Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
MIA
A s I tie the green ribbon in my hair, my first thought is of Jamison. Who am I kidding? I can’t do anything without thinking of him. Not for the first time I wonder if there’s something wrong with me. I shouldn't be this obsessed.
When I cinch the ribbon, I try not to analyze that I chose this color because I know he doesn’t have it. Will he want this one too? And if so, how is he going to steal it from me? The anticipation makes my nipples harden. I’m not sure I’ll get to be alone with him again. At least not for a while.
“Mia!” Emily shouts before swinging my bedroom door open without knocking. I’m starting to miss living in my dorm. Even though I had to share my room, they weren’t as intrusive as Emily can be. I’m supposed to have my own space here. Personal space, however, is not a concept Emily is aware of.
“Can’t you knock? What if I was undressed?”
"We're both nurses, and I've seen it all." Emily tosses a package at me, and I catch it. As it lands in my hands, a book falls out and hits the floor.
“You opened my mail?” I try to keep the irritation out of my voice, but I’m not sure I’m able to.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Emily shrugs; her expression reveals no remorse. “That’s some kinky shit you got there.”
I bend down and grab the book. “So you opened my mail and then went through it?”
She looks me up and down as if reassessing something. “I didn’t think you’d be into that kind of shit.”
“It’s just a book,” I say defensively. I'm not sure whether I'm into it or not. I've always gravitated toward darker romances, but everyone has their favorite tropes. Just because I also enjoy a secret baby romance doesn’t mean I want to get knocked up. Right? Well, maybe it’s better not to go there.
“Really? It’s a kinky-ass book with a hero that’s over the top with his obsession.”
“How much did you read?” I know how the hero is. I’ve read Dracula: The Story of D a dozen times in my life. It’s one of my favorites.
The hero can’t function without the heroine. He’ll leave nothing but death and destruction in his wake if someone tries to keep her from him. It’s beyond messed up, but it’s fiction, and that makes it okay. Until the reader begins to yearn for it.
“It might have come yesterday.” Emily shrugs before leaning against my bedroom door. Of course it came yesterday. “If you’re into that kind of stuff, I know a club.”
“A club?” I sit down on the edge of my bed to put my shoes on.
“A sex club.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me.
“Ah, I’m not sure about that.”
“Think on it. You’d be a big hit.”
“Really?” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I don’t know if I’d ever be comfortable going to a sex club, but why would she think I’d be a big hit?
“You’re a virgin, right?” Heat rushes to my face, giving her the answer. “That’s what I thought.” She laughs, and it’s clearly directed at me.
“I’ve got to go.” I grab my book and shove it into my work bag.
“Your shift isn’t for another hour.”
“I’ve got to run some errands,” I lie.
“What kind?”
Jeez, what’s with all the questions? “I’ll see you later,” I respond because I don’t want to answer her.
When I exit our apartment, I use the stairs. The last time I got on the elevator, I accidentally bumped into Dr. Crane. I don’t need him asking me a million questions today either. Especially where I’m going. The library might not sound like a strange place to visit, but the reason I’m going isn’t exactly innocent. I may also be a little paranoid because I don't want to do this on my own computer.
When I enter the library, I smile at the lady at the front desk before finding a computer toward the back. The place is fairly empty, so finding a private desk isn’t difficult. I pull out the slip of paper from my bag with Jamison’s full name and date of birth, along with his father’s name.
The first thing I do is enter his father’s name, and I’m shocked at the results. The first thing to pop up are images of Harvey Coy. There’s no missing the resemblance between him and Jamison. I click through a few of the images and see that the first one is several years old. As I keep clicking, I notice time hasn’t been kind to Harvey.
“Oh god,” I whisper to myself when I see why Harvey Coy is such a searchable name. He’s a lawyer, although he doesn’t practice anymore. His firm is huge, and I scan through articles hoping to find something about Jamison.
My heart sinks when I find an article about Jamison’s mother. The picture at the top shows a younger Jamison, maybe in his teens, standing next to his father at her funeral.
The news article says she was a nurse before becoming a stay-at-home mom with her only child, Jamison. I pause when I read that her death was caused by sudden adult death syndrome, better known as SADS. Medical examiners hate putting that as the cause of death, but sometimes there are no other options.
I scroll back to the top to see the picture of Jamison at her funeral. He looks so damn sad, and it breaks my heart for him. What's strange is the space between him and his father. At a time when they should be comforting each other, he looks all alone in this world.
I’m about to close the article when I look at the picture one last time, and a familiar face catches my attention. I was so focused on Jamison that I didn’t notice the person standing on the other side of Harvey Coy.
“What the hell?” I say to myself, and the alert on my phone goes off. It’s a reminder that I need to head to work now so that I’m not late.
I grab my things but manage to save the picture and email it to myself before I log out. The whole way to work I’ve got an eerie feeling I can’t shake. I need to know more.
When I get to work, I go straight to the locker room and put my bag away. Before I close it, I take out the book I ordered and thumb through it. When I find my favorite passage, I pull the ribbon from my hair and use it as a bookmark.
Before I go to the nurses’ station, I sneak into Jamison’s room and place the book on his pillow. He’s always in the group room at this time, but just in case, I don’t linger.
It’s a little while after Oliva has gone over her notes at shift change that I have a second to think about what I saw at the library. Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but the back of my neck is still tingling from seeing Dr. Crane at the funeral with his hand on Harvey Coy’s shoulder.