Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81694 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Huck sighed. “Did you tell him? If not, you might want to wait. He will get worse if he knows.”
I hadn’t yet. Things were all very new and had changed overnight. I shook my head.
“Good. You need to be one hundred fucking percent sure before you do. Because you told him you loved him once. And it was a fucking disaster.”
We were going to have to discuss the past. It was clear I needed to hear the story before it went any further. I nodded.
“Another thing. When we have to handle things”—he didn’t elaborate on what those things were—“we all need you to just go with Trinity to Madeline’s. Don’t fight him on staying at your apartment. It’s already unsafe that he’s doing what he is now. But he’s made his claim on you clear. You can’t stay there alone, and if we need his focus on another issue, he needs to know you’re safe.”
When it was just us, I forgot about all this. The Mafia, the safety, the other stuff. Hearing someone else say it out loud made it real. Made me wonder how I had ended up in all this.
“Who is Madeline?” I asked.
“Blaise Hughes’s wife. You’ll meet her soon enough.”
I just nodded. I needed a moment alone. Glancing back at the door, I wasn’t sure how much longer this would be.
“I’ll be back. I need to go to the restroom,” I lied.
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. I turned and headed for the break room. I needed a drink of water, a slap across the face, because I had started a relationship with a man I couldn’t seem to say no to, who was also a dangerous, crazy person in the freaking Mafia.
Thirty-Two
Gage
The brace on my leg was annoying, but better than the cast. Just a few more weeks, and I’d have my body back. My gaze went to the front counter the moment I stepped out of the room, but Shiloh wasn’t there. I turned to Huck.
He shrugged. “She went to the restroom.”
I hated her being here during the day, but pushing her to quit was asking for too much right now. The uneasiness in her eyes hadn’t gone unnoticed by me. I was doing my best to reassure her this was okay. I’d swear to her whatever she wanted if she would stay with me. Losing her a second time wasn’t happening.
Restless, I shifted my gaze back to see Carmichael walking out of the exam room. “What restroom would she have gone to?”
He motioned for me to follow him, but I could see he wasn’t thrilled about this. I didn’t give a fuck. He’d get over it. Shiloh was mine. He paused at the open door leading into the restroom. It was empty.
I scanned the area and saw another door open and lights on. Not asking what room it was, I headed toward it. The fucking urgency in my chest to find her began to make my head pound. Reaching the door, I pushed it all the way open, and my eyes locked on her sitting at a table with a bottle of water in her hands.
She smiled at me and stood up, but the troubled look in her eyes wasn’t hidden that easily. Had Huck said something to her? She’d been fine when I walked in. I went to her, able to walk faster with the boot on instead of the cast.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I reached her, slipping my hand around her waist.
She smiled. “Nothing. I was just taking a break.”
That was a lie. Something was bothering her.
“Go home with me.”
A soft laugh escaped her lips, and she shook her head. “I can’t. I have to work.”
“Please,” I begged.
If I had her with me, I could remind her how this was good. More than good. It was fucking perfect. If she wasn’t with me, then she had time to get shit in her head.
“Gage, you know I can’t.” Her voice was gentle as she said it.
I gripped the back of her shirt in my fist. “I need you with me.”
She stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to my mouth. “I’ll be home later.”
“Now,” I bit out, hating being told no.
“I’ll see if I can get off early.”
Compromise. I had to learn to fucking compromise. I nodded, still not letting go of her. Part of me wished like fuck she could remember. So we could skip all this other shit. The other part, I knew, if she could remember, I wouldn’t be holding her right now.
“Let me know, and I’ll pick you up,” I told her.
“You can’t drive.”
“I can now.”
I wanted to tell her I loved her, but was that what I felt? Love seemed so damn weak. You loved pizza or horse racing or porn. This was consuming. More powerful than a word used flippantly.