Page 58 of Every Broken Piece
He snags my small bag of clothes from the backseat. I don’t have much. Just the things that Amelia brought me a few days ago. The dress I was wearing the night of the attack has been entered into evidence. They can burn it for all I care. I’ll never wear it again. In fact, it’ll be a long time before I walk into a bar again.
When we enter the building Gabe mutters, “The outside door doesn’t lock?”
“Broken. Elevator too. I’m on the fourth floor.”
“Tess.” He nearly growls my name. “You can’t climb four flights of stairs in your condition.”
“It’s fine.” It has to be fine. I have no other option. And I really don’t like the way he says ‘your condition’ like I’m an invalid. Yes, I might like the way he lifted me so carefully out of the car, but I’m not about to break. If I was, I would have done it long ago.
He sighs as he follows me up the steps. I don’t miss that his hand occasionally skims my lower back, there in case I stumble.I would never admit that my legs are weak by the time I make it to my apartment door. I manage to get us inside, but my strength is failing fast. No matter how strong I think I am, I’m beginning to wonder if my body will disappoint me and give out.
“Tess?”
My head is throbbing, my vision blurring, my stomach churning. His voice is distant, but his hands are there, an arm around my waist, securing me to his side and holding me just tight enough that I don’t collapse.
“I’m okay.” But we both know I’m not okay.
“Damn it. I knew those stairs would be too much.”
Once again, I find myself lifted and tucked into his chest as he takes two long strides to my couch and lowers us both into it. He doesn’t let me go. He doesn’t lay me down on the couch. He lays himself down and adjusts me, so I’m sprawled on top of him, my head pressed to the heavy pounding of his heart.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. I think I’ve frightened him more than myself.
“You’re not. You almost passed out on me.”
“I’ll be okay.” Because I don’t have a choice, but even as I say the words I snuggle into his warmth and close my heavy-lidded eyes. His hand cradles the back of my head, while his other hand lays heavy at the base of my spine, anchoring me to him.
I’ll be okay in a minute.
Chapter thirty-two
Gabe
My phone vibrates every few minutes, buzzing like a pocket full of bumble bees. Someone wants me bad, but I’ll be damned if I try to dig it out of my pocket and possibly wake Tess up.
She’s been out cold, sprawled across my body for almost an hour now. My right hand is fisted in her hair at the base of her skull, my left resting above the swell of her ass. I can’t seem to stop my thumb from drawing lazy circles over the exposed soft skin below the hem of her t-shirt.
Holding her this close is killing me. All I have to do is tip my chin down for my tongue to reach the delicate swirl of her ear, or the spot under her jaw where the bruise is turning various shades of purple.
To keep my mind off kissing her and to cool my overheated body, I study her home. Driving through the neighborhood had every protective instinct on code red. I wanted to turn the car around and drive to the airport where I’d bundle her into a chartered plane and take her to a home where a doorman guardsthe entrance and biometrics get the few select people I trust into my place.
I hate like hell that she lives in this rundown building but I’m not such a snob that I don’t remember the years of financial struggle Cara and I lived through while I was building my business. I don’t judge anyone for trying to make ends meet. But Tess in this place?
Unacceptable.
Yet despite the state of the building, her apartment is homey. Bright and happy, just like her. She must love gardening because it’s like a jungle in here with every conceivable houseplant on every available surface. Vines drape over windowsills and tables and bookcases until I can’t figure out where one starts and the other ends.
The couch beneath us is old and worn, sagging in the middle. There’s a spring digging into my back, but pastel throw pillows and a multi-colored handmade knitted blanket thrown over the back cheer it up. A furry, white, area rug covers most of the floor. The couch, coffee table, TV stand, and four bookcases are all mismatched but manage to look like they belong together.
Yes, four bookcases, all filled with books. From where I’m lying, I see the spines of some that she’d recommended to me in our late-night texts. She’s a reader, but I already knew that. It’s the rest of her I want to learn about.
The living area and dining area are one big room, but the dining area has no furniture, no table and chairs, and is filled with boxes neatly piled up like maybe she just moved in. Since it seems she’s still unpacking I’m hoping I can convince her to move right back out.
Doesn’t TaskGenius pay a living wage?
She whimpers in her sleep, and I tighten my arms around her. A quick glance at my watch tells me it’s time for her pain medsbut I won’t wake her because then she’ll leave my arms and I’m not ready to let her go just yet.
However, the pain must be making itself known because she starts squirming, her warm body pressing into mine, causing all kinds of reactions that I grit my teeth against.
