20. Lost
Chapter 20
Lost
FREDDY
“ Y ou know what I’d kill for?”
I lifted my eyes from my phone to see Callie had turned in the bed with her arms wrapped around her bent knees. I wished like hell she was still in just the gown, but after we’d gotten an accidental glimpse of her legs and ass, she’d asked the nurses for thin, papery pants.
It was okay. I still knew her cute, rounded ass was under them. I’d spent four days obsessing over it now that I knew how it looked with the bare cheeks peeking out.
Her facing me and starting a conversation were big departures from her typical behavior.
Pretending I didn’t exist.
Something made easier since I’d shot myself in the foot by bringing her the backpack from her locker. She split her time between watching some medical show—she’d switched from the crime one—and scrolling her phone like she was reading the most interesting shit in the world, with the occasional walk around the floor in between.
I tried to push her buttons, but she’d stopped throwing snark my way. I think she caught on that I liked it.
She just didn’t know how much.
How hard it made me.
“What’s that, chéri?”
I got a little taste of the attitude I’d missed when she rolled her eyes. “For you to stop calling me that.”
My dick hardened, stretching painfully to the side.
Cole—and likely Marco—might discipline that defiance. That wasn’t my style.
But the idea of watching them punish her?
I was a sick fuck because that new fantasy had been on rotation.
Precum dripped from my cock, and I crossed my legs, resting my ankle on the opposite knee to hide the bulge.
“Is that all, mon mignon ?” I lifted a shoulder. “Easy enough.”
“No, I—” Her words cut off abruptly, and she tilted her head. “Did you just call me a steak?”
I laughed. “It basically means my little cute one.”
If something had been nearby, I had no doubt she would’ve thrown it at my head. “I prefer being a steak.”
“Whatever you say, mon ciel étoilé. ”
“That one at least sounds prettier, so I’ll pretend it means I’m your buddy, and you can keep whatever the condescending translation is to yourself.”
“It means my duchess potato,” I lied.
She started to laugh before catching herself. She might’ve been trying to fight it, but a small, sexy smile curved her full lips.
It did nothing to help my hard-on.
I’m going to have more calluses on my hands from jacking off than I do from my knives.
Her gaze jumped above me, then dropped back. “Anyway, back to what I was saying. I’d kill for some rice pudding right now.”
“I’ll go make some as soon as Marco gets here.”
“I can’t wait that long. It’s pretty much a need at this point. I bet Dr. Cruz would write me a prescription.”
“The shit other restaurants serve is mass-produced and packaged in a plastic bag.” My lip curled. “Or a tin can.”
She frowned. “Really?” But then she shrugged. “Like I said, I’m desperate.”
“Mine is made with vanilla bean and freshly grated cinnamon and nutmeg. I can even add some honey, if you’d like.”
But I already knew there was no if about it. Ever since I’d brought her the small jar a few days before, she’d put it on her oatmeal, toast, and the biscuits that could’ve been used as bricks.
Eyes wide, her lips parted like I’d just muttered the sexiest words she’d ever heard.
One day, I’ll get her to look at me like that when it isn’t about food.
I thought I had her, but she stuck with it even if she didn’t sound as confident in her decision. “Then that definitely sounds like it’ll take too long. Please ?”
“I’m not leaving you alone. But I’ll have Marco grab some from the store on his way here.”
She must’ve known that was as far as I was willing to compromise because she flashed me a smile that went straight to my dick before returning to ignoring me.
For once, I didn’t push it. My control was already dangerously close to snapping.
Flirting with her was one thing, but trying for more while she was still in the hospital recovering from being fucking stabbed would make me an asshole.
And even if it didn’t, doing anything while the other two were gone felt… wrong.
I need to be smarter about this.
Otherwise, I’m going to lose her in the name of fairness. For all I know, they’re using their alone time with her to set themselves in a good position while filling her head with lies.
Or the truth.
With photo proof…
“Has Cole ever brought up Mardi Gras?” I asked.
The question from out of left field made her forget she was supposed to be pretending I didn’t exist. “No… Why?”
“Just wondering. King cake is his favorite.”
Her brows lowered, and she looked back at her phone.
Then the TV.
Then the clock, though that time was the same as the one on the phone in her hand.
She must be restless.
I can think of a dozen ways to release th ? —
No. Merde . I am just torturing myself.
A couple of hours later, a nurse came in, and Callie practically launched herself out of bed. Or as much as she could launch, which was more of a hobble. “Perfect timing.”
She usually dragged her feet when it came to being poked and prodded. It was even worse when it was time to shower since she said the water was cold and had the pressure of an annoying mist. I’d assumed her excitement was because I had to leave since she’d revoked our right to hear anything medical-related.
Maybe, possibly, we hadn’t handled it well when we’d found out how close she’d come to dying. How a few inches were all that stopped the knife from easily sliding into her soft flesh to steal her away.
But her urgency wasn’t fueled by her desperation to get rid of me—stomping my ego in the process.
She smiled and batted her lashes the same way she did when she was working the staff for extra dessert. “I’m not alone, so now you can go see if the cafeteria has any rice pudding left.”
The nurse’s brows lowered as she looked between us, but she didn’t say anything.
“You want the shit with film on it instead of my homemade masterpiece?” I put my hand to my chest. “Ouch, my pride.”
“Your oversized pride can take the hit this once.”
If I wasn’t on my best behavior—or maybe if we were alone—I would’ve shared that my pride wasn’t the only thing oversized about me.
But I kept my mouth shut and stood to close the distance between us. “Don’t overdo it while I’m gone. And listen to the nurse.”
