51. Annie
Chapter Fifty-One
ANNIE
R oom 323.
W hat he just said to me melted everything, and almost my integrity, too. But I remember too clearly what Corinne did to me and I will never – and I mean never – do that to another woman. I slept with him, yes. But I didn’t know he was taken. Now that I know he is, it will never happen again. Even though I love him. Even with the hospital gown and laid up in bed with a blanket around his waist, he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Is this the ear you can’t hear out of, Brendan?
“Thank you for saying all of that. It means a lot. Really. But I can’t stay, because you have a girlfriend. She seems very nice and I can’t hurt her more than getting you shot already has.”
For Lord only knows what reason, he laughs. And not just chuckles, but a building laugh that makes him yelp in pain and hold his right side. With a smile gleaming in his dark blue eyes, he says, “Stay a little longer, Freckles.”
A knife twists in my heart. “No.” I turn and walk out the door, pulling my IV fast.
“Wait! She’s not my girlfriend!”
The door closes completely. I freeze, staring at Maria, caught. Her face says everything. My head is doing flip-flops, looking at her, hearing what he said, knowing what she’s about to say. “Hi. Um. He was in the robbery with me. He’s my… friend.”
With two pillows in her hand, she looks at his room number, putting it together like perfectly matched puzzle pieces. “Annabelle O’Brien… you’re Annie.”
I nod. “I guess so.”
She cocks her chin to his door and says, “Well, what are you waiting for. I didn’t see anything.” Woman-to-woman again, she smiles and continues walking, humming loudly for the fun of it.
She’s not his girlfriend? Why did she say she was? He didn’t lie to me? I open the door and see him with his head in his hands. He drops them as he looks up.
“She’s not your girlfriend?”
He slowly shakes his head, a smile spreading. “No. She’s just a good friend. But you called her my mother so she got a little upset.”
Covering my mouth with my hand, I laugh, embarrassed and happy. “I should have said sister. She doesn’t look old enough to be your…”
He stops me. “I know. Come here.” He points to the side of his bed.
I walk to him, glancing to my metal appendage and maneuvering it so I can sit on the edge of his bed again. He’s serious, but his eyes are gleaming and connected. He reaches up and touches my cheek. I hold my breath as his thumb caresses it, because it reminds me of when I did this to him when I was drunk and twenty-three. Did my eyes look like his, the care apparent?
His fingers slip into my hair and he pulls me to him until we’re inches apart, looking into each other’s eyes. “I don’t have girlfriends. You need to know this. I won’t settle down.” He searches me for acceptance and understanding.
I give a tiny nod, wondering why he’s telling me this. “I’m just sitting here,” I say on a whisper and he smiles.
“Be careful of my horrifying gunshot wound.” His smile grows into a grin. “It’s pretty badass.”
“Oh, you’re very badass,” I say and lean in to kiss him without touching his chest. He pushes on my hip to tell me without words that he wants me on his lap. I carefully bring my leg over to straddle him, the IV cord swinging from my right arm. I bring my hands up and hold his face, kissing his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips, with tiny, tender kisses. “I won’t hurt you, Brendan,” I whisper as I feel him hardening. His left hand, the one with more mobility, travels under my gown and his fingers slip inside my panties as I feign shock.
“What?” he says, mocking my expression. “Oh no, what’s happening?” I stay very still as he strokes me and whispers, “I have to take advantage of being alive, don’t I?”
“I can’t say no to that. But it’s so hard not to press my whole body against you when you do that.”
“Well, try.” He kisses me, his fingers working. I rise up a bit and pull his gown up, I take him in my hand and guide myself to hover over.
“You’re not wearing your boxer briefs.”
“They were gone when I woke up.”
“Maria…” I make a tsk tsk tsk noise. He tries not to laugh.
“It was probably a hot doctor,” he argues.
“A male hot doctor,” I counter with a wink as I slowly stroke him.
“That feels good,” he says hoarsely, his voice deepening. “Finally something feels good.”
“So does what you’re doing, Brendan.” I look down at his chest, covered and secret. “Can I see it?”
A nervous flicker passes his eyes, but he nods, and releases me, his hands resting on my thighs as I very slowly pull the cotton of his gown up. The taught abs on his stomach are bent in with his posture and the beginning of a large white bandage comes into view. The skin around it is pink, raw, and hurt. I stare at the space.
His body tenses as I reach out to trace his skin, ever so slowly circling the outside of the gauze like I can heal the redness with my gentle touch. It relaxes him and he watches me with his lungs seeming to rise easier. I trace the center of his chest over his heart. I place my palm on his skin and look into his eyes. “There. All better now.”
He’s staring at me, thinking things I will never know. His left hand touches my hip and his eyes tell me what he wants. I rise a little and push my panties to the side, adjust so I’m above him in just the right way. We smile at each other as he glances to the tubes hanging out of both of us. “We’re so sexy right now,” I grin.
“I think we’re very sexy.”
“You’re probably heavily medicated though.”
“I so am. I wouldn’t be surprised if none of this is really happening.” He looks down and watches as I slide onto him.
