Chapter 42
Ifelt—strangely wired.
While he was showering, it felt almost impossible to busy myself for some reason. I couldn’t pick a show, so I tried a book instead, but my mind wouldn’t settle. I unpacked a few things, then ended up shoving them right back into my suitcase. I felt jittery, like I’d had a few cups of caffeine.
Eventually, I ended up back on the sofa, the blanket wrapped around me, flipping aimlessly through channels.
Then I heard the bathroom door unlock, and my eyes immediately flicked toward it.
Jay stepped out, and thankfully, he was fully dressed in a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. His wet hair was slicked back from his face, curling slightly at the edges. He still held a towel, dabbing at his neck and ears.
“Gave up on the TV, I see,” he said, coming over to sit on the other end of the sofa.
“Yeah. Sorry,” I admitted.
A long pause stretched between us, and I resisted the urge to bite my nails.
“Well, it’s only six.” He checked the time on his phone. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes,” I answered immediately.
“Want to order a pizza?” he suggested.
I nodded. “I’d like that.”
He smiled, the awkwardness easing slightly as he stood and went to the phone.
Maybe I wasn’t jittery after all. Perhaps I was just hungry.
He looked entirely too nonchalant, leaning against the table, phone pressed to his ear.
“Are you going to be mad if I get pineapple on the pizza?” he asked.
“Are you going to be mad when I tell you I’m allergic to pineapple?” I said.
He paused. “You’re not allergic to pineapple.”
“Aren’t I?” I raised a brow.
His eyes narrowed, but a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, hello,” he said into the phone. “I’d like to order a large pizza, please.”
As he listened, he mouthed, “You’re a liar,” at me.
I bit my lip to keep from smiling.
“Yes,” he continued, “pepperoni, olives, and pineapple.”
My eyebrow shot up. He shook his head and turned away to finish the order.
“Thank you. Yes—room 207. Perfect. Have a good night.”
He hung up and turned back to face me.
“I can’t believe you didn’t let me pick the pizza,” I said, feigning offense. Truthfully, I liked almost anything on pizza—but giving him a hard time was far more satisfying.
“I’m the boss,” he said, sitting back down beside me and turning on the TV again.
“Oh,” I said lightly. “Is that the game we’re playing now?”
“This is technically a work trip.”
I snorted. “Is this how your work trips usually go? Sleeping in the same room, ordering pizza, sitting next to your employees while they watch TV in skimpy Victoria’s Secret pajamas?”
“I, for one, am not wearing skimpy Victoria’s Secret pajamas,” he said factually.
I glanced down at myself and groaned. “Any professionalism we had left was vanquished the moment I put on lace trim.”
“Vanquished?” He lifted a brow, eyes fixed on Shark Tank playing on the screen.
“I’m trying to make a point.”
“Oh, I got the point.”
I exhaled, then finally said it. “This is weird, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He turned to look at me finally, his navy eyes softening. “Relájate, Hope.”
“I can’t,” I said, biting my lip.
His brow furrowed. “Are you afraid I won’t be a gentleman?”
“No. That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?” he asked, his voice lowering.
That—I thought wildly—that voice.
“It’s just—” I trailed off.
My pulse was going crazy. Being in this room with Jay was making everything feel… blurry. And I needed my lines to stay sharp.
“Oh, Amapolita,” he murmured. “Does the way I talk to you make you nervous?”
Fire threaded through my veins at his words.
For a second, I literally struggled to breathe.
“Okay. This was a very bad idea.” I lifted the blanket, about to make a run for it—but he reached out, his hand landing gently on my knee, stopping me.
“Don’t go,” he said quickly.
All the teasing was gone now, his expression completely serious. “The pizza will be here any minute. We’ll eat, then go to bed. Nothing is going to happen.”
He looked like he was trying not to spook a startled animal.
The problem was… I was spooked. I was utterly terrified of the way he made me feel. We kept slipping into deep conversations. Things I didn’t talk to anyone about. And it felt good. It felt right, and it was making me feel so confused.
I drew in a shaky breath. “Jay—”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “That wasn’t fair.”
“It wasn’t,” I whispered.
“I’ll behave for the rest of the night,” he promised. “I swear.”
My eyes narrowed.
“You’re lucky I like pineapple on my pizza.”
