invaded his personal space.“I said, 'no.'She will not be going home with you.And she will be back to work when she ishealthyandready.”Each word was a bullet, fired with deadly precision.
Ethan's face twisted into an ugly, enraged mask.“I don't know who the fuck you think you are, but?—”
The rest of his sentence was lost as my fist connected with his face.The impact sent a shock wave up my arm, a satisfying crunch accompanying the collision of knuckle and cartilage.
“Carter!”Mel and Olivia's voices rang out in unison, twin cries of shock and dismay.
I flexed my hand, my knuckles stinging with the sudden impact.The pain was grounding, bringing me back to the present.Shit.
Ethan stumbled back, his hands flying to his face.Blood trickled between his fingers, crimson against his pale skin.His eyes, watering from the pain, fixed on me with an expression of shock and outrage.“You piece of fucking shit!I think you broke my nose!”His words came out muffled and nasal, distorted by his injury.“I'll sue you for this!This is assault!Security!”
His shouts ricocheted off the sterile walls, and the once-quiet corridor erupted into chaos as Ethan scurried off, no doubt in search of someone to slap cuffs on me.
I turned to Olivia.Her face was pale, and her hand clutched at her throat.I reached her in two quick strides.
“Olivia.Are you okay?What happened?”
She blinked, seeming to come back to herself.“I...I don't know.One minute I was shopping, the next I woke up in an ambulance.”
I reached for her hand, hesitating for a moment before taking it in mine.Her skin was icy.“Did they run any tests?Do they know what caused you to pass out?”
She shook her head, her eyes filling with tears.“Not yet.They were about to when Ethan showed up and started yelling.I guess he's still my emergency contact.”
“That asshole,” I muttered.“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have hit him.I just...I couldn't stand seeing him treat you like that.”
She squeezed my hand, a tremulous smile forming on her lips.“It's okay.I think a part of me enjoyed seeing it.”
I chuckled, relief washing over me.She was here, she was talking, she was okay.For now, that was enough.
* * *
I satin the holding cell, my knuckles still stinging from the punch I'd landed on Ethan's face.The air reeked of stale sweat and cheap disinfectant.
The fucker had gotten his way.Despite Mel's protests, security had called the police, and I wound up here.She promised to stay with Olivia, though.That provided some measure of comfort in an otherwise very uncomfortable situation.
I paced the confined space, my shoes sticking to the grimy floor.The cell felt like it was closing in on me, the walls inching closer with each passing minute.I closed my eyes, trying to block out the suffocating reality of my situation.But the acrid smell, and the constant drip of the sink kept pulling me back.
This place was a far cry from the world I was used to.Here, there were no clean lines or carefully considered aesthetics.It was naked, ugly, and uncompromising—a stark reminder of the consequences of losing control.
An officer's voice cut through the hum of fluorescent lights and muffled conversations.He called my last name and informed me I was being released.I was handed a plastic bag containing my confiscated belongings—wallet, keys, and phone.He led me out to the lobby and, as my eyes adjusted to the brighter lights, I was greeted by an unexpected sight: Wick and Emmett wearing matching shit-eating grins.
Emmett had his phone out, snapping pictures of me like I was some prized catch at a fishing tournament.Wick started a slow, sarcastic clap.
