Page 50 of Every Broken Piece
Instead of being angry, or contrite, or looking guilty, he grins. He. Grins. And my heart shifts and I want... I want way more than I can have.
“I don’t see the humor in this.” IknowI sound childish, but I can’t help myself.
“I’m not laughing at you.”
“Sure looks like it.”
He unfolds his arms and slides his hands into his pockets, shifting so that both shoulders are now leaning against the wall. “I’m smiling because sassy looks good on you.”
I’m taken aback by the compliment considering all my life I’ve tried to please the people around me by being compliant and easy going. And the one man I could easily fall for says he thinks sassy looks good on me. This man will be my downfall if I let him in.
“Yeah, well, you’d be sassy, too.” I want to roll my eyes at my lame comeback, but we’re interrupted when the doctor knocks on the door frame.
“Miss James?” She strides in with a no-nonsense, take-charge gate, and holds her hand out for me to shake. It’s then I notice the badge clipped to her black pants and I freeze.
This is no doctor.
Gabe must sense my rising fear because he pushes away from the wall and stands behind me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder
“We met before,” the woman says. “You might not remember. You were a little out of it. I’m Margot Hardwick, the detective investigating your case. I was hoping now would be a good time to ask some questions about the night of your attack?”
Her eyes are a warm brown. She wears her dark hair in a short, paintbrush ponytail at the base of her neck and a man’s white button-down shirt. But it’s her open, trusting expression I fixate on.
I don’t trust it.
Gabe sits on the edge of the bed, his focus solely on me as he leans forward to gently take both my hands in his. “I’ve spoken to Detective Hardwick a few times. She’s good people.”
He has?
When?
And why?
And how does he know she’s ‘good people’?
She slides her bag off her shoulder and eases it to the floor. “Please, call me Margot. No need to be so formal.”
Gabe carries Amelia’s chair over to the detective. I never said I would speak with her yet they both assume it’s a forgone conclusion. Just another aspect of my life spiraling out of control because I’mnotokay with this. I don’t want to talk to the detective who’sgood people.
She sits and starts rummaging through her bag. “How’re you feeling? You took a hard knock to the head.”
“I’m okay.”
My muscles have locked tight, and every bruise scattered across my body pulsates in pain. My hands are twisted together in my lap and my wrist is shooting sharp jolts of discomfort up my arm.
Gabe’s brows lower in worry.
“Are you up for some questions?” Hardwick—I can’t call her Margot—pulls out a notebook and a pen. I stare at it in distrust.
“Tess,” Gabe says softly
I drag my attention to him.
“It’s up to you,” he says. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t feel well. Especially if your trip for your scan tired you out.”
Is he playing at being my fiancé? Or is his concern genuine? I glance at Hardwick. Does she think we’re engaged or is she in on the scam too?
I wish I knew what exactly is going on here. I feel like an actor in a play, but no one’s told me what my lines are. Or even what the plot is so I can make stuff up as I go.
