10. Chapter Ten Ruby #2
"Okay," I said. "If she wakes up and seems scared, just remind her that I’m coming back soon. Make sure she drinks water—I don’t think she’s had much today. And if her fever gets worse, call me immediately. Stay with her until Julian’s free—don’t leave her alone.”
"Got it," Hannah said, her voice calm and reassuring. "She’ll be okay, Ruby. I’ll keep an eye on her. I promise."
I hesitated, glancing at Rosie one last time. "She might not trust you right away. She’s…shy with new people."
"I understand," Hannah said gently. "I’ve worked with plenty of kids who needed time to feel comfortable. I’ll take care of her."
I wanted to believe her. I really did. But part of me still braced for the worst. "And…don’t let anyone else near her, okay? Just you and Julian’s assistants. No one else. And obviously, Julian. This is what he looks like."
I showed her a picture of him on my phone. My hand shook slightly as I held it up, but I pretended it didn’t. Hannah gave a firm nod.
"Understood."
For a moment, the weight of that simple word steadied me. Not entirely, but enough. I glanced back at Rosie, who was now curled up on her side. She looked so small, so fragile. But she was safe—for now.
I swallowed hard and forced my feet to move, turning toward the door.
The pain pulsed relentlessly through my hand, making me lightheaded, but I had to push through it.
I had to trust that this was enough, that leaving her here would keep her protected.
Even if it felt like I was tearing away a piece of myself.
I stepped into the hallway, the door clicking softly shut behind me.
For a moment, I leaned back against the wall, pressing my good hand to my forehead.
The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, making the edges of my vision blur.
My hand burned with a deep, throbbing ache that refused to let up. Every second I waited made it worse.
I had to get to urgent care.
I called the elevator with my good hand and barely noticed the security guard telling me to have a good day as I stepped outside the building.
The pain was making me shaky, and I knew I couldn't drive like this—not with one hand barely functional. I reached for my phone in my pocket, fumbling to unlock it with trembling fingers. A ride service? Maybe I could call one of Julian’s assistants again—
"What's the plan now?"
I froze, my body going rigid at the sound of that voice.
I turned slowly and saw him—Kieran. He was leaning casually against my car, hands in his pockets, as if he had all the time in the world.
His expression was ambivalent, but his eyes—those dark, unsettling eyes—were locked on mine, sharp and intense.
My heart sped up, a mix of anger and fear clawing at my chest. "Are you stalking me, or is this another one of your ‘coincidences’?" I demanded, striding toward him despite the pain in my hand.
"Relax," he said, his tone maddeningly calm. "Hannah drove because you can’t. I figured I’d wait and make sure you were taken care of."
“So you followed me here in your car?”
“My schedule opened up today,” he said.
“Okay, in that case, you thought you’d use your time off to stalk your ex?”
He smirked. “Ah…is that what we are? Never realized we were official.”
I scowled, but I knew it wasn’t nearly as biting as I wanted it to be; I felt like shit.
“Also, Hannah is going to need a way to get home tonight,” Kieran said. “I can leave my keys in the car…”
"I’m not worried about Hannah getting home. You’re here because you want to make sure I’m taken care of?" I echoed, incredulous. "You figured wrong. I don’t need your help."
"You’re about to call a stranger to take you to urgent care. That looks nasty. No taxi driver is going to want you in their car bleeding like this," he replied, unfazed by my glare. "I’m already here. Let me take you.”
I stared at him, the fury bubbling just beneath the surface. "You think this means I owe you something?"
He shook his head. "No. You owe me nothing."
The words stopped me cold.
Because he didn’t say it like a line. He said it like a fact. Like it didn’t matter whether I hated him or not, whether I thanked him or not. He wasn’t here to bargain.
That somehow made it worse.
I hated how sincere he sounded. How steady. How fucking right.
"You’re hurt,” he added. “That’s all that matters.”
He stepped closer, and the air between us snapped taut. I could smell him now—soap and leather and heat. Too close. Too familiar.
And I didn’t trust him…not even a little.
But I also couldn’t ignore the truth.
I was bleeding. My head was spinning. And I couldn’t get behind the wheel like this.
Against my better judgment, I found myself nodding, the fight leaving me in a slow, reluctant exhale. "Fine. But don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. I know you. I know you don’t do favors."
He cracked a smile. "Aw…Rubes. Now you’re just trying to hurt my feelings.”
He opened the passenger door for me without another word, waiting patiently as I climbed in. The movement sent another jolt of pain through my hand, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from crying out. Kieran closed the door gently and walked around to the driver’s side.
I leaned my head back against the seat, my breath unsteady.
The car started with a low rumble, and we pulled away from the building in silence.
I kept my eyes on the road ahead, trying to focus on anything but the man sitting beside me.
His presence was overwhelming, suffocating in a way that made me feel both exposed and strangely… safe.
"How bad is it?" he asked after a few minutes, his voice low and hesitant.
I didn’t want to answer. I didn’t want to admit that I was in agony. "It’s fine," I said through gritted teeth.
"You’re a terrible liar when you’re in pain," he said, glancing over at me. "Is the bleeding under control?"
I swallowed hard, refusing to meet his gaze. "It’ll hold until we get there."
Kieran sighed softly, like he wasn’t buying it but decided not to push.
The rest of the ride was quiet, the tension between us stretching thin and brittle.
I focused on the rhythm of the cars passing by, the way the city blurred into streaks of color.
The pain was still there, relentless, but I forced myself to endure it.
I had to. I couldn’t afford to fall apart—not now.
When we finally pulled into the urgent care parking lot, Kieran parked and shut off the engine before climbing out. He was opening my door for me before I could stop him, meeting his eyes with a withering glare.
“I’m fine,” I bit out.
“You’re not,” he pressed. “And if you don’t let me help you, Marquez, I’m going to pick you up and carry you kicking and screaming into this clinic.”
I growled under my breath.
“Well?” he said. “What’s it gonna be?”
I steeled myself and got out of the car, letting him take my arm.
“You’re an asshole,” I grumbled.
He snorted. “Yeah…and you love it.”
I didn’t love it. But despite myself, there was comfort in him. Comfort in this. In his cockiness, in how easy and familiar this banter felt.
In him.
And I didn’t know why, but that worried me. It worried me almost more than the cut in my hand.