Page 29 of Sweet (Chicago Underground 7)
“Don’t listen to him,” I said.
Drew gave me a crooked smile. “How do you know what he’s been saying?”
“I can imagine. Did he say you’d be fired if you dated me? Because he’s totally bluffing.” I hoped, anyway.
“No, he didn’t say that. But I… Rose, I have to be straight with you.” His voice cracked, and in that sound, I heard the hollowness I’d been so afraid of, saw the invisible hands already gripping him. He was safe and healthy, or he would be soon, but he was lost to me, leaving me.
“This is because of my brother. Whatever he said, whatever he threatened you with—”
“No,” he snapped, and I almost wanted to acquiesce then so he wouldn’t strain himself so soon. But I couldn’t walk away, not when relief had been so strong. He was embedded so deeply that if I pulled him out now, I’d bleed all over the floor.
His mouth worked, forming the words before forcing them out. “How can I ask you to wait for me?”
Impossibly, a rough laugh emerged. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for you. I wouldn’t know how to stop.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Then I suppose it didn’t matter that he’d carved his way into my heart, that he’d sliced into my soul. He’d ripped me to shreds and then lovingly handed back the pieces. Here, he said kindly, and I wanted to cry.
“I have a week in the hospital, at least, and after that, I don’t even know what condition I’ll be in, how long it will be until I can get around.”
I met his eyes. “You think I would care about that?”
“I care, damn it.” His nostrils flared. “You
finally left Philip’s place and started your studio. The last thing you need is me whining to you over the phone.”
My teeth clenched. “You insult us both.”
Anguish flooded his gaze, pain and embarrassment and a sense of helplessness all swirling together in a dark well. “Just go home, Rose. You’ve been here all night. You look awful.”
My laugh was watery. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… Hell. I just want you to go home and rest. All I’m going to do is lie here, but if you’re here too, I’ll worry about you.”
“How can I leave you like this?” I whispered.
He glanced at the beeping, blinking machinery that held him in its web. He looked down at the thin white sheets that covered him. “Because I’m asking you to.”
I turned and blindly stumbled from the room, because I could do no less than what he wanted from me, no less than what he’d done for me once. I walked past a stone-faced Philip and out into the still night, dropping tears like breadcrumbs as I left the man I’d come to think of as home.
The winking stars lent me comfort and lured me away from the yellow cabs streaking through the street. I turned the corner, heading on autopilot for the one place left to me. The only thing still whole. The glue that would keep me together when my family and my love were both lost.
A small crowd gathered late at night in the coffee shop. I pushed blindly past them. A couple sat on the benches in the courtyard, making out, their caresses well hidden by thick jackets and hats. I ducked my head against the vortex always present here, a result of three walls and Chicago’s windy weather.
The key slid into the lock. It didn’t turn.
I tried again, jiggling a little before I lifted my gaze. A large pink paper was taped from the inside. Voluntary Operating Permit Injunction. Looked like Philip had followed through on his threat after all.
Which left me with exactly nothing.
Chapter Twelve
I rang the doorbell a second time, shifting the grocery bag to my other hip. I heard shuffling behind the silver-plated door, achingly slow. Then it opened.
A heather-gray T-shirt hung from Drew’s broad shoulders, showing just a hint of smooth skin low on his hips where blue sweatpants sat. I’d always had a fetish for crisp, starchy fabrics, but somehow the loose, baggy fabric emphasized the hard lines of his body. It would have been sexy and adorable if it weren’t for the scratches on the side of his face.
Crisscrossed patches along his cheek and temple. Shallow cuts, surface signs of the deeper trauma his body bore within. Three fractured ribs, a concussion. Severe bruising, lacerations. A goddamn miracle he was still alive, much less standing.
