Chapter Three
Cara
“You look like you’re the one who could use something for sleep.”
My head shoots up, and I stare blankly at Abby, who offers me a weak smile.
She’s lying in bed, a large blanket pulled up to her chest, and her eyes are locked on me.
She looks a little better than she did when she arrived yesterday, though her one eye is still swollen and her skin is still too pale.
She seems well-rested at least, when I, on the other hand, feel like a complete mess.
“Huh?” I hum, balancing the tray in my hands. The yogurt parfait wobbles precariously next to the steaming scrambled eggs as I carry the tray to the bedside table. “How did you sleep, Abby?”
“Surprisingly well,” she says. “Whatever Doc gave me knocked me out the second I closed my eyes.”
“And how are you feeling this morning?”
“I’m sore all over, but I feel…safe. Safer than I have in a while if I’m being honest,” she says, smiling shyly at her breakfast. “You didn’t have to do this. I don’t want to be an inconvenience anymore than—”
“You’re not,” I cut her off, nudging a spoon into her hand then moving to check the IV line Samantha set up once Abby was settled the night before.
“I’ve been in your position before. All the women here have experienced something similar to what you did.
I was hurt by the people who were supposed to take care of me, and I didn’t have anyone to turn to.
I was alone until I could get myself out.
” I adjust her blanket and pillow so I have something to do with my hands.
“I promised myself to be there for people going through the same thing I did. Most of us who work here do this because we want to. It’s not a burden at all. ”
She tilts her head to the side, her expression turning speculative. “If it’s not a burden, then why do you look so unhappy?”
“W-what?”
“You look tired, and there are dark circles under your eyes. You look like you didn’t sleep at all last night,” she says, hesitating as she dips her spoon into the yogurt parfait. “You don’t look so good, Cara. Is it because of me? Am I triggering bad memories?”
It’s true that I don’t feel well, but it has nothing to do with Abby.
My mouth feels dry and my eyes hurt from lack of sleep.
Christ, I tossed and turned in bed all night, dreading morning and the moment I would see James again.
I considered slipping out in the middle of the night like a thief and running, but where would I go?
I’ve found my place at Haven House, not just a roof over my head but a community that depends on me as much as I depend on them.
I belong here, and after I graduate from college, I plan on working here full time.
Despite this, I found myself thinking constantly of the packed bag in my closet. I keep it in case my stepfather ever finds me and I need to run.
I never imagined James would find me first.
“Cara, are you okay?”
“Sorry, yes, I’m fine. And no, my restless night wasn’t your fault. I’ve got something on my mind, but it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Abby’s brows draw in confusion. Leaning back against the pillows to watch me, she says carefully, “Doc seemed nice.”
“Oh?” I murmur, developing a sudden interest in my nails.
“He did,” she says. “I was nervous when he and Saint arrived. They’re so big and intimidating. But Doc has something about him that put me at ease. He seemed worried about you, though.”
My eyes shoot up in surprise at her words. “What? W-why would you think that?”
“He kept looking at you, like he was afraid you might disappear. I don’t think I would have noticed if I hadn’t been trying anything to distract myself from the pain, but he was just as focused on you as he was on me,” she says. “Do you know him well? I was trying to guess how old he is.”
Thirty-six, but I don’t tell her that. I’d have to explain how I know, and I would rather not touch that right now.
“He was probably just making sure I was keeping you distracted while he worked,” I say instead.
If James was looking at me, then it’s only because he was plotting ways to get revenge for what I did.
I’ve spent all night trying to figure out what I would do if I were in his position, and none of the answers were good.
Christ, it doesn’t help that the man I’m indebted to is a walking wet dream.
Abby’s voice pulls me back to the present. “You were looking at him too. You were a little more subtle than he was, but I caught it.”
“Abby…”
The sound of heavy footsteps approaching the door sends my heart drumming hard in my chest, and I push up to my feet in panic at the knock.
Maybe it’s not him. I noticed a leather jacket on the chair in the corner when I walked in and recall that Ransom had insisted on keeping watch over Abby last night.
