Page 85 of Texting the CEO's Obsession
IsNick my boyfriend? It feels kind of presumptuous to say that without even talking to him about it.
After everything that’s happened, the term also feels kind of juvenile.
Whatever, that’s not something for me to think about right now.
“We’ll make sure to be available,” I promise, even though I have no clue how Nick will want to handle this.
“Just be sure to only answer calls from numbers you recognize,” he warns. “It’s a good idea to keep your head down for now. Money goes a long way with keeping the media quiet, and I’d advise you not to waste a chance to keep your name out of things.”
With that, he turns to take his leave, and I take a deep, steadying breath.
It’s finally over. There’s nothing left to worry about except for my relationship with Nick, and I can’t pretend that I’m conflicted on what to do anymore.
I know what I want, and it’s Nick.
One of the nurses comes in and unhooks me from the machines, placing my discharge papers and a set of clothes from the gift shop on the edge of the bed before telling me to go home and get some rest. As ready as I am to get out of here, the thought of going home sends a chill down my spine.
Logically, I know there’s nothing to be scared of anymore, but the memory of opening my front door to Bruno’s smiling face is enough to scare me off.
I don’t know if I’ll be comfortable being alone there again.
I quickly change into the clothes the nurse brought for me, debating where to go. Taylor’s is the obvious choice, even though she’ll be at work for another few hours. She’s stopped by every night after she gets off, keeping me in the loop with everything and distracting me from it all when I need it.
It seems like a waste to go sit in her living room when she’s not even there, and I haven’t seen Nick since I passed out in Bruno’s torture shed.
Taylor said he wasn’t allowed to visit me while I was here since the investigation was still ongoing, but I want to see his face again so badly it hurts. All I know is that he’s been waiting in the lobby the entire time, grilling her for details on my condition every night when she leaves.
It’s been nearly four days, so I can’t imagine he’sstillthere, and the decision to head over to his place comes easily.
Taylor brought me my phone and charger, so I snag them and place them into the small baggie the nurse left my discharge paperwork in and head toward the elevator. The trip doesn’t take long, but by the time I reach the lobby, I find myself coming to a complete stop.
Nick is tucked away in a secluded corner, his beard grown out, his hair tousled like he’s been running his hands through it non-stop. He’s slumped over in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, looking like he’s about a quarter of a second away from passing out, but he glances up and scans the lobby after a few seconds.
His eyes pass over me and then snap back, widening in relief as he shoves out of his seat so fast he stumbles over his own feet. The entire world fades out as he rushes over, the chatterof everyone else waiting going silent as my focus narrows down entirely to the brilliant smile on his handsome face.
“Riley,” he breathes out shakily as he tugs me into a crushing hug. “Thank God you’re okay.”
I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face into his chest and soaking in the comforting warmth of him as tears prick at my eyes.
“Pretty sure I have you to thank for that, not God,” I joke.
He laughs along with me even as he pulls back, cupping my unbruised cheek with a calloused palm. His steely eyes flit over my injuries, anger and regret etched into the lines of his face, but they fade when he meets my eyes again, replaced with pure affection.
“I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat,” he promises, stroking his thumb along my cheekbone.
My heart twinges in sympathy, sorrow threatening to close my throat up as I reach up to squeeze his hand, tangling our fingers together.
An apology wouldn’t help; it wouldn’t fix anything. I know he wouldn’t accept it anyway. None of this was my fault at the end of the day, but I wish I could go back and stop it from happening.
I’d do anything to stop him from hurting.
“How are you holding up?” I ask softly, squeezing his fingers between mine. “With… everything.”
His hand twitches against my face, but he tugs me closer with the arm around my waist, sighing like the press of my body against his soothes some unseen wound.
“Better now that I can see you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “You’re so beautiful, Riley.”
I can’t help but laugh at him, rolling my eyes. I’m a mess, and we both know it. The bruise on my jaw is a sickly yellow, slowly fading as it heals, and my nose is still swollen, with dark circles beneath both my eyes from a combination of bruising and exhaustion.
