Page 33 of Caleb
“Just know that you’re safe,” I reassure her. But I know my answer is anything but reassuring. It’s what everyone keeps telling her, and I hate beingeveryone. This wholehiding shit from herdynamic is nothing but some next-level emotional abuse bullshit. And I just pray to God I’m strong enough to endure being part of this farce.
“So why is my father so apprehensive all the time?” Her determined gaze meets mine with a challenging edge to it.
“Maybe you should ask him,” I propose. Dealing with her isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.
She smiles sadly and stares at the ceiling. It’s clear that she’s done plenty of asking around and hasn’t gotten the answers she’s looking for, thus resulting in having to look for explanations elsewhere.
It kills me to see her like this, so vulnerable, sad, broken, and oblivious to the truth.
“Miss Murphy?” I whisper to get her attention. She’s still staring at the ceiling as if trying to swallow back more tears. But she’s failing miserably at it because they start streaming down her cheeks again, and she’s not even wiping them off. It’s as if she suddenly stopped caring or gave up and surrendered to her fate.
I’m not strong enough to witness her in this condition and remain unfazed.
Recklessly, I grab her hand in between mine. It’s so cold that I rub it to warm it up with the friction. She looks at our hands and then into my eyes, and a sob escapes her throat. She’s so lonely. I can feel its sharpness puncturing my chest like a hot needle. When was the last time someone held her hand and told her everything was going to be okay?
Enough.
I spring to my feet, sit on the goddamned bed, and pull her in for a hug. “It’s okay,” I say in her ear, trying to make my voice sound as soothing as possible. “It’s okay.” She’s crying into my chest as I rub her back, trying my best to give her all the reassurance she needs in that hug.
“Incoming,” Aaron says in my ear.
I panic.
It must be the doctor, but I can’t peel Miss Murphy’s arms around my waist and push her away fast enough when the curtain flies open. Annette’s standing in front of us holding a bag and a folder. She watches me jump to my feet, widening her eyes for a second before she goes back to pretending like she didn’t walk in on me embracing Miss Murphy.
The energy is awkward as fuck.
“Bonjour, Miss Murphy,” she says with a saccharine smile, eyeing me with intense inquisitiveness. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I brought your phone, a change of clothes, and some documents you’ll need.” Annette takes a couple of steps forward, hands Miss Murphy’s cell phone to her, and drops the bag next to her bed. “And I’m sorry about your accident. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”
“It’s—I’m fine, Annette,” Miss Murphy says. “Thank you. I’m still waiting for the doctor to tell me how bad it really is.”
Daring to look at Miss Murphy, I find her blushing from the neck up, seemingly trying to sober up from the emotional whiplash and wiping the tears away.
Annette taps the manila folder she’s pressing against her chest with the tips of her fingers, her attention hovering unnervingly between Miss Murphy and me. And it only makes me wonder how deep the damage control will have to be. Will she use this information against me? Will she inform Aaron, or worst of all … Ambassador Murphy?
Aaron seems clueless about our awkward interaction, thank goodness. He’s not even looking our way. Instead, he’s keeping himself vigilant, observing the coming and going of people in the ER, as is to be expected.
“I’m sure the doctor will have good news for you,” she says. A few torturous seconds of uncomfortable silence hover between the three of us. “Anyway, I brought the health insurance information needed to check you out once you’re done.” She taps the folder twice. “But I’ll stay here, just in case you need further assistance.” She smiles, a bit warmer this time. She probably felt sorry for Miss Murphy once the shock subsided. “And please know your father has been informed about this situation. And he would’ve come himself, but unfortunately, he’s stuck in a meeting. But he told me he would meet you for dinner at the Residence.”
“Thank you, Annette,” Miss Murphy says after clearing her throat. She grabs her bottle of water and drinks deep after untwisting the cap. I’m sure that’s a standardized response when it comes to her father showing up for her.
“Agent Cohen?” Annette says, searching for my gaze. “A word?”
“Of course.” I offer a sharp nod.
We both excuse ourselves and step out of Miss Murphy’s cubicle, sliding the curtain shut to give her some well-deserved privacy.
“Stepping out to the lobby to talk to Miss Le Roux,” I inform Aaron through the earpiece as he watches us walk away from a distance.
“Copy that,” Aaron replies.
Annette and I make our way to the lobby, but she keeps walking until she exits through the automatic sliding glass doors, immediately initiating the conversation.
“Are you out of your mind,garçon?” she grits out, patting my chest until she locates the cigarette box she knows I carry around with me at all times. “Give me one of those cancer sticks.”
I hate when people call them that. It ruins the vibe.
However, I’m thankful we’re going to proceed with this conversation over a smoke. So I pull out the cigarette box from my inside jacket pocket and pluck two of them out. I give one to Annette and light her up first.
