Page 12 of Fly Back to Me
My hero doesn’t have a face. My heart feels robbed and somehow lonelier. Robbed because I can’t express my sincerest gratitude, and lonelier because he doesn’t care to hear it. As much as I respect his wish, the disappointment cascades over me like a raging waterfall.
I should tell the nurse this ring isn’t mine.
I should tell her it belongs to the man who rescued me.
I should tell the truth.
I should.
But I agree to take the ring home, knowing that I need his protection more than he needs to wear this accessory. One look at it, and an ounce of my fear was lifted.
This way, he’s close by.
I need it.
I need it.
Chapter 6
Cade
One Week Later
The porcelain of the sink digs into my bare lower abs as I unravel the gauze. I throw the remnants in the wastebasket, only for the burgundy line across my forearm to taunt me.
I sigh softly, lifting my hand to grab the knob of the medicine cabinet. After retrieving the antibacterial ointment, I squeeze a generous amount of gel onto the pads of my fingers.
My brows crease when I lather the topical across the long cut. I apply pressure to the tender flesh, noticing the scarlet patches embedded in the shallow wound. There’s most likely going to be a scar left behind, and the realization is just as shitty as it is hopeful.
I’m not looking forward to rocking tattered skin on my ink-free arm, but in the same breath, I’m also wondering if it meansshe’sgoing to be okay. If this was the price for her safety, then the cost was small. On the other hand, I can’t help but wish the motherfucker sliced my tattooed arm to camouflage the damage.
Nah, fuck that.
The art is too precious.
I twist the cap back onto the nozzle of the tube, my naked knuckle igniting the memory of silk fingers snuggling it. Relentlessly firm. So tight that our skin fused together to the point where I didn’t register that she’d swiped my ring off. At least that’s my best educated guess of what happened.
After returning to the scene and snooping around the pavement to no avail, I eventually swallowed the loss. Then, there was the decision to remain anonymous.
Naturally, I’ve never been one to thrive on attention. But beyond those details, I didn’t want to bethat person. The person who digs up a despicable memory for her. The person who would serve as the dreadful keepsake she never asked for.
The last thing I want to do is inflict any more pain than what she already has to endure. I want to gift her a chance to move on. If I inserted myself into her life, I’m afraid I would only be a stressor and a setback.
The rumbling of her petrified body still lingers around me. Sometimes, between my everyday thoughts. Haunting me when I least expect it. But as I consider the woman I rescued, it dawns on me that she’s faceless.
Strangely enough, I find myself wishing I at least knew the color of her eyes.
Olivia
“Ahh!”
My body pops up, chest pounding through staccato breaths in the dark. I plant both palms over my heart, and my fingers clench the cotton of my oversized t-shirt. The ripple effects of my nightmare pulse through me as pearls of sweat decorate my hairline.
“What the hell?!” The midnight around me vanishes in an instant, and my head whips to the open bedroom door. Lauren’s fingers rest on the light switch, her auburn hair cascading over the exposed shoulders under her camisole straps.
I swallow thickly, dragging my eyes to the wall in front of me as my hand slips through my hair. “I’m sorry. I had another nightmare,” I pant out.
Her bare feet pad along the carpet until the mattress dips beside me. “Do you want me to sleep with you?” she asks, sympathy woven in her voice.
