Page 39 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

His jaw flexed, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “This isn’t a decision you get to make alone.”

“Funny.” I gave him a pointed look. “It looks like I just did.”

He looked caught between frustration and desperation, his mouth pressing into a hard line as he fought to keep whatever he wanted to say under control. He drew in a deep breath, held it briefly, then finally let it out.

“You can’t go to work.”

I lifted a single brow, keeping my voice unnervingly calm. “Watch me.”

We held each other’s gaze, neither of us willing to give the other the satisfaction of backing down. The tension between us seemed to pull tighter with every passing second.

Then, unexpectedly, the fight left him.

His shoulders sagged, his features losing their edge as frustration gave way to exhaustion. When he spoke again, his voice carried none of its earlier command.

“Alessia, please. Let’s just go home. I can’t let you go to work like this.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “You’re not letting me do anything. This isn’t your decision to make.”

He took a slow step toward me, the anger slipping completely from his face until his expression was almost unbearably vulnerable. When he stopped in front of me, his voice dropped to a murmur. “Don’t go to work.”

His hand reached for mine, his fingers curling gently around it. The warmth of his touch startled me. “Please.” His eyes held mine, the plea in them impossible to miss. “Just come home with me,” he murmured. “Let me take care of you. We can talk. We can figure this out. Just…” He swallowed, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles. “Come home.”

There it was again.

That vulnerability I’d glimpsed before. The desperation he tried so hard to bury beneath all that control.

It almost made me hesitate.

Almost.

I slowly slipped my hand from his, watching his fingers fall uselessly to his side.

“No.”

His eyes closed, defeat settling over his features. He gave a slow, resigned nod before reaching for my bag. “Fine. You win.” He slung it over his shoulder and headed toward the door. “But I’m coming with you. I’ll stay until you’re done, and then we’ll go home together.”

I didn’t move. “I’m not going home with you.”

He stopped mid-step and glanced back at me, impatience flickering across his features. “Then Naija can drop you off, and I’ll follow right behind. Happy?”

I shook my head, keeping my voice steady. “You’re not getting it. I’m not going to your home. At all.”

He went completely still. The bag slipped slightly from his shoulder as he turned to face me properly, his eyes widening as he struggled to process what I’d just said.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to my apartment.”

Naija and Felicity had made all the arrangements while he was guarding my door, ensuring I had everything I needed to walk out of this hospital.

His brows pulled together. “What apartment?”

“The one I live in?”

He continued staring at me like I’d just announced plans to relocate to the moon.

Then something clicked.