Page 32 of When Love Found Us
Should I tell her the fiancée is Nysa? Nah, I’ll let her figure that out soon.
“Let me guess, you had to deal with the sheriff too, huh?” I cross my arms trying not to smirk.
She nods. “Yep, he needed a physical. Why is he here? I recall him wanting to go into the FBI.” Then she glares at me. “Why are you here?”
I shrug then tilt my head toward the room where Blythe is at. “Brought you a patient.”
Simone huffs. “You’re the NDA, no paperwork and all that shit?” She tosses her hands up in the air. “Why am I not surprised? I refuse to do it.”
“She’s pregnant, and we need your help,” I say in what I hope is a pleading voice. I don’t think I’ve ever used that. I always demand things, and it works, but something tells me that if I do that with her, I’ll lose my audience.
“Fine, but I have one condition,” she says.
“Okay . . . what is it?”
“You keep your other brother away from me,” she states.
I arch an eyebrow. This is exactly why she hates the Timberbridge brothers. Keir. The others were also a bunch of assholes to her friends. I wasn’t a saint, but I was never like them. Not once did I go steady with a girl. They knew it was a one-time thing, and I didn’t do it often.
“I will keep him away—” I pause, pressing my lips and giving her a look that says,You’re the one who fucked up—“In my defense, I told you to?—”
“Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear a fucking ‘I told you so.’” She glares at me. “Do. Not. Fucking say it—or even mentionhisname.”
I salute her. “Understood.”
“Come on, then.” she knocks on the door and waits until Blythe let us inside, as we wait, I hear Simone whisper, “I knew coming back would be a bad idea, but . . . well, I’m here.”
It makes me wonder if Nysa knows about her or if Simone is keeping to herself, avoiding the town. She was the smart kid with the problematic mother. That’s probably why she and Keir were close. She believed in his charm, his promises and . . . well, he left her without giving her a second glance. If there’s anyone who would understand Blythe’s situation, it’ll be Simone. I just hope she really helps us.
ChapterFourteen
Henrietta (Blythe)
I don’t trust doctors.
Not because I think they’ll hurt me. If anything, they’ve always been polite. Distantly professional, carefully indifferent. It’s not them I fear—it’s what they represent.
They used to help Winston.
They stitched me up, reset bones, murmured reassurances while carefully avoiding my eyes. They never asked the real questions. Never pushed too hard. Their only concern was making sure Winston’s wife was repaired, ready for the next time he decided she wasn’t good enough.
This doctor . . . I don’t know if I trust her either.
She hates Atlas’s brothers. I caught bits of murmured conversation outside, low voices that turned to nothing the second they walked in. There’s a story between the two of them that much is clear. Maybe she doesn’t hate Atlas because they were something once.
And no, I’m not jealous.
But wouldn’t it be weird to be under the care of someone who used to sleep with my—what even is he to me now? Are we supposed to be married?
I can’t believe he didn’t tell me my name is now Blythe Timberbridge. He could’ve at least given me a heads-up, not that I would’ve agreed with it. Nope. That’s . . . I don’t need to be anyone’s wife.
This situation keeps getting worse by the second. Messy. Complicated. And maybe I should just leave.
Atlas gave me enough money to buy whatever I need—including clothes. It’s an advance, he said.
I am not buying shit.
This is my escape fund. The money I’ll use to disappear. Maybe to Canada. Would they take me? Could Winston find me there?
