Chapter 24 Hell-no Zone
hell-no zone
Liam
“Well, the growl makes four, so yeah. But the rest? That’s just circumstances.” I look to the main door. “I’ll be back. Don’t move.”
At the rate I’m coming and going from this room, they could put me on payroll.
Finding the desk again, I see the same man as before, asking again if we have an update on discharge or food.
He assures me he’s noted it in her chart.
I level him with a look that would make scarier men tremble.
Long enough, apparently, that he lifts the phone and calls someone—I don’t care who—to ask verbally.
A female nurse rounds the desk about the same time. Her eyes go wide and her forced swallow is visible. My smile is casual as I say, “I need a tampon or a pad please.”
The blush that creeps up her chest would’ve been one that I took as a clue before. Before I might’ve cared.
She glances to my hand in what she thinks is a nonchalant gesture, before turning to a lower cabinet and handing me one of each.
I thumb the silicone that sits at the base of my ring finger and fidget with the band. I have to say, it made access to Lorien so much easier.
“Thank you.” Tilting my head to the nurse who is still asking about Lorien’s discharge, I add, “Would one of you please let us know what’s going on? It’s been hours.”
The bathroom door is shut when I return.
“I have a tampon and a pad,” I announce. “And a nurse should be around sooner or later so we can get you sprung from this place.”
The door cracks a minimal amount, and her thin hand reaches through the crack.
I pass both items through the door and note she isn’t wearing the ring I bought her. I haven’t seen her car, but by the sound of it, maybe today wouldn’t have been the best day to start.
Tomorrow, though… It will be on her finger.
Lorien
Having your period at such an inconvenient time might as well be adding insult to injury. So of course, it would show today of all days. At least they’re short and light, but that’s little consolation right now.
I don’t need more stress. And I certainly don’t need to be on even more of a hair-trigger than the situation warrants. But I didn’t recognize the heightened emotions or the agitation just under the surface.
Lawsuits and marriage proposals were enough. Add the stress of vandalism, an attempted break in, and running my car through a brick wall to escape the baddie who thought it would fun to play push with my car, and I’m surprised my cycle showed at all.
My car… I wasn’t looking for another expense. Or another to-do. But I’m going to guess I need a new one. I vaguely remember not having a door. Could that be right?
I don’t want to look Liam in the face. How much more could I make myself undesirable than I have over and over again in his presence? At least we won’t get emotionally entangled.
Ha.
As if I’m not already softening toward him.
As if I don’t already want him.
As if hiding in the bathroom could make any of this better.
Straightening my shoulders and ready to go out and face the day, I make the mistake of looking in the mirror. What in the Chex mix has happened to me and how long have I looked like this? I give up.
I’m almost back to bed when the door opens and in walks a doctor and a nurse, if scrub colors are anything to go by.
“Mrs. Murphy?”
I whip my head to Liam who just shrugs.
I want to say, I’m Dr. Anderson. Or I’m Lorien Anderson or anything besides yes, but, at this point, I just want out of here. “Yes?”
“As if it were a question,” Mr. Murphy mumbles under his breath next to me.
“Your husband has been vocal”—he clears his throat and slides his eyes to Liam before returning his focus on me—“about taking you home.”
I bet he has.
“We’re comfortable discharging you, but we urge you to return if anything feels off.
The swelling and bruising will get worse before it gets better.
Cold compresses will help. But if you experience any changes, do not hesitate to request care.
” The doctor looks at Liam and shakes his head, but speaks directly to him.
“We trust you will treat her wellbeing with the same urgency you treated her care.”
One curt nod is all the doctor gets in return.
“I’ll be back with your discharge papers and a wheelchair,” the nurse offers before leaving on the doctor’s heels.
“What did you do?” I hiss.
“Do you know what time it is?” he asks, rubbing his thumb and forefinger across his brow.
“Does that make a difference?”
“Babe.” That does not sound like a term of endearment on his lips. “It’s nearly midnight. I haven’t secured your place. I don’t know where your car is. I have hours of work ahead of me, and you haven’t eaten. And I’m assuming you’re going to work tomorrow. Am I right?”
Oh. I scrunch my nose. “Probably.”
“How confident are you that you’re up for driving in your current state?”
An eye squint joins my nose scrunch, and I shake my head.
“So, what time do I need to be awake to drive you?”
Wait. What?
“I see it’s registering but let me lay it out for you.
Once I get you home and you feel safe enough and tired enough to sleep, in between bouts of waking you up ‘in case’.
” He forms air quotes and somehow my eyes are stuck on that thick black band on his finger.
