Chapter 4
Chapter Four
KRUGER
I hear her breath hitch in her chest. She’s not as unaffected by me as she pretends to be.
She swallows the pills before parting her lips for the glass once more. I tip it up and hold it for her as she drinks. Watching her swallow makes my cock throb with need as I picture her swallowing something else.
Eventually, she pulls back. I place the glass on the floor, out of the way, and reach down to pick her up and carry her to the sofa.
She groans, making me stop.
“You okay?”
“Trying not to throw up the pills you just gave me,” she admits, sounding miserable. If she were feeling like her usual self, she’d have dive-bombed out of my arms by now.
I lower her to the sofa before grabbing the wastepaper basket and putting it on the floor beside her, just in case.
“Maybe you should try eating something—something light.”
She frowns but nods before gingerly lying down on the couch and curling into a ball.
I look her over for a second, feeling wildly out of my depth. I’ve never taken care of anyone before. Well, if you don’t count that goldfish I won from the state fair when I was a kid. I didn’t. It died within a week.
I swallow before heading to the kitchen, hoping I don’t fuck things up more. At this point, I’m not sure how I could make it worse.
I rummage through the cupboards and settle on tomato soup and grilled cheese, something that’s comforting and relatively easy for her to eat.
I keep my eye on her while I cook, but she doesn’t stir.
It’s unnerving, to say the least. Once I’m done, I place it all on a tray and carry it over to the couch, then set it on the coffee table.
I rub my fingers across her cheek, pausing when her eyes snap open.
For a second, it’s as if she doesn’t know where she is.
Her eyes focus on me, and she takes in a shuddering breath.
“Food’s ready.”
She tries to move, so I help her sit up before grabbing the tray and placing it on her lap.
She stares down at the food, looking unsure for a moment, before she reaches for the spoon, all without a word.
She scoops up a spoonful of soup, but her hands are shaking so badly that the soup sloshes everywhere.
I gently take the spoon and dip it in her soup before raising it to her lips.
She hesitates before opening her mouth, a pink blush covering her cheeks.
She avoids looking me in the eye as I continue to spoon-feed her a little more before dipping the grilled cheese in her soup and urging her to take a bite.
“How you feeling?”
She shrugs but keeps chewing. This Delphi is seemingly at odds with the version that stumbled down the stairs before.
I shut up, content to watch her eat. Once she’s done, I reach up without thought and use my thumb to swipe the bit of tomato soup from her bottom lip.
I slip my thumb into my mouth and lick it clean.
She watches me with wide, confused eyes before taking a shaky breath and turning away.
“Thank you for the food. I think it’s time for me to leave, though. I’m feeling much better.” Her voice has taken on an odd robotic quality that makes the hair on my arms stand on end.
I take the tray into the kitchen and return with a fresh bottle of water. I open it and hand it to her. Her hand still shakes as she takes it from me, but not as much as before.
“Why don’t you rest for a little longer?”
“All I’ve done is rest for a month. I have to get back to normal.”
“You had fucking brain surgery, Delphi. Twice. Cut yourself some slack.”
She tips her head up to look at me but says nothing.
“You want me to carry you back upstairs, or do you want to stay here on the couch?”
“I want to go home,” she replies, her voice small and nothing like the Delphi I know.
“And where’s home, Delphi?” I ask her, which is a dick thing to do.
A look of anger crosses her face, and something akin to relief fills me. This is the Delphi I’m more familiar with.
“Why would I risk finding another home for you just to burn it down when you get pissed at me again?”
I wince. “That’s not—”
She holds up her hand. “If you tell me that’s not what happened, I’ll scream. Do you have any idea what it feels like to—” She sucks in a deep breath, snapping off whatever she was going to say. Her eyes go glassy, but she focuses on me, not bothering to hide her pain as she usually does.
“You act like it’s just something for me to move on from, to get over. Spoken like someone who has never had to drag themselves up by their bloody fingertips before.”
“You think I got this playing with toy cars?” I snap, running my fingers over my scars. I’m being a defensive asshole, but I can’t help it.
