Chapter Eight
Waverly
You could hear a pen drop for far too long after that jackass left. It makes me worry what he must be thinking. God, does he think I’m trying to…did it show on my face that I was thinking about him like that, like I shouldn’t be? Is that why the asshole said what he did?
I try to pull my hand from his, so he doesn't think I’m trying to make a move on him when he’s just trying to do his job.
It just so happens his job happens to be to…
what? Watch over me? That sounds too much like he cares.
Interview me? Is that what this was when I woke up, him just waiting on me to open my eyes so he can do his job and go back to wherever he needs to be?
Oh God! Have I kept him from a girlfriend? My eyes drop to his hand, but he’s not wearing a wedding ring, so I don’t think he’s married. The absence of a ring doesn’t mean he’s not married. Some men don’t like to wear one. Of course, some men cheat too or refer to their wives as a ball and chain.
I renew my efforts to release him, but he tightens his grip, and when I look up, those midnight blue eyes are staring down at me, making it hard to breathe.
“Um,” I try not to squirm under his blue gaze, but it’s not easy to do. “Can we do this tomorrow? I don’t...,” know what the hell I’m going to do. I clear my throat and try to find the words. “Really, Detective Wrath, I don’t…”
“Memphis. Call me Memphis.” Okay. “You did before.”
“I…,” a memory of low lights and his voice talking to me comes back in bits and pieces, blowing through my mind like wisps of smoke. “You asked me to call you that once before?”
He nods. “Yes, and you did. Do you remember waking up for a few minutes last night and talking to me?”
I remember arguing with someone about whether I was going to die or not.
“What time is it? I…I should, um, call…”
“Do you have someone you need to call? A parent or maybe a boyfriend?”
“No. I don’t have anyone like that. I have Sadie.”
“Good.” What now? Did he really just...? “That we didn’t forget to notify anyone about what happened to you.”
Oh. Damn. I lie to myself and say I’m not at all disappointed that for a brief moment it actually felt like maybe…
well, it’s stupid but I actually thought he might be asking me if I had a boyfriend because he was interested in me as more than just a witness.
Which would be so silly because he’s my friend’s brother and that would be totally uncool.
Plus he probably has a girlfriend waiting on him.
“You don’t have to stay with me. I’m sure you have someone to go home to, and I really can’t remember anything; even last night isn’t all that clear, and thinking about it hurts my head.”
“Sweetheart, there’s no damned place I’d rather be.”
Sweetheart. Is that like how my grandmother used to call everyone darling?
A pet name used interchangeably for everyone they meet.
Maybe he even does it so he doesn’t have to remember names.
Somehow that makes my stomach roll and my temper flare.
I pluck at a thread in the hospital blanket so I don’t do something horrible like smack him.
Not that I would have any reason to lay a finger on him.
It just irks me that he would call me sweetheart when he calls everyone that.
“Don’t call me sweetheart.”
“Baby girl.”
His face waves in front of me as my vision goes fuzzy and a memory of him standing over me comes back to me.
“You…,” I crinkle my brow together to try to grab parts of a conversation I thought I dreamed, “you called me that once before.”
“I called you that a bunch before.”
“You said…,” a sound of pain comes out as my head starts banging and shooting pain streaks through it. The pain is so severe it makes my stomach roll in protest.
“Hey, sweeth…baby, look, you don’t have to remember everything right away. You hit your head pretty hard.”
His words have my hand coming up to find the bandage on my head. “Do you…think I’ll ever get my memory of that night back?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and try to fight back the fear rising up inside of me. He steps closer to me and runs the back of his hand against my cheek. My breath catches, and fear is the last thing I'm feeling.
“I think when you feel safe enough, they’ll come back. It’s important not to force it.” He has my complete attention as he brushes my hair back behind my ear and cups my face in his big hands.
“And if you don’t, it doesn’t matter.” I’m pretty sure it definitely matters, more to some than others, but it still matters. Before I can say anything, his lips gently brush against mine and shock the words right out of my mind. “Because I’m here now, baby girl, and I won’t let anybody hurt you.”