Page 54 of Brutal Knight

Despite the lingering fear that Connor could turn on me, a part of me hates how disappointed I know he is. I’m disappointed too.

I’m embarrassed. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I just needed relief. I’ve never woken up like this, fresh from an overdose, people lingering over me with pitying expressions.

I hate it.

I’ve never wanted to be someone people pitied. I’ve never wanted their sympathy. All I ever wanted was to get away, far away from everything that hurt me. I didn’t take Demerol to become a damsel in distress. I took it to become no one, to be nothing, to be so unimportant and invisible that no one who wanted power ever came near me again.

Yet this is where I’ve ended up.

I clench my fists in the sheets. The door opens and a woman comes in, older, maybe in her fifties. There are lines on her face, but she still looks gorgeous, and her expression is serious when her gaze lands on me.

“Good to see you’re up. I’m Dr. Weathers. How are you feeling?”

I swallow. I don’t know what to say. “Fine, I guess.”

Dr. Weathers checks the machines by my side, nodding at whatever she sees on them. “That’s good. You got lucky. It wasn’t bad enough for any real damage. Physical, anyway.”

“Oh.”

“Your vitals are fine,” she adds. “I don’t think you’ll have any immediate problems.”

Rose sighs. “That’s good to hear.”

The relief in Rose’s and Violet’s faces is startling. I barely know them. How can they care about me?

Connor is still silent, but I know he’s listening. His face hasn’t changed. He still has his arms crossed over his chest, tight and rigid.

“You’re fine to go home,” Dr. Weathers says. “I’ll have a nurse come by to help you.”

Rose and Violet murmur their goodbyes and well-wishes. I barely listen. They leave shortly after Dr. Weathers, leaving me with Connor. A nurse comes to help me get up, unhooked, and changed. Connor disappears for just a moment, and I feel like I can breathe.

He’s waiting outside the door when I emerge. We go deal with the discharge papers and then head outside, and I blink, feeling like I’ve climbed out of a pool and the earth is swaying.

Connor is still cold. He’s cold when we leave, cold when I get into the car. The entire drive is like being in a freezer with him. I feel like I can’t breathe or speak, like the silence is crystallizing between us. If I break it, the shattering will do nothing but cut me to pieces.

But I can’t hold back anymore.

The moment Connor closes the door to the house, I know I can’t take the silence and tension for a second longer. I blurt the first thing that comes to mind.

“What’s going on?”

I need him to speak. I need whatever he’s holding back to get out in the open. This is killing me. It’s like nothing I’ve dealt with before. With Dmitri, everything was explosive, but I knew when it was coming.

With Connor, I can’t tell.

He shrugs off his jacket and ignores me. I clench my hands into fists, holding bunches of my sweater in my palms. I should stop.

But I don’t.

“Say something,” I insist. My voice is thin, nervous. “Tell me. Tell me what’s happening.”

It’s like a rubber band snapping. Connor wheels around to face me, and I’m almost knocked back with the force of his frustration, anger bursting to life like a roaring fire.

“I’m trying to help you, that’s what’s fucking happening!”

He’s yelling. I can’t remember him ever shouting before. He’s been angry before, but not like this. I freeze immediately, but not with the same fear I felt with Dmitri.

“I’ve tried, but you don’t seem to want help,” Connor continues, slicing a hand through the air. “I’ve been trying to keep you fucking safe. And then you do this. You go and nearly kill yourself.”

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