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“No stitches, but the doctor in the emergency room said you should stay with someone.”
I’m a professional, grown-ass woman.
How?
How did I even survive to this age?
I don’t have to worry for too long. I’m sure I’m about to perish from shame.
Falling back on the pillows, I murmur, “I am so sorry.”
I was very wrong about this situation.
He didn’t take advantage of me.Itook advantage of him.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I want to vomit.
Maybe it’s the concussion.
“Jake?” I finally ask, feeling my stomach sink. “How did I end up in your bed?”
Please don’t say I came in here and propositioned myself.
“There was a thunderstorm,” he says slowly, unsure if that’s the answer, but I know immediately that it is.
I’ve feared thunder for over twenty years.
“When you found your way in here, you were shaking with a bloodied head. How could I say no?”
Great.
He’s making fun of me.
“And?”
“And that’s it. You slept. Nothing happened. I like my women coherent and not on the verge of vomiting.”
Ugh.
“Everything makes sense now. Thanks for looking out for me, but I better go before I embarrass myself more.” I say it to the ceiling because I’m still too mortified to meet his eyes.
He stands, looming over me while offering his hands to help me up.
The moment I begin to move, the door flies open. I drop my hands, throwing myself back down and pulling the covers over my head, praying to anyone that will listen that I didn’t just flash whoever walked in here. I feel some of Jake’s weight shift toward my side. He’s trying to hide my existence, I presume.
“Dad, Sharon’s cooking breakfast.”
His son.
And Sharon?
Who the hell is Sharon?
But I bite my tongue. I’ll be out of here in less than ten minutes. If I stay still and not breathe, I will make it out of here unnoticed by any humans, big or small.
But I really need to pee first.