A few hours later, we’d successfully devoured twelve pieces of pizza and seven episodes of Shark Tank.
The adrenaline and anxiousness from the day eventually wore off. The pizza definitely helped me feel more normal again.
He was true to his word and simply sat beside me the rest of the evening. No teasing. No remarks. He simply leaned against the cushions, one knee bent, forearm resting casually over the arm of the couch.
At some point, I stopped holding the blanket like armor and let it pool around my legs instead. And before long, my eyes started to feel extremely heavy.
The fatigue from the long day settled over my bones and swiftly dragged me under. By ten, I was fast asleep.
I stirred only slightly when I felt two arms slide beneath my knees and spine. I was lifted from the sofa, and it transported me back to when I was a kid. That feeling when you’d fall asleep in the car and your mom or dad would carry you into bed?
Something like that. And as my tired, half-asleep mind wandered back to the simple life of childhood—before everything had gotten so hard—it actually made me feel sad.
I whimpered, wishing just for a small moment I could go back in time. Before adulthood. Before things got so messed up.
“Shhhh, mi amor. Solo duerme.”
The weight of a blanket fell over my body, and my cheek met a pillow. Then I completely drifted into darkness again, foggy childhood memories the backdrop for my dreams that gradually turned into nightmares.
“Why can’t you do anything right?”
Dr. Pike’s angry growl echoed through my head. His words were laced with disgust.
The overhead light burned white spots into my vision as I stared at the patient’s open mouth. My gloves were slick with sweat, my hands shaking.
“I—I’m sorry,” I tried to say, but the words came out muddled.
He laughed bitterly.
“Sorry doesn’t make you competent, Hope.”
Then the instrument tray went flying. Instruments scattered across the floor, clattering as they hit the walls. A mirror bounced off my shoe, and the scaler nicked my arm. There was the sharp sting of pain, and I tried to step back, but my feet felt like they were stuck in quicksand.
Dr. Pike leaned in, his lip pulling back from his teeth in a sneer—like a predator about to strike. “You’re a disappointment,” he said cruelly. “You don’t have what it takes. You never did.”
I felt my chest ache at the words, and fear along with shame nearly consumed me. Dr. Pike started toward me again, and I cowered away, but before he could reach me, I heard someone calling my name.
“Hope, wake up.”
I jolted awake with a gasp, my whole body jerking as I was ripped from the dream. The sweat part was real. My skin was slick, and my heart was hammering so loudly I could hear it thundering in my ears.
“Hey, shhhh,” Jay said softly. “You’re okay.”
I frantically searched the darkness, trying to anchor myself to where I was. Then it all came back.
The hotel. Seeing Dr. Pike. Sharing a room with Jay.
I must’ve fallen asleep on the sofa, and he’d carried me into the bedroom.
“It was just a dream,” he said, his hand on my arm, slowly rubbing circles near my elbow. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, reaching up to put my head in my shaking hands. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shove the images from my head.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“I—” My voice cracked, and I swallowed. “I thought I was back there.”
“You weren’t,” he said gently. “You’re not.”
I nodded, even though my pulse was still racing and I was struggling to push the numbness away that had crept up my face. Jay shifted, moving to sit fully on the bed now.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
I looked up, about to tell him I was fine and he could go. I’d had similar dreams before, just not in a long time.
A selfish part of me wanted him to stay. Because in the darkness like this, without the light to illuminate all the reasons I shouldn’t, I felt bolder. Like I could pretend I was still in a dream. Maybe if I let him stay in the dark, I would wake up, and it would all fade away in the morning light.
“Can you stay?” I whispered.
There was a long pause, and as each second passed, fear of rejection started to make its way up my spine.
I shouldn’t have asked that.
“Scoot over,” Jay suddenly said, his voice huskier now.
Relief washed through me, and I obeyed, moving over to the other side of the bed so he could climb in.
There was the sound of sheets rustling, and then suddenly everything went still.
I could feel the heat of him radiating even from a foot away. And I could smell the hotel shampoo that he’d showered with. He overtook my senses, and gradually the effects of the nightmare started to fade.
I lay on my side, bringing up my hand to rest beneath my cheek.
He turned toward me, mirroring my position. His navy eyes met mine.
“I’m not going to touch you, Hope.”
“I know.”
“Go to sleep. I’m right here.”
“Goodnight, Jay.”
“Goodnight.”