“Promise,” she said instantly without a hint of snark, an eye roll, or the one-fingered salute she gave when she thought we weren’t paying attention.
Wow, she must really want that pudding.
Moving on instinct, I brushed my lips against her cheek. I pulled away to see her blinking up at me with those pretty brown eyes, and her lips parted.
I wanted to kiss those lips.
I wanted to do a fuckuva lot more than that.
I walked away before my thin thread of control went up like a grease fire.
Heading into the hall, I made it a few rooms over before backtracking to stick my head through the doorway. “Chéri.”
She jolted and spun to face me, her cheeks going red. It was followed by a wince at the sudden movements she shouldn’t have been making.
“Sit down before you fall.” My gaze narrowed at her guilty expression. “Wh?—”
But my question about what she was up to was cut off when she put her hands to her hips and snapped, “I said don’t call me that.”
“Little steak,” I amended.
She accepted that.
The nurse looked lost as hell.
“If they don’t have your precious rice pudding, what is your second choice?”
“Your homemade one. I’m fine alone while you go make it.” When all I did was wait for a doable answer, she sighed dramatically. “Pie. Any kind.”
“Got it.” I gave her a stern look. “Be good.”
I started toward the cafeteria, where I’d only stopped once for coffee to chug. It’d tasted like scorched grounds steeped a dozen times and had the consistency of sludge. The food hadn’t looked much better.
While she’d been limited to a bland diet, it would’ve made us dickheads to eat in front of her, shitty food or not. She’d been upgraded to a regular diet, so after their meetings, Marco and Cole would bring stuff from Chang’e—the Pan-Asian restaurant in Moonlight.
Still mild food. No chilis, raw fish, or deep-fried anything. But even a lightly seasoned rice bowl would be better than the shit the hospital fed her.
If it went well, I would bring my little steak a filet from the upscale steakhouse in Nebula—plus the precious rice pudding.
I reached the end of a hall before having to turn back to find some signage.
To hell with the confusing casino layouts to keep gamblers playing longer. Maximo should set Black Moon up like a hospital. Stick the games in small rooms, make the hallways look the same, and have them wrap in convoluted shapes.
No one could leave, even if they wanted to.
By the time I made it through the medical Hotel California and found the cafeteria, what they called food was picked over. I wondered if I’d have to get delivery from somewhere, but two bowls were left. I went with the one with the least amount of film on it before scanning the remaining dessert in case the pudding tasted as bad as it looked. Since apple pie was hard to fuck up—though they probably found a way—I grabbed a plated slice, paid, and returned to the room without getting lost.
At least, I thought I had.
The bed was stripped down, the TV was off, and Callie’s shit was missing.
What the fuck?
I took a couple of big steps backward out into the hall to check the room number. It was hers. A pit grew in my gut as I stalked across the space toward the open bathroom door to confirm what I knew.
It was empty.
Maybe they’re cleaning the room while she’s getting testing done.
She didn’t mention any, but would she have told me? Hell no.
I knew it was unlikely the nurses would tell me anything, but I was gonna try anyway.
As I approached the nurses’ stand, the one who’d been in the room earlier was already watching me. Like she’d been expecting me.
“Any idea when Callie will be back?”
She didn’t type or look at the computer in front of her. “There’s no patient by that name.”
“Calliope Meadows,” I amended, thinking again about how ridiculous the name would be for anyone but her.
It fit her, and that was even before her drug-induced—but accurate—comment about being a goddess.
I’d only seen her hair partially down once as Marco had helped re-braid it, but the curls made her look like one of those priceless paintings of a goddess of nature. Cole had mentioned the same thought.
Later, though. If either of us had said it in front of her, she would’ve tried to junk punch us.
Maybe she’ll let me take the braid out in exchange for both desserts.
I’m not above bribery.
The nurse pulled me from my inappropriate thoughts by repeating, “There’s no patient here by that name.”
I used the hand holding the pudding to point to the side. “But?—”
“ Currently ,” she emphasized, “there is no patient here by that name.”
“Are you saying she was discharged?”
She blinked at me, then spoke slow enough to get it through my thick skull. “Well, if there was a patient with that name, and now there isn’t…”
Catching myself before I lost my temper, I phrased my question in a way that wouldn’t piss her off. “She was allowed to leave on her own?”
“No.”
I set the dishes down to pull out my cell.
If one of those bastards swooped in to get her…
But there was nothing from Marco or Cole, and they would’ve let me know. If nothing else, just to rub my face in it.
“Who picked her up?” I asked, hoping she took pity on me.
I thought I was out of luck when she shrugged, but then she grabbed a sticky note from on top of the book in front of her. It was the same kind Juliet and Vera read, with the shirtless man on the cover. She set the paper next to the plates.
I scanned the messy note that seemed to have been written by a squirrel on uppers.
Alex.
Fucking Alex.
She crumpled it before tossing the evidence in the trash. “Someone today also mentioned a male roommate who would be able to help.”
“ What ?” I gritted out.
She shrugged. I was about to thank her and get the hell out of there when she added, “Doug is going to be bummed.”
Jealousy already burned through my veins, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take if she was about to tell me that Doug had also been pining. That didn’t stop me from asking, “Why?”
“His money was on you. Something about the accent.”
That explains why he made sure I was alone when he told me about the honey.
“And did you have a pick?” I asked out of curiosity.
She smirked and tapped the book. “My money was on all three of you.”
Yeah, definitely the same as Juliet and Vera.
Pushing the plates closer, I said, “Give those to whoever. If you’re set on your oath to do no harm, make it someone without taste buds.”
Then I headed for the exit, calling Cole as I went.
I didn’t lose her in the name of fairness.
I lost her in the name of rice fucking pudding.