Page 55 of Every Broken Piece
Her chin juts out and I fall just a little bit in love with my Spitfire.
“I can.”
“Then get out of bed.”
Her eyes go wide. “What?”
I roll my hands in a hurry up motion. “Get out of bed. Get yourself dressed. Let’s blow this place. If you can walk out of here on your own, with no help, I’ll take you home now and leave you at your front door so you can take care of yourself.”
I wait, anticipating her explosion of anger. Look forward to it, actually. She’s not the only one itching for a fight. I may not be as angry as she is, but I’m tired, and I’m worried. Hell, I’ll admit it. I’m scared for her because my gut—and the fear buried in her eyes—is telling me that there’s a whole hell of a lot more to her story than she’s let on.
Her inner war is real. I can see her need for independence winning but at the last minute something deep inside her breaks. She turns her head away to blink back tears and my heated fury vanishes. Her tears leave me helpless and wrecked.
I scoot forward in my chair and lean my arms on her bed. Someone braided her hair. The long, twisted rope drapes over her shoulder and pools on the blankets at her waist. Following an instinct I probably shouldn’t succumb to; I move to sit on the edge of the bed.
“What are you doing?” She presses herself further into her pillows, blinking rapidly at me.
“Is this okay?” The last thing I want is to make her uncomfortable but sitting in that chair felt like too great a distance. I need to be closer.
I smooth some strands of hair that have escaped her twisted braid, tucking a few behind her ear. There’s a bruise along her bottom jaw that I skim my fingertip over as I suppress the flash-bang of anger that races through me. I can’t do anything about the attack. I can’t go back in time to stop it, or erase it, or kill the fucker before he can assault her. But I can take care of her.
To take my mind off her bruises I concentrate instead on the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her body. The steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. The way she watches me so closely like she’s wary, but also curious. Like she’s suspicious but also intrigued. Like she wants to push me away, while tugging me closer.
“Tess?”
Those big, gorgeous eyes blink and now her breaths are shallower. She’s looking at my lips like she wants me to kiss her. Her body language has my own body locked down tight.
The dark room, the quiet hospital, the low murmur of the nurses’ voices at their station creates a cocoon of intimacy that makes me want to close the few inches between us and kiss her. The conqueror inside me, the part of me that survived my wife’s death and built a huge business, who raised a son and defied every obstacle thrown at me, wants to kiss her until that breath hitches for a different reason.
I won’t take advantage of her when she’s helpless. But damn it I want to.
The mood is not necessarily broken but diluted when she drags her gaze from my mouth to beyond my shoulder, releases a deep breath, and rolls her eyes. “You forget that I’m your PA. I know what your schedule looks like. Aren’t you supposed to be in England next week?”
“I’ll reschedule.” We still need to discuss her lack of employment, but not tonight. She’s still struggling with the loss of independence. Discovering she’s unemployed might break her completely and she’s had enough for one day. I have, too. I can’t watch her fall apart when my own emotions are so raw.
“You can’t reschedule,” she says.
“I can.”
“What if I don’t want you here?”
I don’t know why she has walls. She’s dropped clues and I have my suspicions. I’m making it my mission to find out, but I need to go slow. One step at a time and right now the step I need to take is to convince her to let me help her through tomorrow. Then I’ll work on the next day, and the day after that.
“Do you really not want me here? Because if my presence is causing this much distress then I’ll leave. I’ll walk out that door right now if that’s what you really want.”
I won’t. I can’t. But she doesn’t know that. And my gut tells me to call her bluff.
I may not have wanted another woman in my life, but she’s here now and I’m all in. If she kicks me out, I’ll find another way.
“Let me be your family, Tess.”
Mirrored in her eyes is all the confusion I’m feeling. How’d we go from a grumpy boss who hates exclamation points and happy face emojis to the brink of something so explosive it has both of us scared?
I gently tug on the end of her braid. “Let me help you, Tess.”
A shudder runs through her. She’s proud, independent. I don’t know how long she’s been on her own, but it’s clearly been a while.
Her shoulders suddenly droop. “For a little while. You can stay just for a little while.”
