Page 33 of Phobia
Mortem Obire
Ashlyn Drewek
Chapter 1
Piercing the needle through the chicken breast in front of me, I lined it up with the suture next to it, exhaling a slow, steady breath like a sniper preparing for their next shot. I was just about to hook it through the opposite side of flesh when something loud slammed against my door, followed immediately by frantic banging. The needle jammed into the chicken, way off its mark.
“Fuck!” I tore off my latex gloves and hurried to the door, debating whether or not I should try to grab a t-shirt on the way. Given what time it was, I decided I didn’t give a shit about decency since I wasn’t exactly expecting company. Peering out the peephole, I rolled my eyes at the obviously drunken idiot on the other side. “It’s after midnight,” I groaned, opening the door and stepping backward. “How did you even get past security?”
Larkin stumbled inside, grinning from ear to ear despite the fact he was covered in mud and grass stains. “Good, you’re awake!”
“You didn’t know that before—what the fuck happened to you? Why are you bleeding?” I grabbed his hands, both covered in blood and dirt, and brought them closer to my face. The right one had cuts all over his swollen knuckles. The left was similar but it was accompanied by weird red splotches on his wrist and a large gash across his palm. “Oh my God! What the fuck did you do? Did you get into another bar fight?”
He scoffed, his dimples popping as soon as he smiled innocently. “Come on! That happenedonetime and that homophobic dickwad deserved it.”
Ignoring his dimples, I arched an eyebrow at him. “Then what happened this time?”
Larkin swayed closer, his dark eyes glassy. Tequila emanated from his breath as he answered in a conspiratorial whisper. “It was for you.”
“Whatwas for me?” I whispered back, curious and yet dreading his answer.
“I can’t—oh, fuck! I didn’t even bring it!” His face crumpled and he hung his head, his muscled shoulders slumping. “I was going to bring you a goose but the fucker bit me and flew away.”
I tried not to laugh at how dejected he was but I couldn’t help shaking my head at the same time. “And just how drunk are you?”
Larkin grinned again and pinched two fingers together. “Just a lil bit.”
“Come sit down so I can look at this,” I said with a sigh, directing him to the small kitchen table where my med bag was set up. The perks of being a nursing student, I guess,andbeing a senior. It meant I got to live in one of Tennebrose University’s tiny apartments rather than a regular dorm room, giving me the space and privacy to patch up my injury-prone friends whenever they came knocking.
Shoving the chicken breast to the side, I pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and lowered the work lamp closer to Larkin’s left hand to see what I was dealing with. The edges of the cut were clean, like it had been sliced open as opposed to torn. By what, I had no idea. Definitelynota goose. Maybe a broken bottle?
“A goose, huh?” I asked, soaking a wad of cotton squares with saline solution and dabbing at his hand.
“It was a big goose.” Larkin leaned forward, watching me work with a fascinated expression. Frankly, I’d be surprised if he could see anything with how much tequila I could smell. For his sake, I hoped he ran here from wherever the hell he’d been and didn’t park his SUV up the side of a telephone pole.
“Why were you trying to kidnap a goose?”
“For you,” he replied, so quietly that I looked up to make sure I heard him correctly. His big brown eyes were suddenly serious behind the glaze of alcohol. “To keep you safe.”
“I don’t need a goose. I have you. My own personal attack dog.” I was trying to lighten the mood, even though my heart thumped wildly in my chest. It had been ages since he’d looked at me like that and I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t missed it.
He swayed forward again, his head tilted. I thought he was going to kiss me, but sadly his mouth bypassed mine and he embraced me with one arm instead. Still, I relished it, feeling him against me, letting his body heat soak through his t-shirt and into my bare skin.
“I love you, man,” he mumbled against my neck.
“I love you too. Now are you going to let me finish or not?”
He shook his head, tightening his hold around my neck. Even though I couldn’t see it, I knew he was grinning.
“You’re such a pain in my ass.” I forcefully shoved him back in his seat and resumed bandaging his hand without much assistance on his part.
“I know.” He expelled a sigh that sounded more than sarcastic. It sounded like genuine exhaustion had taken hold more than the sedative effect of the alcohol.
I finished quickly, wrapping gauze around his hand and tucking the tail into place so it wouldn’t unravel. Retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge and some meds, I set them in front of him on the table. “Take these. And then you should get some sleep.”
“But I’m not sleepy.” He was back to being goofy, sticking out his lower lip and blinking up at me with the big, sad puppy eyes he’d perfected over the years. Those eyes, combined with his dimples, had let him get away with everything growing up—from teachers to girls to his overwhelmed grandmother. Larkin Galvan could do no wrong and he knew it.
“Well, I have to put this stuff away,” I said, as if I could resist his charm more than anyone else. I’d been losing that battle for as long as I’d known him.
