After they both left, Kristian drawled, “Well, that was unexpected.”
Agreed. Not a single person died.
I stood up and rounded the desk.
“Where are you going?” Kristian asked.
“To rehearse,” I announced and walked out.
I realized Mila might need some space. I didn’t like the idea—in fact, every cell demanded I drag her back to my bed where she belonged just to know she was mine. But I had to work with kidnapping the girl, threatening to kill her papa, and a slew of other serious offenses.
I could be patient when I really wanted something. But I didn’t want her; I needed her.
If this was what they called “love,” then I’d own it.
I never did anything half-ass.
rubatosis
(n.) the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat
I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy to get rid of Ronan. He might not be in the hospital room with me physically, but his presence was everywhere.
After the doctors examined me, I often thought they rushed out of the room, phones to their ears, to update him on my condition. Only D’yavol would receive that sort of hasty, nervous response.
The first conscious day in the hospital, a boy delivered a mini fridge full of vegan meals, a bag of dog food, and a note.
Eat.
—Ronan
I would have rolled my eyes at the demand a couple of weeks ago, but this time, it brought a smile to my lips and a throb to my heart.
Ronan had pulled some strings threatened someone to allow Khaos to stay with me, and I knew it because a dog’s portrait in the universal red no-entry sign decorated the wall outside my room. The gesture filled me with relief, because I didn’t think I could handle being alone with my thoughts right now. Khaos was the only thing holding me together.
Most of the staff steered far away from the surly tempered German shepherd, but a no-nonsense older nurse pushing into her sixties took the initiative to take him outside for bathroom breaks, even chiding him when he growled at her, which confused him enough to go along with it.
The second day, the boy delivered a new laptop loaded with every season of Forensic Files and another note.
If you want to know how to kill someone and get away with it, you only need to ask.
—Ronan
The third day, the boy delivered Pacifica shampoo and body wash, and, of course, a note.
Stop arguing with the nurses.
—Ronan
This time, I did roll my eyes. Not only was Ronan being informed by my doctors, it seemed my nurses were tattling on me to him too. I’d refused to bathe after having one of the staff read me the ingredients on the back of their shampoo. The bottle was practically stuffed with a tiny murdered animal. When I
finally washed my hair with Pacifica, my heart trembled little beats of longing.
The fourth day, the boy delivered two suitcases filled with clothes. Dresses, sweaters, underwear, shoes—it was practically an entire new wardrobe.
There are three pairs of pants under all that yellow.
Wear them.