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He nods once, and I just know that if I don't have my ass to the beach in an hour, he's going to track me down.
The seconds tick down like hammers in my ears, sixty minutes to extract my mother from The Wild Boar, get her home, and clean her up. A twisted knot of fear and disgust churns in my gut at the thought of facing her harsh words and verbal assaults again. Swiftly followed by the sharp pang of rage that my father leaves me to take care of her as he fucks off to do god knows what.
Just another Saturday night in Rosewood.
1
EVANGELINE
“You don't haveto stay with me, you know. I'm sure you have much more important things to do than just sitting with me . . . here.” I let my gaze flit across the room, bouncing off the laminated How Are You Feeling emoji chart on the wall and the darkened TV in the corner and the cluster of medical equipment next to the bed.
Basically everything except for him.
Nerves spark to life in my belly, and I'm struck by the need to fill the silence. It just feels so quiet now that everyone left.
First Nova, then Dixie, and after Silas bribed Hunter with chocolate chip cookies, they left too. Which leaves me and my white knight to my left.
I never believed in that cliche saying everything happens for a reason. It always feels like a throwaway statement, one more often than not offered as some sort of condolences. Like those five words are supposed to magically make your situation better.
And for a missed promotion or a sour breakup, I suppose it works.
But for death and destruction? It feels cheap and insufficient.
But here I am, feeling the full force of those five words as I gaze at the person who quite literally saved me. There's no denying that tonight would have played out much differently if he wasn't there. I was lucky tonight. So very lucky.
Gratitude feathers along my consciousness. Soft and smooth and relaxing like a flower petal dragging across my skin. And even as grateful as I am, I find myself at a loss of what to say. Normally, I'd fill the silence with something random or trivial. But I can't do it right now.
I find myself in this strange sort of space. Not nervous to be alone with him but not comfortable like I have been every other time we've been together.
I clear my throat and stretch my hands along the tops of my thighs, my palms clammy. The urge to wash my hands—to wash everything beats against my skin from the inside, each thump louder and more demanding than the last.
I feel unsettled in my skin, twitchy and tender. The lights inside the room are bright and the quintessential scent of hospital permeates the air. I don't have an aversion to hospitals or doctors, but I just might develop one if I have to sit in this cold room for much longer. I've never needed a shower more than I do right now. The urge to submerge myself in a hot water cocoon is constant.
I'm positive it's residual anxiety from the events of tonight.
That's exactly how I'm thinking of it too. An event. Like this thing I can disassociate from, as something that happened and not something that happened tome.
I'm sure it's not the healthiest way to process, but it's where I'm at right now.
“Hey,” he murmurs as his big palm settles over my left hand, stilling the nervous flutter of my fingers. He waits for my lashes to lift and my gaze to collide with his before he continues. “I'm exactly where I need to be.”
I expel a breath and nod slowly. My gaze bounces from his left eye to his right, looking for something I can't even articulate.
Answers, maybe.
But for all his heroics, he's still hard to read.
“What's going on in that pretty head of yours?”
His voice holds the same grit it always does, like a pebble slowly tumbling over the rocky bottom of a creek. But that's not what has me pausing, my muscles locking up as realization settles across my shoulders like Nana Jo's favorite quilt.
It's the way my body responds to his voice. I expect the almost drugging sort of arousal at the tone of his voice, especially when I know firsthand how it sounds wrapping around all those naughty syllables.
But I never would've anticipated the way my body relaxed at the sound. Like everything inside of me unconsciously sighed—and what the hell is that all about. I don't know if I have it in me to try to unpack that response right now though it's a better alternative to letting myself fall down the rabbit hole of tonight.
I swipe my tongue over my bottom lip and look up at him. “I'm just . . . really ready to get out of here.”
He nods, his thumb sweeping across my skin in slow, small strokes. “The minute she gives you the green light, we're out of here.”
