Tears pour out of my eyes as I rush toward him. I can't even touch him, afraid I'll hurt him or knock a pin out of place, so I settle for standing near him, finding comfort in the beeping of the machine that tells me his heart is beating. He's alive.
"Is he going to be okay?" I ask the nurse who is still standing at the door.
"The doctor will come in shortly to talk to you, but for now, he's stable."
A wave of relief floods through me. I softly drift my fingers down his arm, wish he could open his eyes and look at me, but for now, I'll take what I can get.
A few moments later the doctor comes in and goes through his injuries and what his recovery will look like. He's going to need three surgeries on his leg and two on his arms. He suffered a concussion, four broken ribs, and had internal bleeding which they've already repaired.
Not long after she leaves, they come to take him to his room upstairs. I don't leave his side for a second. It's almost three in the morning when I pass out on the small lounger in his room. In the morning, they take him again to surgery, leaving me alone in the room.
"It's going to be a long day for him in there. Why don't you go get something to eat and come back this afternoon? We'll call you with any updates," the nurse tells me when she finds me sitting on the couch, probably looking like a hot mess. But I do as she says.
Going back to the hotel, I feel like a zombie. I can't look at the police tape in the parking lot behind the building, but I go in long enough to shower and order food. Sitting on the bed, eating alone, I reach over and touch the pillow he slept on last night. With a little bit of food and coffee, I start feeling human again.
I pull out my laptop and the first image that pops up in the drive is of the court case. Cullen is standing next to Valerie, staring down while she cries. I remember how I felt that day, and shame washes over me. How could I be so cold to him?
We've come so far since that day, both of us. Cullen had issues when I found him on the first day of class, abandonment and trust issues for sure. But so did I. I have been chasing the high of that day ever since, and I think deep down I was trying to fill the void that was left. I may not have hurt Cullen intentionally, but I hurt him nonetheless. No amount of good would make up for that.
The only thing that repaired those wounds was watching him change over the past weeks, letting himself be vulnerable and happy. If anyone had told me back then how it would end, I would have laughed, but here we are.
When I get back to the hospital, I hear his voice as soon as I get off the elevator. Rushing toward his room, I hear him mumbling, "Can you just call her, please?" As soon as I round the corner, our eyes meet, and the tears start to well up again.
Gasping, I drop my purse on the table and run to his side. There aren't as many wires or tubes anymore, and his right arm and legs are both bandaged. But he's awake. Before I can stop myself, I lean down and press my lips to his. He hums against the contact.
"Are you happy now?" the nurse behind me says. "I told you she'd come back."
"Are you giving your nurse a hard time?" I ask, my face only inches from him.
"He woke up an hour ago and has been begging me to call you ever since," she says, her voice laced with humor.
"I just wanted to see you," he mumbles.
"He's on a lot of pain meds, so he's being a little feisty."
I let out a quiet laugh. "He's always feisty."
Cullen's pupils are dilated and his skin is a little paler than usual, but he can't seem to tear his eyes away from me.
"Well, I'll leave you two alone. He's got another two hours before his next dose, but buzz me if you need anything."
As soon as she leaves, I sit on the side of his bed clutching the fingers of his good hand in mine.
"What happened to him? Did he get away?" he asks, and it takes me a moment to realize he's talking about George Ayers. He feels miles away from us already.
"He's gone, Cullen. His car crashed." Reaching down, I wish I could run my finger through his hair, but it's still hidden in the bandages. "You don't need to worry anymore."
His eyes search mine for a long time, and I'm sure the drugs are making it hard to process this news. Finally, he mutters, "It's over?"
"It's over," I reply, kissing him again.
A heavy exhale leaves his body as he lets his eyes close. His fingers squeeze mine, and I can't help the smile that tugs on my lips. The dread and the fear dissolve into thin air just like that. Cullen still has a long road left in his recovery, but we can finally focus on the future. The past can't hurt us anymore.
Epilogue
Cullen
Peeking through the window in the door, I notice the room is dim as the PowerPoint presentation is projected along the big wall at the front of the room. Quietly opening the door, I sneak into the lecture hall and take a seat in the back row. No matter how discreet I try to be, her eyes still find me mid-sentence. It'd be hard to miss me. My hair is still stark white, and there are a whole new batch of tattoos up my neck.
A subtle smirk pulls at her lips as she continues her lecture. Biting my lip, I watch her teach the same lesson I've listened to about twenty times already. My class ended twenty minutes ago, and I'd rather wait here in her class than go to the library or drive the car home.
After she dismisses her class, I stay in my seat, waiting for the room to clear out. She packs up her things and turns back toward me with a sly smile on her face. Without a word, I walk down the steps and close in behind her as she's sliding her laptop into the case. My lips find her neck and kiss a line up to her earlobe.
"I should report you to campus security for this," she whispers.
"I love when you wear this skirt," I mumble against her skin, ignoring her empty threat. My fingers pull the skirt up until I see the round peaks of her ass pressing against my pants.
"Someone could walk in, Cullen." She gasps as my hands slide along the thin line of her thong, tracing it to the front and dipping my fingers underneath the soft fabric.
"That's the fun part," I joke as I pull her face back so I can kiss her. She melts in my arms, especially when I slide a finger inside her.
"Lock the door," she pants.
"No chance. We're just going to have to risk it."
When she grinds her ass against my cock again, I know she's not stopping me. She won't outright tell me to fuck her, but that's part of the game we're playing. She's the dirty professor, and I'm her student, talking her into something she knows she shouldn't be doing.
I make quick work of my belt, tearing open my zipper until my cock is out and touching her soft warmth. After pulling her thong aside, I slide in easily, and we both fill the silent room with our moans. Her hands clutch at the hard wood as I pound into her. The tight grip I have on her shoulders gives her leverage to rock herself back toward me.
"We'll be caught," she moans.
"I know you want this," I reply, pushing her down so her hips are high and I can fuck her even deeper. She can't keep in her cries now, but she tries, moaning into the top of the desk. I reach into my back pocket and pull out my phone, quickly opening the camera and swiping it to the video and click the red button. I have a perfect view of her ass slamming against me, and I pan the camera to her face. She stares back at the screen, biting her lip, and it's so fucking hot I almost bust right there.