Twelve #3
Pulling up in front of the hospital, I hop out and walk around to the passenger door. Reaching a hand in, I help her out and pull her straight into me. Stepping back and away from the car, I slam my lips down on hers, claiming her, not caring if anyone is watching.
Pulling back, I brush her swollen lip with my thumb. “I love these lips. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed kissing someone so much before.”
Raising an eyebrow at me, she says, “Really? You’re going to ruin this moment by comparing me to past conquests?”
“Sunshine, you are anything but a conquest. You’re my tomorrow.” Pulling her in and hugging her tight, I bury my head into her neck, inhaling the strawberry-vanilla scent I can’t seem to get enough of.
“Mmm, and you’re a charmer, GQ, but I really do need to get in there.”
I reluctantly let her go. “Make sure you’re free tomorrow. I’m taking you on a date. No friends, no annoying siblings. Just you and me, sunshine.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she says as she walks away. “I’ll see you at twelve,” I call out to remind her I’ll be picking her up.
I have gone through all the tasks I need Reilly to get done before the weekend.
I’m a little surprised at the difference I’m seeing in Reilly today.
She’s the utmost professional and nothing like the drunk girl I saw last night—the one attempting to teach my girlfriend how to fucking pole dance.
I’m about to show her to her office when my phone pings with the song “My Girl” by The Temptations.
Smiling, because I know it’s Alyssa, I answer her call. “Sunshine, I assure you, your friend is gainfully employed.”
Hearing her laugh brightens my smile even further. I don’t recall a time when I’ve smiled so damn much before, but I think I like it.
“That’s good to know, but it’s not the reason I called.” She giggles.
“Not that I don’t love hearing your voice, but do you care to share with me why you called?”
I notice Reilly looking down at her phone, busying herself and attempting to hide the fact that her eyebrows just shot up to her hairline.
I’m making my way out of the office before what Alyssa says next stops me in my tracks. “I called to thank you for the roses, of course. They are beautiful, Zac. Thank you.”
Hearing the joy in her voice makes me wish I did send her flowers.
“Sunshine, as much as I would like to say those roses are from me, they’re not,” I grunt out. Whoever the fuck is sending my woman roses is a fucking dead man walking.
“Well, if you didn’t send them, who did?” she asks quietly. I don’t miss the shake in her voice. Is she scared? She has no reason to be scared.
“Is there a card with the flowers, Alyssa?” I ask, desperate to know who just made it to my hit list.
Reilly’s eyes go wide as she shakes her head no. My eyebrows draw together, confusion over her reaction taking over.
Alyssa replies in a shaky voice, “Y… yes, there is. I didn’t open it because I thought you sent them, Zac.”
Her reaction to receiving flowers from an unknown sender sends chills down my spine. Why is she so fucking scared? Attempting to calm her, I tell her, “Sunshine, it’s okay. Read the card to me. What does it say?”
Now, Reilly is getting up, rushing towards me. She snatches the phone right out of my hand, puts the call on speaker and pushes me out of the office and towards the elevator.
“Lyssa, it’s Reilly. You are okay. You are safe.
You’re in the hospital. Nothing can happen to you in the hospital.
” Reilly speaks calmly into the phone while pushing me into the lift and pressing the button for the ground floor.
“Lyssa, listen to me. Do not open that card. Don’t touch it.
We are on our way to you, okay? Zac and I, we’re coming to get you, okay? ”
Alyssa’s voice is so quiet as she agrees with Reilly. “I want you to stay on the phone with me until we get there. Go and tell whoever you need to tell that you’re sick and you need to go home, okay?”
Reilly’s calm tone is doing nothing to calm my racing heart. What the fuck is going on? Reilly continues to talk to Lyssa, while I stare at the phone like it can give me the answers I fucking need right now.
“Lyssa, don’t hang up just put the phone in your pocket while you talk to your boss,” she instructs and, looking briefly at me, she says quietly, “Lyssa, it’s not him, okay. It can’t be. He’s still in jail. It’s not him.”
“It’s not him,” Alyssa repeats quietly. “I’m going to put the phone in my pocket and tell the registrar I have to go.” All I can hear on the line is the shuffling of fabric.
Following Reilly out to the back carpark, I’m quiet when I voice all the questions currently storming through my head. “What the fuck is going on, Reilly? Why is she so fucking freaked out, and who the fuck is he?”
Reilly puts her finger to her lips as she whispers, “You need to drive. If you care about Alyssa at all, you need to get to the hospital now. Just know that she needs us. I can’t tell you why. It’s not my story to tell.”
Cursing, I jump into the car. Reilly barely has the passenger door shut before I have the car screaming out of the carpark in the direction of the hospital.