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“Text me what time, okay. Oh, and hey…I’ll do this for you, but I need something in return.”

“Like?” he asked suspiciously. Why was he always so wary of my favors?

“A new waitress,” I announced.

Alex snorted. “And where the hell am I supposed to find you a waitress?” he demanded.

“You’re resourceful. I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I chuckled, hanging up the phone. I threw my phone and my keys on the counter, before slipping off my jeans and my boxers. Walking toward the bedroom, I pulled my shirt over my head and disposed of it on the floor. As I was climbing between the sheets, Mr Jefferies jumped up and began purring, trying to get under the covers with me.

“Buddy, personal space, okay?” I muttered to him, tucking the covers close to me so he couldn’t get under. Eventually he gave up, and lay down between my feet. A king-sized bed and he chooses the most inconvenient spot for me? Shaking my head, I eased my foot out and moved over. Typical. I sleep around my cat. Well, so long as he’s comfortable.

Chapter Four

Jack

My phone buzzed as I pulled up outside the clinic. I clicked my hands-free, which read out the message. Thank god he was getting his car back tomorrow. I was sick of waiting around for him. Yesterday had been the same. I turn up, and half an hour later he's ready. I should’ve just left half an hour later today. There was so much I still needed to do at the bar that I felt like I was wasting time sitting around here doing nothing.

Jack, I'm running a few minutes late. Wait in the lobby if you like.

Getting out of the car, I took in the huge complex that was Belton Square Retreat. For a psych facility, it was as fancy as you could get. Alex had once told me the nightly fee for this place was four grand. Four-fucking-thousand dollars a night, and then you'd probably leave the place more fucked up than you were when you went in.

In the three years I'd been living here, this was my first time going inside Belton. I avoided hospitals and the like wherever I could, and this place reminded me way too much of one to be comfortable.

Strolling over to the entrance, I pressed the buzzer. The door opened, and I was ushered into a room. Once I had been confirmed as a visitor, I was buzzed into a small reception area where I had to sign myself in, complete with a photocopy of my ID.

"You don't kid around, hey? You'll be scanning my eyeballs next," I joked. The security guard remained stone faced, not amused by my attempt at humor. No wonder Alex had no sense of humor, this place would suck it out of me, too. He finally let me through, but not before scowling at me again. I scowled back.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I glanced around. I don't know what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. It looked . . . normal. Nice, even. This was a far cry from the dark and gloomy asylum I'd been expecting. Where were the crazy people running around talking to themselves about the world ending? And nobody rocking themselves in the corner? This was disappointing. Maybe I’d been watching too many horror movies.

The huge windows made the room light and airy. It had been designed in such a way that there was no clinical feel about it at all. You could almost convince yourself that you were at a health retreat, or a resort. The faint smell of something savory wafted through the air, and I wondered if it was dinnertime. I looked at my phone. Six o'clock, about the right time for dinner in a place like this. I shuddered at the thought of being locked up in here, forced to follow a routine, made me feel sick.

I walked alongside a row of chairs toward a sofa, slumping down in the seat nearest the corner. I flicked open my messages to compose a reply.

Whenever you're ready, I'm in the lobby.

Stretching my legs out, I rested my head against the wall behind me and closed my eyes. Everything I still needed to do for the bar before opening was running through my head. Then everything that could go wrong began to fill my head. What if it all completely failed? This was my baby; I'd put everything into this, including most of my savings. The bar was me, Jack Falcon. This was the first time I'd focused completely on doing what made me happy. If I fucked this up then I had failed—something I'd done too many times in my life to handle it happening again.

"… You take what you want from me, there’s nothing left to give. . ." A voice, sweet and sultry sang breaking the silence of the deserted hallway. Even if I had wanted to move, I couldn't. I felt as though I was frozen there, unable to move, like my feet had been cemented to the ground. My eyes remained closed as the words soared into my heart. Sung by one of my favorite bands, this song had been almost like a crutch for me over the past few years. It hit me so close to home and reminded me so much of what I'd lost.

“I can’t pretend it’s all okay when I’ve lost the will to live. . ." Her voice was so mesmerizing, raw and full of emotion, not to mention so damn sexy it was making my heart race. I stood up, the sudden urge to see the owner of this voice undeniable.

As I rounded the corner, I saw her. Her legs, curled up under her knees, were covered in skin-tight jeans. She was as breathtaking as her voice. Her eyes were closed as she sang softly to the tune on her iPod, oblivious to the fact that I was a short distance away, staring. I wanted to look away. I wanted to run, but I couldn't.

Tall and willowy, her long red hair curled down her back. Or was it brown? It was hard to tell in this light. Her creamy skin looked so natural and fresh, and the way her lips moved to each word left me feeling dizzy. She was fucking gorgeous, and her voice was equally stunning.

Her eyes, the color of mahogany, opened suddenly, as if she sensed she was being watched. She blinked, her dark lashes seeming to open and close in slow motion. Color filled her cheeks as I continued to stare. Her full lips curved into a smile that made my throat feel as though it was going to close over as her gaze fell downward. I shifted my feet. Why was it so damn hot in here all of a sudden?

"Sorry, I forget I'm in public sometimes," she said sheepishly, plucking the buds from her ears.

"Don't be sorry. ‘Losing You.’ That’s one of my favorite songs." I smiled, leaning against the wall. "Besides, your voice is stunning. I could listen to you all day," I added, my eye

s moving over her body.

She blushed again. My gaze was making her uncomfortable, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away from her. "So, you're a fan of Seduce?" she asked, referring to the band of the song she had been singing.

"Yeah, I love them. Their music is so real. It makes you think . . ." My voice trailed off. Now it was my turn to blush. I sounded like a fucking greeting card.

She kicked her leg against the seat opposite her.

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