by Jenn Hype
He finally relaxes a little, and puts the bottle to his beautiful lips. Oh, I wish I was that bottle right now. He notices me staring, so I flick my eyes back up to his.
“Yeah, I’m a...uh...friend. Any idea where they transferred her?” He sits in the arm chair across from me, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees, staring at me intently.
“Not a clue, but something weird is going on there. One day Mayra was there, the next she’s gone, and when I asked about it they flipped out. I spent a lot of time with Mayra, so it’s not odd for me to be asking about her, but their reaction definitely was. Her chart is already archived so I couldn’t even look at it, and I don’t have access to the computer files.”
His shoulders tense and his hand tightens around the bottle so hard that his knuckles turn white, and I worry he’s going to shatter the bottle just by squeezing it. He doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“What makes you think her being transferred is weird?”
I shake my head, because really it’s just a feeling I have and I’m not even sure how to explain it. “I don’t know, but patients don’t get transferred often. And when they do, it’s usually at the request of a family member due to location change or finances. Mayra had no one, so I don’t know why she would need to go anywhere. If she was unhappy at Mayford and just wanted a change, she would have told me.”
My stomach growls, breaking the silence and pulling us both out of our thoughts.
“C’mon,” Bryce says pulling on my hand and leading me to my door.
“Where are we going?” Fumbling with my keys, I eventually get the door locked behind me and follow this sexy, mysterious stranger blindly to his car.
“To eat.”
Thirty minutes later we’re in a little diner just outside of town. We’re seated in a little booth in the far corner of a restaurant, where we’re talking about a secret mission to uncover the mystery of where Mayra went. It feels so clandestine, and I wish I had taken the time to change into something more fitting before we left. Maybe some black leggings and a black sweater, with black combat boots and leather gloves.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Bryce asks me as the waitress brings us glasses of water. He tells her we need more time and turns his attention back to me.
“I was wishing I had changed into something you would see a cat burglar wearing.”
“A cat burglar?” He asks with a laugh.
“Yeah, you know...like something a modern day Catwoman would wear. Hey! Do you think that’s why it’s called cat burglar?”
Bryce barks out a laugh so loud that people turn and stare. “No, I don’t think that term specifically comes from a cartoon character, but I do believe it stems from the parallel between cats and the type of thief.”
“Uh, you should go on Jeopardy. That’s some random factoid you just gave me.” I pick up my straw and hold it like a buzzer. “Yes, I’ll take ‘What is Random Cat Shit’ for six hundred, Alex.”
Bryce is still laughing when the waitress comes back. She’s eyeing him up and down, not even trying to be subtle with her admiration. I don’t blame her, he’s a freaking sight to behold. Especially when he’s smiling like this with his bright, pearly whites showing between his perfectly proportioned lips.
The gawking I get, but when she reaches out and flirtatiously touches his arm and giggles, my understanding takes a big leap out the window.
I’ve known Bryce for a little over two hours now, and while I’d love nothing more than to take him for a ride, I have absolutely no idea if the attraction is mutual. But I don’t need to have actual claim to him - she doesn’t know we aren’t together, and watching him flirt back with our slutty, albeit very pretty, waitress just pisses me off.
Hello? Am I freaking invisible here?
“Hey, can you guys save the shameless flirting for after I’ve eaten? I’m kind of losing my appetite with the visual I get watching it, no offense Bryce. I know you can’t help your condition, but it’s kind of gross.” I shrug, and force an apologetic smile. I’m shooting for pity on my face, and based on the disgusted look the waitress gives him when she sees it, I’d say I nailed it.
She tenses, and all her flirting disappears as she quickly takes our order and runs off.
“Nice cock-block, B-ray. Didn’t know you had it in you,” Bryce teases. He looks more smug than angry, and even though he’s right to feel smug, I still feel the need to try and convince him that me doing that had nothing to do with jealousy.
“Uh, first of all, it’s a little early for us to be giving out nicknames, but it’s a pretty cool one, so I’ll take it. Second of all, I was getting hungry and she wasn’t going to give up, so it just seemed the quickest way to get her to take my order. I’ll tell her I was joking before we leave so you can stick your man meat in her later tonight if you want.”
I pretend to mess with my phone, not wanting him to see just how much I want him to say he doesn’t really want her. I don’t really have a reason to look at my phone though, so after a few seconds it just looks weird, so I put it back in my purse and force my eyes to meet his.
His smug smile is gone, and I definitely did not expect to see heat reflected back at me in his eyes. He shifts in his seat, obviously rearranging himself inside of his pants so he’s more comfortable in his seat.
Dammit, he did want her.
“I’m sorry, it was rude of me. I’ll go apologize now,” I say as I move to get up. I place my napkin on the table and push out of the booth, but Bryce grabs my wrist and pulls me back down. His hand slides from my wrist to my hand, and his fingers twine with mine.
“She’s not the one I want.” His voice is low and sultry, and I feel it all the way to my core. When his thumb starts to rub soft circles on my wrist, I have to clench my thighs together, trying and failing to give myself some relief. He notices, and lust flashes in his eyes, and it takes everything in me not to jump up and drag him to the bathroom.