“No, I think you got that because you were reckless and cocky and didn’t think things through. Sound familiar?”
I fist my hands and stand up. When I see regret flash across her face, I realize she’s lashing out on purpose. She thinks if she pisses me off, I’ll be happy to see the back of her.
Not a fucking chance.
“Bed or sofa, Delphi. Because if I have to choose, it will always be bed.”
She splutters, but no actual words come out, making me chuckle at how flustered I’m making her. Perhaps that’s the key to getting through to her—keeping her off-balance.
“I’m not staying here, Kruger.”
“You need someone to look after you, and that someone is going to be me.”
“Who the fuck died and made you the boss of me?”
“Snake did, and good fucking riddance.”
She recoils as if I struck her, making me regret what I said, even if it is the truth.
“Delphi.”
“Bed. I can make it on my own, though.” She gets to her feet.
Before she can argue with me some more, I pick her up and carry her back upstairs.
This time, she doesn’t turn into me. She holds herself as far from me as she can while staying in my grip.
Her body is rock-solid with tension, and the second I put her on the bed, she scrambles away from me.
“Delphi—”
“I’m tired. Please leave.”
The urge to say something, anything to make it right, claws at me, but I can hear the tears in her voice. And what the fuck would I even say?
I let out a frustrated breath and run my fingers through my hair. “Alright, rest. I’ll be back to check on you later.”
She doesn’t reply, keeping her back to me, which I take as the dismissal it is.
I leave her alone, closing the door with a soft snick and head back downstairs.
I clean up the mess from cooking and grab a bottle of beer before settling on the couch.
I flick on the TV for background noise and aimlessly browse until a program about custom cars catches my attention.
I kick my feet up on the table and swig my beer.
Hearing my phone chime, I pull it out of my pocket and see it’s Havoc.
“Hey, something wrong?”
“The security system for Au is down. I can’t get hold of Midas, and as you had it set up, figured you might be able to sort it out.”
“Shit. Can’t really leave Delphi, you know that.”
“Can’t leave the alarms blaring either. Besides, it’s Delphi’s place now, according to Midas. So I don’t think it would go down well with her if something happens to it and we did nothing.”
I curse, knowing he’s right.
“I’ll send one of the prospects over to watch her.”
“These prospects are green as new money. Not sure they’d be much good against Delphi’s sharp tongue, let alone anything else.”
He laughs. “Gotta toughen them up somehow. Saying that, though, they’ll wait outside and keep an eye on the place. You’ll be in and out in thirty minutes. I know there’s been a lot of shit swirling around the club, but there is no threat to Delphi.”
My shoulders slump. Even though I hate fucking leaving her, I can’t ignore my president when he asks me to do something.
“Tell the prospect to message me when he gets here.”
I hang up and toss my cell phone on the table. So much for being out of commission for a little while. Didn’t even go a fucking day without the club needing me for something. Usually, I don’t mind. The club is my life. But I’ve let Delphi down so many times that I don’t want to do that anymore.
I take another swig of my beer before putting it down on the table.
I’ll finish it off when I get back. I haven’t even had a chance to show Delphi around yet.
None of this unfolded as I expected. I wonder how she’ll view it here.
Will it become a safe haven where she can heal, or have I inadvertently built her another prison?
“Fuck.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees.
I kept the room light and airy, even though my tastes tend to run a little darker.
I remember the bold colors used in Delphi and Snake’s home, and I wanted to steer far away from that so I didn’t trigger any memories.
I had the walls freshly painted in a soft cream color.
Pampas or something, according to the woman at the hardware store.
Fuck knows, it’s cream to me. What I know, is it feels less sterile than the previous white, and when teamed with the coffee-colored oversized sofa and chair, as well as the chocolate rug, it adds depth and warmth to the room.
The furniture is oak, including the coffee table, side table, and floor lamp, which creates a matching set like an advertisement for Pottery Barn.
The large wall-mounted TV is the only thing overly modern in the room, but I’m not sure I could do without a TV.
It’s not that I don’t read, it’s that I have the attention span of a hyperactive squirrel.
I get a couple of chapters in and lose focus completely.