“I need to secure the house and the garage, make arrangements for your Accord. And”—he waits until my eyes find his— “find a way that this doesn’t happen again tomorrow. Or ever.”
I shiver. Again. Thwarted a break-in. Targeted.
I’ve had so much spinning out of control, I hadn’t thought of how I would feel back in my house knowing someone tried to break in. That the timing of everything is fishy.
It took most of what guts I had to stay in my house the night after move-in day. I bought a gun. No one knows that. Not even… I tilt my head staring at the man across from me, suck in a breath, and muster all the courage I have left. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
He holds my gaze, his ochre eyes looking straight through me, and nods. “Do you want the comfort of your own place or the security of mine?”
“Decide where we’re safest and we’ll go there. At least for tonight.”
He nods, extending his hand. “I’m going to go get the car and pull up at the exit. Or would you prefer I stay here and we go together?”
“Would you wait? Please? I’m sorry to ask.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m tired of being scared.”
His eyes are tractor beams that suck me in. I’m falling into them, falling into him.
“What’s with the tears?” His tenor is soothing and downright kind.
“Oh.” I wipe away the few that want to run with my palms, long past the stage where a finger will swipe them away. “I’m sorry.”
“They don’t bother me. And you don’t need to apologize. I’m… Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.”
I don’t know how to say it’s fine and I know better than to apologize for my own valid feelings.
I don’t say that it’s such a comfort to know I’m not alone, even if this marriage is fake.
I don’t say that this is the first time in a long time that anyone’s taken care of me and how pitiful it is that my neighbor, a man I barely know, is the one having to do it.
Shame and fear want to swallow me, but before they get the chance, the male nurse from earlier pops in with a wheelchair. He thrusts some papers at Liam, but speaks to me, “Are you ready to go?”
Liam’s bedroom is not at all what I imagined. Then again, I pictured an unlit black-and-red dungeon. The kind that Dracula himself would find a bit too goth.
Instead, I find the room to be much like the rest of the house—neutral, elegant, and masculine.
Where I have a tub in my bathroom, he has a walk-in shower with room for twelve.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration. But it’s huge, with stones grouted into the floor that feel more like a massage than they appear.
He ushered me in, asked if there was anything I needed, and left the moment I said I was good.
That was more than an hour ago.
I showered and changed into clothes I’d grabbed next door and slid under the covers, holding fast to the slightest sliver on the window side of the bed.
I don’t know if he has a side. I do and I tend to also have the middle.
When I get a king-sized mattress in a hotel, I always choose the side closest to the bathroom, but that’s because I don’t want to stub my toe in the middle of the night and the fewer obstacles the better. Especially with my… proclivities.
It’s dark and cold, and there’s white noise coming from somewhere. And I’m very wide awake.
I assumed I would pass out after all that.
I assumed my inability to stay awake this afternoon would kick in tonight too.
That would’ve been convenient. Instead, I got the you-napped-too-long-no-sleep-for-you body and the how-many-boogey-men-are-out-there mind.
So much so, I’d consider calling in sick tomorrow, but at least my mind will stay busy there.
If it’s functional at all.
I’ve tossed and turned so many times that no position is comfortable and there’s not a cool spot to lay in. Except the middle.
And that’s a hell-no zone.
I’m sure it’s stressors on the system, though usually those would be like adrenaline bottoming out.
Instead, my body has decided to revolt. I begin listing the elements of the periodic table by atomic number.
If I have to go alphabetical, I’ll never get to sleep.
I’m somewhere between Rhodium and Palladium when I look to the nightstand.
The clock shows nearly three in the morning, there’s no point in even pretending that I’ll get any sleep. I flip the covers back, meander to the door, and walk square into a wall of chest. “Oof.”
“Why are you up?” Liam asks low and brusque, but his hands steady me as I teeter. Always the juxtaposition with him.
“I can’t sleep. I was coming to—” What? Find him? No. Get a glass of water? I already have that. “I could be sleepwalking.”
His chest bounces against mine.
He spins me, pointing me back in the direction of the dark room. “Give me a sec?”
He said sec, right? Like second. Not sex. I’m sure he didn’t say sex. No one says a sex, like it’s singular. I’m back sitting on my side of the bed when he follows me in.
He sits down, long legs stretched out before him. “Seven will come early. Try to get some sleep. I’m here. You’re safe.”
There’s so much wrong with that sentence. I need to leave for work at seven, not wake up at seven. And how in the world am I supposed to sleep with him here? Safe is nice, but it’s not my body I’m worried about.
Or maybe it is.