22. Theresa
Theresa opened the door to her apartment Saturday afternoon, her stomach fluttering as she took in the sight of her boyfriend standing there. He hadn’t planned on stopping by until later that afternoon, but she’d styled her hair and put on cute clothes this morning in case he stopped by unexpectedly. She wasn’t going to be caught looking bad in front of him again.
She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, noticing several scrapes and scratches on his face that hadn’t been there last night. “You ok?” she asked as she pulled back, letting him walk past her into the apartment.
He nodded, his face grim as he walked carefully to her living room and sat slowly on her couch. She recognized that stiff type of movement. Pain.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded, looking down at him as he sat on the couch, his hand settling protectively over his right rib area.
“Rough time at work.”
“Want to talk about it?” she asked hesitantly before noticing a thin white bracelet on his wrist. She sat on the couch next to him, grabbing his arm and jerking it away from his ribs. “Derek! What happened?”
“I’m fine.”
“Why were you at the hospital?”
“There’s something I need to tell you, and I want you to listen. It’s not good.”
“Are you sick?” She let go of his wrist and grabbed his head, pressing her cheek against his forehead. “You don’t have a fever. What’s wrong?”
“I had a showing this morning at an abandoned house that was condemned a few weeks ago.”
“Derek, I don’t care about your work right now. What’s wrong with you? Do you need to lie down?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine, really. Just a cracked rib and some bruises. But I need you to listen?—”
“Just a cracked rib?” Her voice went up an octave. “Were you in a car accident?”
He winced. “No, I’m fine. I took my clients to an abandoned property and—what are you doing?”
She pressed her fingers against his wrist, counting his pulse as she watched the seconds pass on her watch. Slightly elevated, but strong. A little flashlight was in her nightstand, for emergencies, so she ran out of the room to grab that. He remained on the couch, silent with a scowl on his face, as she used the flashlight to check his pupils. Even though he wore a patient ID bracelet from the hospital, she needed to see for herself that he was ok.
“Take off your shirt,” she instructed him as she reached for the bottom hem. “I want to see where you broke your rib.”
“Theresa.” He stopped her, his fingers wrapping around her. “The first time I let you take off my shirt will not be for a medical exam. Listen. Please.”
Something in his voice caught her attention, and she looked at him. “You’re ok?” Those stupid tears made her eyes sting again, but for once, she didn’t care if he realized how she felt. “I mean, I thought we liked each other. You should have called me from the hospital.” She swallowed hard, not sure if she was more upset that he’d been hurt or that he’d been alone. “I would have come.”
“I know. I’m ok. I promise. But I really need to tell you something. Will you listen?”
She nodded, not fully trusting her voice at the moment.
“I went to an abandoned house this morning with some clients. Someone was using the property for temporary shelter. No one knew, and I guess we scared her. She attacked us.”
“You were attacked this morning?” She gasped, reaching for the hem of his shirt again to remove it and check for injuries. She needed to see for herself that he was alright. “Did you call the police? Did they arrest whoever did this to you? We need to press charges. You could have been killed.”
He didn’t put up a fight this time as she raised his shirt over his head, taking in the scratches and bruising on his chest. He tried to pull away as she touched one of the larger bruises over his right ribs. “Does it hurt? I’ll get you ice.”
“Stop. Sit, Theresa. I’m more worried about you right now. You need to hear this. Stop worrying about me.”
Theresa bit her lip. He was the injured one here. Why would he need to worry about her? “You got attacked by someone who illegally moved into an abandoned house, and you are worried about me? Why? Was it someone I know? One of the regulars at the soup kitchen? It wouldn’t be the first time one of the diners got into legal trouble, and it won’t be the last. I don’t know why you’d be worried about me.”
Derek opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Wincing, he angled his body towards her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders despite the searing pain. “Theresa, please believe me. I didn’t want to call the police. My clients did before I got a good look at the woman. They had to arrest her. She had several stolen wallets, IDs, and credit cards on her. Some stolen property was stored in the house too.”
“Are you saying . . .” A wave of nausea rolled over her as she fought to find the words. He couldn”t be talking about her twin. If Val was in the city, close enough to find temporary shelter in an abandoned building that Derek would show to clients, why wouldn”t she have contacted Theresa? “You saw Val? My sister attacked you?”
“I didn’t hurt her. She’s fine. Well, no broken bones or injuries from the attack.”
“But . . . she broke your rib?”
“She attacked me from behind. I lost balance and fell hard on a rock. She wasn’t armed.”
Her stomach clenched. He had more bruises on his torso than someone would get from falling and hitting a rock. “Was she high?”
Derek’s pause gave her the answer. “I think she thought we were going to attack her. She had some things with her. I think she wanted to keep her belongings safe.”
“Did she . . . did she say anything about me?”
“I didn’t ask. I thought you’d want to talk to her in person.”
“You know where she is?” She held her breath, not sure anymore if she wanted to know. But Val was her twin, her family.
“The police are holding her in the detention center downtown. We can visit on Monday. I’ll take you.”
Theresa nodded, her gaze falling away from Derek’s face. She couldn’t ask him to go with her. Val seemed to get her way when it came to her and Theresa. It wasn’t when she wanted to talk to her, to see how she was doing. No, Val had to attack her boyfriend and get sent to jail in order for them to talk. “No, you don’t need to be nice about this. You can go home now. I know you said some nice things to me last night, but I won’t hold you to it. This is my mess.”
“Theresa.” His voice came out as more of a demand than a question. She looked down at her hands, pulling back from him as he winced from the movement of keeping his arm on her shoulder.
“I”m sorry, I really didn’t mean for you to get involved in any of this. Or hurt. You don’t owe me anything. I’ll just… I’ll leave you alone.”
“Stop.” He sounded angry. “Don’t blame yourself for what Val chose to do. Don’t you dare think that I’ll get scared away from you this easily. Do not,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word, “use this as an excuse to run away from me.”
“But—”
“Don’t do it, Theresa. I’m tired, my side hurts, and I’m not getting up from your couch. Hand me the remote and lets watch one of those K-dramas that you told me about the other day.”
He settled back, looking at her expectantly. He wanted to stay? After what her sister did to him?
“I should go to the police station now.”
“Monday. They said no visitors over the weekend.”
“At least to bail her out.”
“I already asked. They found some things on the property, and won’t set bail until they’ve finished investigating a few things. There’s nothing we can do for her until then. Remote?”
She passed the small black remote to him, carefully avoiding his gaze which meant looking down at his abs. Abs that were surprisingly nice. Like the type of abs that she’d only touched in dreams. Where had he been hiding them? If he hadn’t been so bruised and in obvious pain, she’d confiscate his shirt the same way she’d confiscated his speaker in the past. Or simply wear it herself. But instead, she handed it back, bending down to kiss him gently before stopping as he winced in pain.
“I’m so sorry, let me put that back on for you.”
“This better be the only time I hear you say those words.”
She smiled, feeling a little better about the situation. But the pain in the pit of her stomach remained, thinking about Monday.