Page 33 of Unmasking You

“I’ll see you tomorrow, but in the meantime, for any issues that arise, please press that button and the nurse will be with you,” he says, pointing at the call button.

When he leaves, the room becomes silent, and I wonder if Shane has fallen asleep again. I lean back in the chair, forcing my brain to find a solution that doesn’t involve me taking care of Shane for the foreseeable future.

“My partner…” Shane says, opening his eyes at the same time and looking directly at me.

Hope and something else I can’t decipher fill his eyes, and I can’t do this. Even if he saved my dog, we are not friends, and we never will be.

“I need a coffee,” I say, walking to the door and stopping whatever is coming out of Shane’s mouth.

“I’ll see you later, darling,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear it, even people in Japan.

I glare at him and then close the door, but before I do, I don’t miss the wink he sends my way.

I try to stop the smile spreading across my face, but I can’t keep the relief blossoming inside my chest at bay.

After I get my coffee, I need to stop this nonsense. There is no way I’m taking care of the person I hate the most. I said I would listen to what he had to say, not look after him for weeks!

Chapter 12

Shane

I barely remember the drive home. No, not my home, but his. It only took saving his dog and breaking a few bones to have him inviting me over. Actually, staying with him so he could take care of me.

A bump in the road sends a flare of pain up my leg. The throb in my shoulder and the live-in headache return with a vengeance that leaves me so dizzy it makes everything hazy.

Jamie hasn’t said a word since we left the hospital, not that I was expecting him to talk to me. He’d been very clear when he said he didn’t want to talk to me. He hadn’t said much in the last three days either, talking only when other people were around. I can’t blame him. He’s not happy, and I understand why he’s like this. I was a dick when we were younger, and I’ve been nothing but a stalker since we met again as adults. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles are white.

After all these years spent apart, we should be strangers, but instead, at least for me, it’s like we never lost contact. I’m sure he would throw me out of the car if I said that to him, though.

I should be grateful for the silence, but instead it’s like a weight taking away all the air in the car. Since we met, memories I didn’t know I had have been resurfacing, and they’re not picturing a good version of me. The wrongdoing I’m guilty of cannot be swept like dust under the carpet.

Another bump in the road has me hissing in pain, but I don’t expect Jamie to care.

“Sorry,” comes from his side of the car. For a moment, I believe it’s my concussed brain playing games with me.

“It’s okay. The roads are atrocious,” I say, turning my head towards him.

But no, he’s back looking straight ahead, the dim light making it impossible to see his face and understand if he was offering an olive branch.

I guess not.

When he’s parked the car in his assigned parking space, Jamie is out even before I can thank him. He stands outside the car for a moment. I bet having to help me, of all people, is some kind of punishment for him he doesn’t deserve.

If I could have relied on my family, I would have thanked Jamie and asked him to drop me off at mine, but other than that, I’ve been a victim of the silent treatment.

He comes to my side, and then he must think better of it because he walks towards the lift instead. I let out a sigh of frustration and move around, trying to get out of the car. I bang my head on the headrest when the door suddenly opens, again hissing in pain.

“Sorry,” he says, extending a hand but then stopping midway as if realising he’ll have to touch me. He takes a deep breath and extends it fully this time.

I try to get out of the car with minimal physical effort.

He crouches down next to me and does something, making the seat move backwards, giving me space to move my leg without bending it too much. It takes a bit for Jamie to help me out because I’m heavier than he is and because I’m not really stable on my feet. But I don’t have to be because parked next to the car is a wheelchair.

I look at it, then at Jamie, and finally I measure the distance I have to cross from the car to the door with the crutch I stubbornly decided I wanted to use and… it’s never going to happen, not with my injuries, and not with how tired I am.

When he opens the door of his apartment, I expect to see something similar to mine, something cold and pompous. Instead, his place has a homey feel, decorated with warm tones all around and shelves full of books just across from the entrance. It reminds me of him with his nose deep inside one of them.

He pushes me in when he enters, and with each step he takes inside, I love his place even more. The entrance leads to an open space. On the right, a beautiful kitchen, a mix of high-level technology and furniture in a warm brown colour. I can smell the faint scent of coffee and freshly baked cake.

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