Page 91 of The Night Shift
“And you need to leave me the fuck alone before I’m forced to call security.”
There’s nothing but pure desperation in her eyes. The tube light flickers again. Several others in the café turn to look at it. “Holly,please,” Audrey continues. “You have to listen to me. I don’t have much time.”
“Good. Because I don’t have much patience left either.”
“You have to trust me.”
My mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton balls. Words get stuck halfway out, refusing to come. It feels like I haven't slept in a hundred years. The background noise fades out, replaced by a low buzz that makes my head throb.
Something feels wrong. I don’t know what, but something…it all feels terribly wrong. Instinct takes over. I push back mychair and get up, turning around to get the hell away from her, running into someone right away. The entire contents of my coffee cup spill all over my white lab coat.
“Fucking hell.” I shake my arms, trying to get the hot liquid off my sleeves. “Can’t you watch where you’re going?”
“I was,” says an accented voice, even-tempered and calm. “Still am.”
I look up and meet a pair of familiar blue eyes. The tube light has finally stopped flickering and when I turn back around, Audrey is no longer there. The bubble of white noise grows thick and heavy, weighing in on me till it pops. I feel disoriented.
“Love?” says Theo.
I swallow, my throat rough, and turn back around to look at him. “Where the hell have you been?” I shove his chest.
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“I woke up and you were gone.” I hate how needy I sound.
“I left a note. And pancakes.” His tone is nonchalant. Unbothered. “Did you like them?”
“They were trash.”
The corner of his mouth hikes up. “This is adorable. If I knew you had such a strong case of separation anxiety, I would have left something behind. You know, like a sweater or a lock of my hair?”
“Or your severed arm.”
“You know, Hollister. It’s becoming a bit hard for me to take your threats seriously.”
The casual amusement in his tone sets my blood on fire. Under normal circumstances, I would simply ignore his existence, not caring if he lived or died. But since these are not “normal circumstances” — I’m angry and drenched in coffee and all I want is for him to tell me where the hell he’s been all day. Did he go and tell someone about the texts? About me? Didhetell Audrey? Is he working with Audrey? “Where were you, Theo?” I ask again.
No response. His brows furrow and he goes on watching me. But not with the usual mischievous gleam that makes me want to wrap my fingers around his throat and strangle him to death. No. This is different. Intense. His jaw clenches, a muscle twitching in his cheek and for a moment, the playful glint in his eyes vanishes, replaced by something primal and possessive. “What is that?” He reaches for my hand.
I yank my hand back. He catches my wrist, his thumb caressing a specific spot on the side of my palm, sending a hot current through my veins.
I look down to see what the fuck he’s talking about and — oh. It’s the cut from the glass shard this morning. A thin red line; barely a scratch, but it still stings.
“It’s nothing, it’s just a cut.” I try snatching my hand back, but his grip is firm.
“You’re hurt. That’s not nothing to me.” He lifts my hand, holding it close to his face for a better look, his fingers brushing against mine. Warm air washes over the cut, followed by the faint brush of his lips against my skin. It's a feather-light touch, barely there, but it ignites a spark deep within me. Every single person in the cafeteria is staring at us. I can feel it. Yet, I can’t seem to tear my gaze away from Theo’s face and the way he’s holding my hand. Like I’m the most delicate thing in the world.
His eyes are fixated on the cut, but I can tell he’s aware of everything too — the eyes on us, the way my heart is hammering against my ribs, the heat that’s rising in my cheeks. He isn’t looking directly at me, but somehow, he’s still seeing right through me. He leans in even closer. A gentle puff of air hits the cut, warm and intimate, and my knees turn to mush. I yank my hand back, a jolt of electricity shooting up my arm as our skin separates.
“Where the fuck were you, Carter?” I demand, practically feeling the redness in my cheeks.
“Careful, now. It sounds like you missed me.”
Great. His usual sardonic self is back. “Are you capable of a having a normal, adult conversation for one second? Or is that too much to ask for?”
He makes a light clicking sound with his tongue. “Depends.”
“On what?”