He must still be around here somewhere, so it’s probably him coming to retrieve his jacket.
“Cara, hey, you’re shaking,” Abby whispers, reaching up to take my hand. I hear the tremor in her voice, and the last thing I want to do is scare her, so I force myself to take a deep breath.
The knob turns, and then slowly, like a horror movie scene, the door swings inward with a soft groan, and my breath hitches as a pair of dark boots step into the room.
He fills the doorway, a dark silhouette against the hallway light.
He’s wearing a black shirt today, rolled up to his elbows to reveal a tapestry of tattoos snaking up his arms. My heart pounds frantically as I take in the sight of him, that short hair slicked back and the way the light catches the sharp angles of his face.
I shouldn’t notice the way his jeans fit snugly or just how the shirt stretches over his shoulders.
I realize that I’m trembling again, but it has little to do with fear this time.
Desire slowly seeps through my body, leaving me a trembling mass of need. Made worse when those carefully blank eyes lock on mine.
“Good morning, ladies,” he says, voice deep and rough as he steps into the room. “Abby, how are you feeling?”
“Better,” she says, looking between us, clearly noticing the weird tension in the room. Hard not to when it’s practically floating in the air, thick enough to cut.
I want to go. Run away. Hide.
My hands tremble as I collect the breakfast tray.
“I’ll, um, leave you to it,” I say hurriedly, but before I can get through the door, a hand grasps my arm, stopping me.
I freeze to the floor, my head swimming with fear and my body burning with heat from his touch. Both emotions equally overwhelming.
“Stay,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I’m sure Abby will be more comfortable with you in the room.”
I look back at Abby, whose nervous fingers are twisting the blanket over her lap, and then back at the man, swallowing at having those dark eyes firmly on me. “Okay.”
His eyes linger on me a couple of seconds longer before his hand drops, and I wait until he turns away to shudder out a breath.
I give it a few more seconds for my heart to stop hammering in my chest before turning around.
Slowly, I place the tray back down on the side table and lower myself on a seat, intent on staying invisible.
James drops a brown leather Gladstone bag on the bed and opens it to reveal a variety of medical instruments and supplies.
“Tell me, Abby, did you have trouble sleeping last night?” he asks, walking to the opposite side of the bed to check her wounds, and I find my mind drifting as I stare at the man that scares me as much as he turns me on.
Is it a wonder that I would be attracted to the one person who saved me?
That I would allow myself to be lost in the soothing rasp of his voice as he speaks, a deep rumble that works to ignite and soothe parts of me.
I’ve never been attracted to anyone before this moment, afraid to fall for someone like my stepfather or stepbrother with their wild tempers and dark hearts.
In the three years I’ve been on my own, I’ve met so many men like them and the women they left with scars on their bodies and minds that will never fully heal.
It only makes sense that I would resign myself to being alone forever.
It’s fate's idea of a cruel joke for me to be drawn to the last man I should be.
“I think we can lose the IV. There are no signs of infection, but I’ll stop by again to check up on you,” he says, straightening up, and I realize that I’ve completely missed him redressing her wounds with fresh bandages and Abby taking her pain meds.
“I’m leaving you with a balm for the bruising.
Make sure you get enough rest and don’t hesitate to ask for me if you’re in pain. ”
“Thanks, Doc.” Abby offers the man a hesitant smile, and I sit up, a part of me hoping that he’ll simply leave, but instead, he turns to me. I drop my hands on my lap and wait for him to finally address me.
“Miss Dupree.” Oh God, here it comes. “I would like a moment of your time.”
“My…m-mine?”
“Yes, in private.”
Oh, God.
What could he possibly want from me if not some kind of revenge? Is he going to make me leave? This shelter is owned by the Steel Rebels. If he wanted me out, certainly they’d support him. Right?
This place is the closest thing to home I’ve ever known. I don’t want to leave, but I will if he demands it. He’s the club medic, so our paths would be bound to cross again if I stay. I owe it to him to disappear from his life at the very least.
“Okay,” I offer meekly, slowly climbing to my feet. “We…uh, can talk in the hallway.” Where anyone could walk by and see us.