Page 56 of Every Broken Piece
I see how much the concession costs her. “For a little while, then.”
Even though what I really want to do is lay down beside her and gather her close to me while she sleeps, I return to my chair and pick up my laptop.
“What are you working on?” she asks. “Do you need me to help?”
“Just catching up on emails.”
“I’m sure your inbox is full. I can at least help with that.”
“The doctor said to stay away from screens for the next few weeks.” I was here for that conversation yesterday. She needs to let her brain heal and screens can cause severe headaches.
“I can’t not work for the next several weeks. My clients rely on me, and I don’t have that much sick time.”
I close my laptop because obviously her watching me work makes her anxious. “For now, let’s not think of me as your client. I’m just a...friend... Here to help.”Friendtastes bitter in my mouth, but I’ll accept it for now.
“Friend? I thought we were engaged.” There’s a sparkle in her eye that makes me grin. This is the Tess of our late-night texts.
“I thought you didn’t want to be engaged.”
She tilts her head and I’m fucking relieved to see that ghost of a smile. “Are we breaking up, Mr. Stone?”
“I’d be a fool to let someone like you go.” The words slip out without thought and an uncomfortable silence falls between us.
Her grin fades.
“Why?” she asks softly, vulnerably. “Why are you doing this?” Her hand sweeps across the room but I hear what she’s saying. Why am I sticking around? Why’d I fly here to begin with? What’s in it for me?
All questions I’ve asked myself over and over.
And only one answer I come back to over and over.
I’m falling for her.
Chapter thirty-one
Tess
Gabe slept in the uncomfortable chair, refusing my pleas to return to his hotel room. I slept fitfully; pain allowing me only to doze in fits and starts but waking to his soft breathing calmed my racing heart each time.
The downside of him not leaving is that he’s here when the doctor returns to go over the conditions of my release.
Occasionally Gabe steps out to take a phone call. His absence makes the room seem bigger and the fears lurking in the darkness inside me surges until I’m fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, pleating it between my fingers.
I don’t want him here for his safety.
I do want him here for my safety.
I should come clean and tell him about Sandra Jansen and the phone call that I’m positive led to the attack. But so many years of hiding everything from the police keeps me silent. Sandra did a bang-up job of instilling fear of the system in her daughters.
I’m aware that she used it to her advantage, but I can’t move past the ingrained lessons to actually trust other people.
“You’ll need to follow up with the orthopedic surgeon about that wrist,” the doctor’s saying. “It’s a serious sprain, but I think it will heal on its own. You’ll probably have that brace off in a few weeks.”
Gabe’s leaning a shoulder against the wall, listening intently, looking rumpled and sexy in the clothes he wore all night. His hair is mussed, his shirt and pants wrinkled. It’s the most unkept I’ve ever seen him and it does funny things to my stomach.
I force my attention back to the doctor because I can’t be thinking of stomach somersaults caused by a man who’s taken over my life so completely.
“I’ve given you a few recommendations,” the doctor says, still talking about the orthopedic. “But you’ll need to call soon to get in. As for your head, I want to see you in my office in a few weeks for follow up. No screens, Tess. Limited phone time and no computer time.” He gives me a pointed look.