“Oh, it’s happening,” I tease. He closes his eyes and lays his head back on the pillow. I slide up and very, very slowly down. To see his face, the lines of it tracing and burning into my memory, is a miracle to me. I love the man he’s grown into. He looks so wise and comfortable in his own skin, even wounded like this. He’s the perfect alpha male and being with him, looking at his face and bending to kiss his lips, makes me feel like the woman I always wanted to be. It’s like we’re two sides of the same coin and don’t exist without the other. Slow down, Annie. You could get very hurt.
He opens his eyes and shakes his head a little bit, disbelieving what we’re doing and smiles into my face. I lean in and kiss him and he holds onto my hips, his right arm out more than the other. He looks down to see us joined together, a small, kissable space appearing between his lips. A slow groan of pleasure escapes him and he has to force himself not to move with me. “It’s torture,” he whispers hoarsely.
I press my lips to his and say without thinking, “I thought this would never happen again.” My heart speeds up; what if that was too much?
But he looks into my eyes, without missing a beat and says, “I didn’t even have your phone number.”
Pleasure ripples through my body. “Oh my God.”
“You feel so good, Annie.” He’s looking at me like he’s mine. And I don’t care what he said earlier – he is mine. I’ve always known that and being with him makes it even clearer. He has to see it. And if he doesn’t, I’ll wait around until he does.
“What is going on here?” a female voice says by the door.
We look over and there’s Rebecca standing in the door with two coffees in her hands, sickened.
“Oh, shit,” Brendan, says. “Turn around, Rebecca. I’m sorry, Annie.” He pulls up on my legs and I quickly dismount, moving my panties back into position as I get off the bed as quickly as I can without bouncing it and hurting him. But the surprise and the tubes and the panties all collide in an unavoidable disaster and I fall flat onto the floor, taking the IV pole with me. Rebecca flips back around to look at me in horror. Brendan’s covered himself and reaches to try and stop my fall, but doing so hurts him and he cries out in pain as I scream from the needle yanking out of my skin.
Maria rushes in past Rebecca and helps me up, turning to Brendan who’s holding his ribs with a horrible look on his face.
“I saw her walking in, and hurried over as fast as I could,” she mumbles, running to check his sutures. I stand up to watch, smoothing down my gown and darting my eyes to the left to see Rebecca staring at him, too. She loves him. It hits me square in the eyes.
“Rebecca, Annie. Annie, Rebecca,” Brendan says, as Maria pulls back his gauze, revealing metal sutures that are shiny red but still intact. He looks at it. We’re all looking at it.
“They’re okay. But you have to be more careful.”
Satisfied he’s not in danger, Rebecca’s focus lashes to me. “Why are you here?” I blink and she adds, “I mean, I don’t understand why you’re in a hospital gown. You were fine yesterday.”
Maria crosses to me and looks sideways at Rebecca before she reaches for my arm, inspecting the needle that has dislodged itself and is hanging precariously by a thin shard of tape.
“I was admitted last night because I fainted and was dehydrated from stress.”
Rebecca turns on her heel and walks out.
“Shit,” Brendan mutters again.
Maria looks over to the door. “I take it she’s not your sister.” She looks back and forth between us. “We’ve got to get you back to your room now. I can get in trouble for this. And I need to get a new needle for this.”
“Right. Okay.” I throw a glance to Brendan. “You okay? Do you want to call her and explain?”
He shakes his head, irritated. “I don’t have my phone.”
Remembering, I say, “Oh! I almost forgot I found your jacket at the bar.”
He sits up straighter. “Do you have it with you?”
Biting my lip, I shake my head. “I don’t. One of my employees might have it? I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
He slouches against the bed. “Great.” Then to himself he adds more quietly, “Hopefully she’ll come back.”
“We really have to go,” Maria says, holding the door open.
“Okay,” I look over to him, a knot twisting in my stomach.
His eyes close and he says nothing. If she’s not his girlfriend, and he’s reacting this way, who is she to him? Wait, is she like I am to him? Am I like her? I turn and avoid Maria’s eyes as I pass through the door.
Maria looks down as the door shuts behind us. “We need to get you some socks.”
Through the door, he yells, “Annie!”
My heart leaps into my throat. Stepping back in, I ask, “Yes?”
He’s frustrated. “I can’t even go chase you down if I want to. This is ridiculous.” There’s a war going on inside of him and it’s all playing out through his eyes. He’s struggling to say more, so I wait, holding the door open. “I just want to say, I’m glad you’re okay.
It’s so plain that wasn’t what he was going to say. Will I ever know? “I’m glad you are, too.”
He nods. He’s always got so much going on behind those eyes of his. I know that inside his mind are things he doesn’t share with anyone. Probably not even Mark. He has a loneliness that lives in his eyes, an underlying sadness. As we look at each other, I know he’s not going to say more now, so I tap the door and turn to leave.
“Come back and see me when you can,” he calls out.
I look over, surprised. “Okay.” He doesn’t smile, so I lay my head on the edge of the open door and look at him. “I’m sorry we were interrupted. I was having fun.”
A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I was too.”
“Sucks.”
“It does,” he chuckles, brightening despite everything.
I tap the door again and turn and leave with Maria and when we’ve walked far enough away, she throws me a sideways glance. “He likes you.”
I’m staring ahead, my steps cold on the floor and my arm aching. “God, I hope so.” We don’t say anything else because my mind is with a woman who got to him before I did, who loves him, too, and who might just be more of a problem than I think. Lord knows I don’t want to have to fight for him, but I fucking will if I have to.