The Bet

by D. K. Combs

  “Bristol,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Hmm?” She didn’t want to look at him. Acknowledge him. If she did that, she would be weak. And even though she was sitting in a hospital bed, “weak” was the last thing she wanted to present herself as to him.

  “Bristol, I didn’t finish the bet.”

  The laugh that burst out of her lips hurt, but it was worth it.

  “I swear. You can ask Madeline yourself. Or Chase. I didn’t do it.”

  “What, are you paying off Madeline to keep quiet about it now?” she asked. There was no way he hadn’t won the bet. She had seen it firsthand. He’d been leaning over Madeline, eyes locked with Bristol’s, lips lowering to her assistant’s lips.

  She’d seen it.

  “Bri, I swear to you—”

  “Your promises means nothing to me,” she hissed, looking away from him. “From the second you agreed to take on that bet, you knew you were going to hurt me.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to make it so intense between us—”

  “But you did,” she snapped, her throat burning in defiance. She angrily swiping at her cheek when a tear fell. She shouldn’t be crying. Not over this.

  Not over him.

  “You did, and you knew what would happen. You knew it wasn’t right, but you still did it anyway.”

  “Bri…”

  “I think you should leave,” she murmured, the fight draining out of her just as quickly as it had grown. “I want you to go. Thank you for bringing me here, but I just...think you need to leave.”

  “When I went to your house,” he said quietly, leaning forward so they were nose-to-nose, “I went there with one goal—to make you forgive me. I wasn’t going to leave until you did. I called it off, alright? I hate that I hurt you, I hate that our first time together was so angry. I hate that you’re sitting here right now. If I had just called it off from the beginning, I would have been with you, and I could have protected you from that.”

  “None of that matters now.” Even as she said the words, she knew they were a lie. The way he stared at her, the way he smelled... it was almost comforting. Knowing he had been there at all, that he’d saved her from whatever Tim would have done to her.

  “It does to me.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then took her hand. When she tried to take it away, he held fast, pulling it up to his lips. He spoke around her fingers, and the way his breath wafted over her skin had her stilling. “Bristol, I will be completely honest with you. I knew what I was doing, yes, but I didn’t mean for this”—he waved between them—“to happen. I didn’t want to crave you the way I did. I didn’t want to keep seeing you, pushing you. I didn’t want to start feeling for you—but I did. Bristol, there’s something about you…”

  “Bullshit,” she said, though there wasn’t much strength to her voice. Her stomach did flip-flops, and she knew her face was red. She hated herself for falling for the words, but she wanted so badly to believe that for once, she didn’t have to be alone—and that’s exactly what Noah was presenting to her.

  “I swear,” he said, bowing his head over her hand. “Even if my word doesn’t mean anything to you, it means everything to me. Bristol, I just...want another chance. Another chance with you. I won’t ever take on another bet. If you give me second chance, I will do everything differently.”

  She studied the lines of his face, saw the sincerity, the remorse. It was engraved into his face as firmly as it was his voice, his eyes, and she wanted so badly to fall for it—but she knew better.

  “Noah, I… I don’t know how to be a girlfriend, or a wife. I’ve always been the business woman. The boss. I have so much in my past that I’ve never shared, and tonight it all just...attacked me. Literally. This is just… It’s too much for me.”

  He dropped her hand to hold her cheek. She couldn’t help herself from turning into the caress. God, she hated herself for craving that simple touch, and hated her body even more for giving into him.

  “You can tell me, Bristol. All of it. I’ll listen.”

  She opened her mouth. To say what, she wasn’t sure, but the door of the suite opening saved her.

  “Knock, knock,” a familiar voice called, peeking around the door. “It’s me.”

  Noah dropped her hand, turning around. His posture was instantly defensive and she touched his arm before thinking. Still, that soft touch worked and some of the tension left him.

  “Hi, Dr. John,” she said quietly, taking her hand back when he stepped into the room fully. Seeing him was like a breath of fresh air, and she couldn’t help the relieved smile that came over her face.

  Noah looked back at her, then him. He stepped aside when Dr. John came up to her bedside.

  “I heard what happened and came as soon as I could. The kids are all excited to see you before you leave, if you’re up to it. I also spoke with your doctor, and nothing was seriously damaged. You will be hoarse for a few days, though.” He raised a brow at Noah. “I remember you. Are you and Bristol a thing?”

  “Hopefully,” he said, at the same time she said, “Probably not.”

  “Well, either way. What happened, Bristol?” He sat on the edge of the bed. Dr. John had been there for her since the beginning. He was the one man she felt safe with—except for Noah, before he screwed up. Dr. John knew her story from beginning to end.

  She glanced at Noah, who stood there with his arms over his chest. Getting him to leave would be like moving a mountain, she realized, deciding that if he really was serious about sticking around, then now was the time to prove it.

  She had never tried to unload on someone before, had never thought anyone would care. He’d seen the worst part of her life to date, had put himself in danger for her. He deserved to know.

  “Tim found me,” she said, watching both Dr. John’s and Noah’s expressions. Noah was less than surprised, whereas Dr. John immediately scowled. “I don’t know how. He, uh...I didn’t check who was at the door, opened it, and there he was.”