The waitress returns with our food, and I pull my hand from his, though he tightens his grip just enough that I have to tug hard to get my hand out of his.
Our plates drop heavily onto the table, and the waitress huffs before walking away without asking us if we need anything else. I don’t know if she’s still grossed out by what I said, or if she’s realized I was lying and is jealous of our hand holding, but I’m too elated to care.
That uncertainty about the mutual attraction is gone, that’s for sure. It’s a little intimidating with how affectionate he got all of a sudden, but I’ve been laying it on pretty thick since we met, so I guess I can’t get all bent out of shape when he reacts to it. It’s not like I’ve been over here playing hard to get. And based on the way he’s looking at me now - like he’d rather skip dinner and take me home and eat me instead has me squirming in my seat.
Yes, please!
The next hour is spent with Bryce explaining how he knows Mayra. She was part of a raid he did for the FBI, only a small child at the time being forced to live in miserable conditions, helping her criminal, drug addict parents cook meth, of all things. They kept in touch and she reached out to him a few days ago sounding upset, so he took a few days off to come check on her, only to find out she was gone.
“Let me handle this, Brailey. You aren’t trained for these things,” he bosses when I offer to do some digging.
“Well too bad you can’t stop me, huh?”
When he doesn’t answer, I roll my eyes and wipe my mouth delicately with my napkin, and excuse myself to the restroom. The door hasn’t even closed behind me when someone pushes it open and walks in. I don’t think anything of it until I hear the lock turn and feel a body pressed against mine.
Suddenly, I’m being spun around and pushed up against the wall roughly, and when I look into Bryce’s hungry eyes, I barely get out a gasp before his mouth comes crashing down on mine.
“Bryce, we’re in a public bathroom.” I laugh as I playfully push him away. He looks around for a secon
d, like a fog is clearing and he’s noticing his surroundings for the first time. When his eyes settle back on mine, my whole body reacts instantly. One look is all it takes to have my legs turn to Jell-O and my heart tripping over itself.
Without speaking he takes my hand in his and leads me straight out of the restaurant. I don’t need to ask; I know where we’re going. He just better get us there fast.
Chapter Nine
There’s no way to know for certain, but these dreams definitely feel like memories. Bad part is, I don’t know how accurate they are, and it only raises for questions for me instead of giving me any answers.
Dammit, I wish I had someone in my life to answer these questions.
Well, I suppose it’s a good thing my dream woke me up a whole hour before my alarm was scheduled to go off. I had to forego my usual nightly routine last night since I was holed up in my bedroom avoiding Wyatt, but luckily when I came out this morning he was gone and I had plenty of time to get ready for work. My hair is so long and thick that I usually wash it the night before and let it dry while I’m sleeping, otherwise it takes almost an hour to blow dry.
I still don’t know what the hell happened the other night, but I’ve decided I don’t care. Ever since Wyatt waltzed into my life, I’ve been walking around in a fog, unable to think about anything other than all the very inappropriate things I want to do to him - some sexual, some murderous.
Luckily I got everything ready on Friday for my first day at my new job, which I can’t believe is today. Not because it feels like time has flown by. Quite the opposite actually. In the short time since moving here, it feels like a months’ worth of time has passed.
The building I’ll be working in is only a couple blocks from my apartment, and it’s a nice day out, so I figure walking will give me a good chance to clear my head and mentally prepare.
Wrong.
I’m only a few steps outside of my apartment building when I hear Wyatt call out for me. My head falls back in frustration, but I don’t quit walking. In fact, I speed up. Doesn’t matter to me that he’s yelling for me to slow down, because he’s going to catch up to me soon enough since I’m in heels and he’s jogging.
“Brailey! Seriously!” He yells, and when several people on the sidewalk turn and look our way, I finally come to a halt and glare at him.
“Quit making a scene, Wyatt. What do you want?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“I was just gonna see if I could walk you to work. Your first day, right?” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans and gives me a shy smile, and I just want to stomp my foot and growl at how frustratingly adorable he looks. I know no matter what I say he’s just going to walk with me anyway, so instead of arguing I just start moving again, this time at a slower pace.
“I don’t need a chaperone just to get to work, Wyatt. I know you think I’m helpless, though I can’t figure out what gave you that impression, but I can manage walking a few blocks without anything bad happening.”
“What? I don’t think that.” He sounds sincere, but I’ve seen so many different sides to Wyatt already that I’m starting to wonder if he’s a really good liar or just has multiple personalities. There’s a good chance one of these days I’m going to end up getting whiplash trying to keep up with how quickly he changes from day to day.
“Really? Sure looks that way to me. You keep swooping in like some white knight, which honestly is getting kind of weird because you always seem to be there when something does happen. Come to think of it, you’re just always around. Do you even have a job?”
“Yeah, I uh, build websites, but I do it from home so I get to work a pretty flexible schedule. But listen, about the other stuff…” He trails off when I abruptly start walking away from him again, not wanting to hear what’s coming next. He grabs my hand and gently tugs me to a stop, and the tingling that spreads up my arm to my chest from his touch is almost enough to make me forget how pissed off he’s making me. Almost.
