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She tightens her grip on my cheeks and skims her lips over mine before pressing her forehead to mine.
“I promise not to argue with the over the top security measures you’ve put in place on one condition.”
“It’s not an ultimatum.”
“Go with me to my psych evaluation.”
“I was going with you regardless.”
“I mean go in with me. Sit while I retell the story again. Listen to it until you’re convinced I’m okay.”
Her thighs clamp to my waist when I try to slide from under her. “Say yes.”
I remain quiet, my jaw clenched tight. She places her hands to my shoulders and presses up, pinning me with her glare.
“When Bizzy got hurt in her accident and we didn’t know anything for that short period of time, I was petrified out of my mind. Then, as the details came out, I became angry with her. Livid, actually. The first chance we had alone, I let her have it big time.”
My efforts to remain stoic falter, and I arch an eyebrow.
“I said ‘Bizzy what the hell were you thinking helping that demented, cracked-out bitch and putting her in your car? You could have called the paramedics and waited for them to handle the situation!’ She pierced me with a glare that sent chills down my spine and said ‘Claire, that was Shaw’s baby, and he was my first priority. B
ut, even if it wasn’t, I am a caretaker, a nurse, and a human by nature. There was no way I could let her collapse on a cement floor in a parking garage and not help.’”
It dawns on me where she’s going with this story, and I open my mouth to argue, but she places her finger over my lips.
“You once told me a similar story. One weekend you visited Nick at school, and I walked up to the tail end of a conversation where you were explaining having to visit the prison in medical school and treat a convicted rapist. Do you remember what you told me when I questioned you?”
“Even criminals need medical care,” I mutter against her finger.
“Tying this all together… like Bizzy, I’m a nurse, a caretaker, and a human by nature. That boy relied on me for medical care.”
“I’m not sure these two instances are relevant, baby. Your character was never questioned. We knew immediately you would care for Carlos.”
“You’re missing the point. I did what I had to do. I hate Stefano for what he did and how he went about it, but I’m here now. The question is are you here now? With me? Or are you so lost in your hatred that you’re missing this?”
Her words slam into me, sinking deep, and an unconscious haziness disappears. Once we left the hospital, the high we shared has been gone. Driving home, the elevator ride to our condo, walking in, it’s all a blur. The only thing on my mind was locking every window and door and constantly checking on our assigned security.
Now, it’s clear what’s in front of me. Claire’s wearing an old threadbare medical t-shirt of mine, her hair is hanging in waves from being braided while wet, her eyes now bright and completely free of worry. The scent of coconuts, citrus, and mint linger.
“I’m not missing this.” I knife up, flipping her onto her back, and lace my fingers through her hair. “I’m right here with you.”
“Finally!” she huffs with a grin. “I thought we’d need the handcuffs to make you see reason!”
I reach under the mattress and pull them out, grinning wickedly. “Actually, that’s a brilliant idea…”
Chapter 23
Claire
“Rachel, I need you to make this happen,” I plead.
“As I told you the last three times you’ve called, it’s happening. And to let you know, you’re on the cusp of being bridezilla.”
I cringe, slinking back in the chair, gasping for effect. “Nooooooo, say it ain’t so!”
“Did your kidnapper turn you southern?”
“No, my up-the-duff, sweet peach, soon to be sister-in-law, is rubbing off on me! Dammit!” I glare at Grace, who’s scrunching her nose.
