Page 43 of Queen of Ruin

“Sit down. I got you some meds.”

As I return to the bed, Diego closes the door and locks it, then he’s by my side, pressing painkillers and antibiotics into my hand.

“Here,” he says. “Take these. It’s two of the painkillers and one antibiotic, I think. And this…”

It’s only when he’s rummaging through them that I realize he’s brought bags with him and a sudden warm, bakery smell hits my nose.

“What is that?”

“Water.” He passes me a bottle. “Croissants. Some salad packets. Sandwiches and these…” He straightens up and holds up some clothes. “I think these are in your size. I also got you this.” Diego sets the clothes down and pulls a small phone out of the last bag. “So we can stay in touch if we’re ever separated.”

My eyes widen. “You thought of everything.”

“It’s more like I panic-bought everything I could think of. And we have cash now, so we can stay as long as we like, maybe another night or two until you’re feeling better.”

I pop the painkillers and chase them with mouthfuls of water, then repeat with the antibiotics. Once they’re down, we share a croissant while I undress and then hesitate when I find the new underwear he bought me.

“Lace?” The new bra dangles from my fingers. “Where’s the practicality?”

“You’re telling me you can’t save my life in a lace bra?” Diego asks innocently.

“You’re such a dog.”

“Sue me.” He grins around a mouthful of sandwich. “Plus, I thought maybe it would help you feel more like yourself if you dressed like…”

“Hot?” I cut in.

“Womanly,” he corrects. “But hot works too.”

“What if I’m a tomboy?” I ask as I slip into the fresh bra and panties. “Or a Goth?”

“Well… we can go shopping together next time.”

Surprisingly, he’s right. The fresh bra and panties feel good to wear and by the time I slip into the black jeans and navy blue shirt, buttoning it only halfway, I do feel more human.

“Well?” Diego grins up at me. “How do you feel?”

“The painkillers are working,” I admit, smoothing my hands down the shirt. “And I suppose this feels okay.”

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good. I have better medical stuff too. I want to change some of your bandages and clean some⁠—”

A sudden, rapid knocking at the door cuts Diego off, and his eyes narrow. Then a shadow passes over his face as the knocking turns into pounding. He stands and glances at me, then he approaches the door.

“We’re kinda busy,” he calls. “Come back later!”

“Diego!” yells a familiar voice that makes my heart sink as low as Diego’s shoulders. “Open the fucking door!”

Diego has no choice but to oblige and he rips it open with barely constrained anger.

“Mindy? What the fuck are you doing here?!”

17

DIEGO