“I guess I have been acting protective when it comes to you, but it’s not because I think you’re weak or incapable of taking care of yourself, I just...shit, I don’t know.” He lets go of my hand and runs it through his hair, worrying his lip for a minute before turning back and pleading with me, “Can you just trust me?”
It’s an odd question from someone I really don’t know and my first instinct is to tell him to shove off, but the vulnerability in his eyes makes it hard for me to say anything at all. When I don’t respond right away he grabs my hand again and all my mental strength is spent ignoring the way my body lights on fire with his touch, effectively making me agree to something I may very well regret in a matter of minutes.
“Fine.” I watch the relief wash over his body from head to toe like a tidal wave, and he lets out a big breath that he must have been holding while waiting for my answer.
“Look,” I start, not really sure how to navigate myself through this situation, but I feel the need to put some guidelines to this whole ‘trusting a stranger’ thing. “I’m not good at reading people or situations so I don’t exactly trust my judge of character, but I also don’t want to be a jerk and not trust you right off the bat before getting to know you. So I have one condition that I’m going to put on our friendship and it’s a deal breaker.”
He winces at the word friendship, but I brush past that and continue on before I lose my nerve. “Honesty. I’m not talking little white lies to spare feelings, I’m talking big lies. Lies that would hurt someone if found out later. And because I’m still a little naive when it comes to other people, I probably won’t be able to tell if you’re lying, so I’m going to ask you to always be completely honest with me. I’ll trust whatever you say, until you give me a reason not to. One lie, however small, and I’m out.”
Just like that, Wyatt’s whole demeanor shifts. His grip on my hand loosens and he lets my hand fall to my side then looks at the ground, and when he looks back up the pain reflected back at me steals my breath away. In this moment, Wyatt’s face is so expressive, and I’m grateful for that, because I meant it when I said I’m not good at reading people.
“I promise you if I ever lie to you it will only be to protect you. You don’t know me, but you can believe me when I say I am loyal and honorable, and I will never hurt you intentionally.”
He’s skirting around my question and carefully wording his response in a way that if I weren’t paying attention would sound like an agreement, but I’m not a fool. I hear the hidden message loud and clear. Wyatt will lie if it’s convenient for him or when he deems it necessary in order to ‘protect’ me.
“Not good enough,” I say shaking my head and walking away from him.
“Brailey, please!” He pleads, grabbing my hand again. I don’t pull away from him, but I don’t turn around to face him either.
“One shot, Wyatt. That’s all you get.” I start walking again and he lets go of my hand, not bothering to follow me the rest of the way to work.
~
To sum up my first day of work? Disaster. I’ve never felt so incompetent in my life. How I made it through college and managed to get a nursing degree is beyond me. I’ve been telling myself that today was just one of those days where everything that could go wrong went wrong, and that it wasn’t my inability to do the simplest tasks that made the day so bad.
The walk home feels like it takes forever, my feet aching and my body worn down, and by the time I start up the stairs to my apartment all I can think about is taking a long, hot bath. I should have taken a cab home. Screw the fact that it’s only two blocks. Walking is stupid.
“Unless you’re waiting to give me a piggyback ride up the stairs, then now’s not a great time, Wyatt,” I mutter when I see him standing in the lobby, very obviously waiting on me. He turns around and crouches like he expects me to actually jump on, and dammit, it makes me laugh. I don’t want to laugh. I want to be tired and grumpy and miserable.
Neither of us saying anything as we climb the stairs si
lently. “So are you some creepy guy who just sits around waiting for people to go in and out of the building, or am I just lucky?” I ask sarcastically.
“Nope, you’re just lucky,” he answers with a wink.
“Alright then, thanks for walking me home. I can-“ Wyatt cuts me off when he breezes right past me as soon as the key is turned in my door handle. “Please, come on in. Make yourself at home. If you need me, too bad, because I’ll be soaking in the tub.” Wyatt lets out a low growl and I look at him quizzically, wondering why in the world he thinks it’s okay to be frustrated that I’m too busy to talk to him when he didn’t bother to let me know he would be stopping by ahead of time.
I hear the TV click on just as I turn on the faucet for the bathtub. While the tub fills up I brush my teeth and strip out of my clothes. The water is so hot it’s almost painful, but it quickly helps my muscles relax and I feel myself sinking into a comfortable oblivion.
Just a few minutes of peace is all I’m looking for, but not five minutes after climbing into the tub, a piercing sound startles me, making me sit up so quickly that water splashes over the side and soaks my floor. The door handles to the bathroom jiggles and Wyatt starts banging on the door. He’s yelling my name and telling me to come on, but I’m stuck in the tub, unable to move once I realize the sound is the fire alarm for the building.
The building is on fire.
Wyatt’s still yelling and banging, but it sounds like white noise to my ears. The room is spinning and my head is screaming at my body to move, but my arms and legs won’t comply. The banging and yelling on the door stops and I think Wyatt has given up on me and left to save himself, but seconds later the door to the bathroom bursts open and wood splinters scatter through the air.