  “How did this happen?” he asked, waving a hand at her throat. She touched it gingerly, closing her eyes.

  “He wouldn’t leave and I didn’t have beer, so he just...exploded.”

  “But you were there,” Dr. John said, turning to Noah. “You let this happen to her?”

  Noah made a deep sound in the back of his throat.

  “No, no,” she said quickly, voice hoarse. “He came as Tim was choking me. He, uh...he knocked him out, I guess, then brought me here.” She looked at him for confirmation, and he gave it with a nod.

  “Is he still there?” Dr. John asked, digging around as something beeped in his pocket.

  “I’m really not sure… If you have to go, it’s okay,” she said when he looked between her and his phone. He stood with a sigh, then leaned down to give her a brief hug.

  “I will call and have someone over to make sure he’s not there before you get home. Do you want the police to take him in if he is?”

  She shook her head quickly. “No, I—”

  “Bristol, he attacked you—”

  “I know this, but…no. No, I don’t want him arrested.” And she had no clue why.

  “I’ll get this taken care of. You get some rest, Bristol. Also, that donation you made—I wanted to let you know it’s been claimed. A social worker brought in a case, and—”

  “Thank you, Dr. John. I know you did the right thing with it.”

  He gave her a quick smile, then quickly left the room, leaving her with a furious Noah.

  “Why won’t you let that guy get locked up? He could have killed you—”

  She held up a hand, and his lips pressed mid-sentence. She hated admitting this. Hated thinking about it. But Noah had said she could tell him anything, and that he’d listen to it, all of it. When she spoke, her voice hoarse and burning with the remembered pain of thick hands cutting off her airways.

  “Tim is my father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I’m reall
y not sure this is a good idea. I don’t—I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Noah.”

  “Would you rather he show up at your house again?”

  Noah walked into the house and flicked on the lights, dropping her bags in the mudroom. He quickly turned around to take her hand as she stepped over the threshold. Yeah, she might be able to walk just fine, but he still felt obligated to help her.

  It only made it better when he saw her pale cheeks turn pink.

  “I could just as easily stay the night at a hotel. You didn’t have to offer to—”

  “I wanted to,” he interrupted her firmly, guiding her into the kitchen. “I can take all of this up to my room if you go sit on the couch. The remote is on the coffee table. Do you need water? Hot chocolate? Tea and honey? I can go to the store real quick—”

  “No, that’s okay,” she murmured, shaking her head and doing as he said. She didn’t want to put him out more than she already was. He had done a lot for her already tonight. Anything else could wait.

  She sat down on the couch, not bothering to grab the remote. It wouldn’t do her any good—she wouldn’t know how to use it, and didn’t want to break anything by trying. A moment later, he came by with a glass of water.

  “Oh, Noah, I said I didn’t—” Once the glass was in her hand, he took off without another word. She watched him carry up all her bags, gratefulness overwhelming her nearly to the point of tears.

  When he had offered, she had nearly said no. She was still hurt, still feeling the sting of betrayal. She believed that Noah had dropped the bet, but that didn’t change the fact that he had knowingly done something that would hurt her.

  This, though… This almost made up for it.

  She made sure he was out of eyesight, then downed the glass like a woman dying of thirst.

  After dropping the bomb that Tim was her father, she hadn’t said anything else about it—and he hadn’t pressed her on it. All he had done was ask if she wanted a safe place to stay. She’d hesitated, and thankfully, he had resorted to his old Noah way and taken the choice right from her.

  “We will go to your place and pack a few bags. You’re staying with me for now.”

  She had tried to be angry, but the strength for it hadn’t been in her.

  And, if she were honest with herself, the thought of going back to that empty house, to the wine stains, the shattered glass, the reminder that he had finally found her… The possibility that he could show up again and finish what he’d started... It had terrified her.

  Noah came back down the stairs, steps heavy, and then sat on the couch beside her.

  Just having him next to her calmed her nerves.

  “Everything is ready for you upstairs. An extra towel in case you want to shower, that kind of stuff.” He held his hand out for the glass and she slowly handed it over, just for him to stride into the kitchen and come back a moment later with the cup filled again.

  “Take this up with you. It’s late, I know you’re tired, so go. Do you work in the morning?”

  She had texted Madeline that she wouldn’t be in tomorrow, so she shook her head. Honestly, until she was done having random panic attacks, she wouldn’t be able to handle going back to work.

  “Good. Then we can figure some things out tomorrow.” He held his hand out to her, dragging her to her feet. “Let me help you up the stairs.”

  She didn’t say anything in return.

  She couldn’t. She was too focused on the way his hand cradled her elbow, on the way he walked so close behind her. Every inch of her skin tingled, and the sensation spread to her stomach, sliding lower...

  No, she thought quickly, shaking her head. After the night she’d had, after the day she’d had, the last thing she needed was to crave him.

  What she needed was sleep—without him.

  She looked back down at him, a thought coming to her. “If I’m sleeping upstairs, where are you sleeping?”

  He put a hand on her back, the small touch somehow having the power to burn right through her clothes. She shouldn’t be reacting to him. Shouldn’t want him.

