“Do you need me to call security or help?” she offers and I only shake my head. Asking her if she recognized the woman proves she doesn’t. She hadn’t seen her come in and didn’t get a good look at her when she left.
When I get back to the nurses’ station, still feeling the cold blistering my cheeks, I check the log for visitors, and I recognize most of them. There are no new names on the sign-in sheet and no one named Cami.
She was here though; I know she was.
Seth
The front door opens with a soft creak. It could have been silent and Laura still would’ve heard. She’s waiting for me.
“Where were you?” The accusation is out of her mouth before she can even lift her head from the back of the sofa to glare at me.
Guilt-ridden, I close the door behind me and toss the keys onto the entryway table.
“With Jase and Declan.”
She grabs the remote from next to her and taps it against her thigh, an agitated sigh leaving as she does.
“I didn’t mean to be gone so long.” I tell her before she can yell at me, “I felt like shit leaving you here.” I felt like shit there, which is why I took so long. The meds work for pain, but I fell apart the moment I sat down at the estate. Sleep and an IV proved useful for getting me back on my feet. I could have done that here, though. Next time, I will.
She doesn’t respond, but her gaze softens at least.
“How are you doing?” I ask as I take each step to her with careful intention.
“Okay… Work was fine,” she answers, flicking off the television in the middle of a scene. If I had to guess, she wasn’t invested in it. Licking her lower lip, she stares at her socks as she pulls her legs into her chest. “How long have you been home?”
“Two hours. I couldn’t sleep.”
“You want me home when you sleep?” I ask her, needing to come up with a solution before she can even finish the complaint. She nods, her chin nestled against her knees. “If I’m not allowed to leave, you should at least be here.”
“I know,” I agree and fall onto the sofa, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her in. “I know. I’m sorry.” The second she settles her head onto my chest, I kiss the crown of her head. She’s still got her arms hugging herself and is in a huddled ball, but at least she doesn’t seem to be angry. Pulling her in closer, I tell her, “I had a difficult time this morning and it lasted a few hours. I had to decompress for a moment and when I did, I realized I lost track of time.”
“Where?” Her question isn’t spoken lightly. “You couldn’t decompress here?”
“I was pretty worked up,” I answer her although I’m hiding a lot of it. I’m still angry. More than angry. The three of those men could die a thousand deaths and they’d still deserve more. The anger I can push down, but damn was I worn out. I felt like death. The doc told me I shouldn’t be pushing it like that, but I have to do what I have to do.
“You can be worked up and still come home,” she says and her tone is less pissed off and more pleading as she peeks up at me. “There’s beer in the fridge.”
Before she can look away, back to the blank television screen, I grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger and plant a quick kiss against her lips. “Thank you.”
Her eyes stay closed for a long moment and she asks before she opens them, “For what?”
“For not being too mad.”
A sad smile graces her lips. “I don’t want to fight. I’m finding it hard to be mad these days.”
I don’t care for how she says it. It shifts something inside me although I don’t know why. “I got you a gift.” I wasn’t going to tell her but seeing her like this, I had to say something to make the smile turn genuine.
“What is it?”
“It comes in the mail, so you have to wait.” The answer makes me feel like an ass and when she rolls her eyes, that makes it worse. “It’s flowers. Every two weeks, flowers will come in the mail.”
“Really?” The interest in her voice and the sweet blush on her cheeks make it worth it.
“Really.” I add, “They had options for the kinds you like and I picked the wildflower type and roses too. I know you like a mix, but you always smile at the roses too.”
With sleep in her eyes, her hair still damp from a shower and wearing nothing but my t-shirt and a pair of short shorts for bed, Laura looks up at me and instead of saying a word, she steals a kiss.
It’s quick and in return I give her a smile; the kind you feel in your chest. That’s all I want. That warmth in my chest, that love from her. It’s fucking everything.
“Better?” I ask, feeling the weight of the world leave my shoulders.
“A little.” She bristles and adds, “I still don’t like being alone here.”
Rubbing my neck with my free hand, the one not wrapped around her waist, I answer her, “I know. It won’t happen often. And you’ll like it here more when you move your things in.”
I anticipate her arguing based on her initial reaction, judging from the small gasp of protest that leaves her and the way her lips part, but she hesitates and then closes her mouth, opting for a small nod. “Yeah,” she says, stretching forward and then standing. “You’re right. I need to move my things in.” Her tone drops, as does her gaze.
I don’t know what to make of her reaction. Something’s wrong and off and I don’t know what. She isn’t right. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” she says as gets up.
As she makes her way to the kitchen, I see she’s spackled the wall over the hole I punched in it. She cleaned up and that spackle is the only evidence left of anything that started our recent downfall. I hate the numbing prick that climbs over me at the memory of it. I’ll paint it in the morning, getting rid of any evidence at all. Maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s what made her react like that.
“You want a beer?” Laura asks me and when I move my gaze to her, I get a full-on view of her sweet curves as she bends down, opening the fridge and taking out a bottle of ginger ale in one hand and a beer in the other, holding it up in offering.
“Yeah,” I answer, readjusting on the sofa. She could do anything, anything at all and it would be sexy as fuck. But offering me a beer in short shorts has to be at the top of my fantasy list now. “No wine?” I question her as she closes the door with her hip.
“My stomach is messed up. But I’ve got it when I’m ready for a glass.” Her tone is flat and sleep weighs down her eyes. With the ice tinkling against her glass, she sits back down, sipping her drink and passing me my beer.
It’s quiet as we both have a drink in silence. I fucking hate the odd tension between us. “Are we okay?”
“What?” She’s confused at first and I simply wait for her to answer. “Yeah, we are.”
“I just want to feel like we’re okay and something… I want to see you happy.”
“You’re sweet.” She smiles up at me, squeezing my hand. “When did that happen?”
“Guess you’re rubbing off on me.”