Page 42 of The Love Destroyers

A few minutes after Emma and I saved the kitten from the wall, which we still don’t know how she got into, the ambulance arrived. It seemed dumb to get into it, knowing it would cost Emma’s mother thousands of dollars, but when I said so, Emma rolled her eyes. She argued the cost of litigation would bemuchhigher if I died from an untreated head injury.

I doubted my brother and sister would drag Mrs. Rosings to court, even for something that was one hundred percent her fault, but it didn’t seem like the time to argue, plus my head was throbbing. So I went with the paramedics, and Emma insisted on following me in her car, leaving Shadow with Mrs. Rosings.

I told her it was a poor parenting decision and said we’d be discussing it in court, which got me another eyeroll.

And damn…when did I get addicted to the sight of a woman rolling her eyes at me?

Probably about the same time I started liking those breathy littleSeamus, you’re a fucking idiotsighs. Or when I let her steal my lighter and flask, which she has yet to return. That should annoy me more than it does, but I don’t mind the thought of them being in her company. They’re lucky, getting to bewith her. The flask is especially lucky, having her lips wrapped around it.

You know what? Maybe I do have a concussion. Those thoughts can’t possibly be mine. I know better than to let myself lose my peace over a woman.

I’m in my hospital room now, after a brief stay in the ER in a curtained off “room” that looked like the kind of place baby cows were sent on their way to becoming veal. I’m waiting for the doctor to come.

Emma said she’d be in the waiting room and would call my brother and sister to fill them in. I’ll be honest, I don’t at all mind the thought of her waiting on me, worried that her mother might have accidentally offed me.

I need to back off, obviously.

A couple of months ago, Emma was off limits because she’s my sort-of sister-in-law. That hasn’t changed, but now there are other reasons she’s off limits.

The last time I fell for a woman, I nearly destroyed my life. That experience taught me that I can be social and enjoy what women have to offer but still keep myself.

But there’s more…

I shouldn’t fuck around with a lawyer, given who I am and what I’ve done—what I lack in a criminal record, I make up for in a criminal past. A past I have alluded to before in Emma’s presence, possibly to keep myself honest, because even though I should know better than to pursue her, I’m not known for making well-thought-out decisions.

After what seems like an interminably long time, someone jostles the door handle and then opens it. A nurse with blond hair. Or at least that’s my first impression before she steps into the antiseptic-smelling room and closes the door behind her. “Well, well,” she says. “You really fucked up didn’t you?”

It’s Nicole.

I go to sit up, and immediately groan at what the jostling did to my head. Leaning it back, I say, “What are you doing here? Did Mrs. Rosings send you back here to finish the job?”

She rolls her eyes, which does nothing for me when it comes from her, and steps further into the room, pausing at the little side table next to me and popping a grape from the untouched dinner tray someone felt the need to put there despite the nausea rolling through me.

I’ve been hospitalized before, and from my experience, hospital food is a lot like dog food, only arranged in a handy, dandy sectioned tray—but they sent up what looks like a charcuterie board, with seltzer water in a fancy green glass bottle and a single flower in a vase. I don’t know what kind of fancy ass hospital this is, but I do know I won’t be eating any of it. I couldn’t hold down a dry cracker.

Nicole stops next to my bed. “I was in the waiting room with your brother, sister, Chuck, and Emma, and I’ll be honest. Waiting does nothing for me. So Damien helped make a distraction so I could sneak back here in the scrubs I keep in my car.”

I have lots of questions. For one, what’s with the security in this place? For another, why is she here? Emma, I get. My sister, I understand, too. She’s not really the worrying type, but she’d do anything for the people in her circle. My brother isdefinitelythe worrying type. Chuck, yes, obviously he’d come. When Claire was a kid, he probably put fifteen Band-Aids on each of her scrapes and sent her to the ER if she tripped. But Nicole’s presence doesn’t make sense.

The bump on my head was bandaged, temporarily, by a nurse, so there’s not much to see, but Nicole leans in for a better look.

“She got you good, huh?”

“Is there a point to this?”

She rolls her eyes again. “Yes. I’m interested as youremployer. How are you supposed to be Ellie Reed’s driver this weekend if it’s dangerous for you to drive?”

Oh, shit.

Ohhhhshit.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not illegal to drive with a concussion, and it might not be one anyway,” I say quickly, even though it feels like my head got knocked around like a pinata at a five-year-old’s birthday party.

“And that’s what I’m here to find out. Now, who was the thirty-sixth president of the United States?”

“I’ve never known that, and neither do you,” I guess.

She smiles for half a second. “Okay, so you passed the first question. Bully for you. Are you dizzy or lightheaded?”

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