  “I’ll be down here, like last time.”

  That was the last thing the two of them said to each other. He walked her to his room, watching her step over the threshold. Bristol didn’t walk to the bed until he’d taken the handle, nodded his head, then ducked out of the room while closing the door behind him.

  She couldn’t look away from the door. Even after he’d left, even after she had heard him walk down those steps, she wasn’t able to move until she realized the glass in her hand was starting to chill her fingers. She glanced at it, then took a sip and walked to the bed.

  She pulled her sweatshirt over her head, going to her night bag. She didn’t want to wear the silk pajamas she’d been discharged in. Tomorrow, she was throwing them out. She wanted not a single reminder of what had happened tonight.

  Once she was in a long T-shirt and baggy sweatpants, she pulled back the covers and laid down. With the silence in the room, and knowing she was in a safe place, she should have passed right out.

  Instead?

  Falling asleep was impossible.

  Her body craved it, her mind craved it. She was so weak that even lifting the cup was hard, but no matter how many positions she tried to fall asleep in, nothing worked. She even took off the sweatpants, and that didn’t help, either.

  She knew why.

  The pillows, the sheets… They didn’t smell like her home. Rather, they smelled like Noah—musky, exotic. The scent of him was imbedded into every thread of the pillow she laid on, into every thread of the sheets that covered her. It put her closer to him than she would like—closer to him than she could handle. She was supposed to hate him, and yet, she found herself softening, warming, clutching the pillow like if she squeezed hard enough, it would turn into him.

  At this rate, she was never going to sleep. She forced him out of her mind—well, tried to.

  When she closed her eyes, she didn’t see the blackness she wanted—no, she saw deep black eyes set in a stoic, handsome face.

  She wanted to go down to him, to simply...see him.

  But she couldn’t. That would give him the wrong idea, would give her the wrong idea. She wasn’t liable for what she did around him, so she settled for thinking of him until her eyes closed. Finally, she was drifting off to sleep…

  And then the handsome face of the man she wanted…changed, morphed. He grew jowls, dark hair became long and gray. His dark stubble turned into a full-blown gray beard, and then his lean features transformed into a puffy, red face.

  Tim.

  She jacked into a sitting position, heart pounding, the image burned into her memory. She reached for her glass of water—then realized it was empty.

  Her head fell back on a groan.

  “Maybe he’s asleep by now,” she whispered, thinking a distraction would help. Getting water could help clear her mind, right? “I’ll just...get some water, maybe take a hot shower.” Something, anything, to find sleep. If that meant sneaking downstairs, then so be it.

  She slid out of the bed and looked down at the sweatpants she’d tossed aside. It’s easily been thirty minutes since he went down, and with how late it is, she couldn’t imagine him staying up much later.

  That’s the only reason she didn’t bother with the sweatpants. The T-shirt was long enough to cover her mid-thigh, and plus—she had a robe. She crawled out of bed and rummaged through her bag, sliding the silky robe over her shoulders when she found it.

  The door opened soundlessly, and she crept down the stairs, holding onto the railing. Even though she had only suffered pain in her throat, the events had taken so much out of her that she really did feel too weak to walk without much support.

  To her dismay, the TV was on. The living room was just to the right of the stairs, with the arm of the couch being the first thing she saw. The TV was on the same wall the end of the stairs were. The flickering colors bounced off the couch and the figur
e lying there.

  She peered around the corner tentatively, trying to get a better view of the scene in the living room.

  He had a white knit blanket pulled over him, and he was leaning against the armrest of the sectional, body languidly spread out on the couch. She couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not because the shadows and lights created by the TV masked his face, but his head was propped on his hand, so there was a chance she’d gotten lucky.

  With a little more confidence to her step, she fisted the sleeves of her robe and then finished sneaking down the stairs. She got as far as the entry of the kitchen before she heard his voice.

  “Hey, you okay?” He sounded groggy, so he had been asleep.

  She stuck the glass under the water dispenser in the fridge, biting her lip. He had one of the sexiest voices when he was sleepy, she thought, hating herself. She didn’t want to think things like that, she didn’t want to feel tendrils of desire immediately start pooling in her gut.

  She didn’t want any of that.

  “Yeah, no, I’m fine. Go back to bed,” she said quietly. When the cup was full, she power walked out of the kitchen and went back to the stairs.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked before she took the first step. She hesitated, despite herself. There was rustling behind her, and she just knew he was sitting up. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No, Noah. Really, I’m—” She paused mid-sentence. She had looked at him over her shoulder, and was sorely regretting it. Apparently, he liked to sleep shirtless, because now that he was sitting up, there wasn’t a blanket to shield his bare chest. The light flickered off of it, drawing her attention like a moth to a flame, and she swallowed nervously—and promptly winced.

  “If you need to talk…”

  She started to shake her head but stopped herself. She didn’t know why. All she knew was Noah looked relaxed, he looked comfortable, and he looked...he looked like safety. None of which she felt. She felt nervous, exposed. She felt like she was failing to make sense of everything, and yet he sat there so calmly, so openly.