Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104802 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Dean and Cillian discuss something in hushed tones. I can only assume it’s about me. Dean nods, then glances over Cillian’s shoulder at me. “If it’s okay with you, I’m gonna go. Like we said, Cil will stay with you, but if you need anything, you call me.”
“Fine. Whatever,” I say, not having it in me to argue. “Wait. Do I have my phone?” If I don’t, I’m fucked. Dad will never believe I lost it. I guess I can say it was stolen.
“Yes.” The nurse sets a clear bag on my thighs. “It’s in here with your clothes and wallet. We have your backpack too. Let me grab it.” She takes it out of a cabinet and Cillian takes it.
Dean leaves, and once the nurse gets everything together, she’s pushing my bed out of the emergency department and down the hallway. “Do you want me to take that too?” Cillian points to my lap.
“I’m good. I have it.” On reflex, my hand clutches the plastic tighter.
“Are you guys brothers?” the nurse asks.
“Dean was the brother. I’m the boyfriend,” Cillian tells her, and I fight myself not to react. Cillian calling himself my boyfriend makes my body heat both with anger and pleasure. I’m not proud of the second one.
She chatters while she pushes me into an elevator and then hits the button for the second floor. I open my bag and check my phone. The screen is cracked, which sucks, but it turns on and seems to work okay. When I open my wallet, the forty dollars I had are still there, and my debit card, but… “My driver’s license is gone…my school ID too.”
“Nothing else’s missing?” Cillian asks.
I look up at him, see his brows pulled together. When I say, “No,” he curses quietly. It doesn’t take a genius to understand why those things would be all that’s missing. Goose bumps erupt up and down my arms.
They wanted to know who I am.
Cillian’s jaw tightens, and I know he’s thinking the same thing.
The nurse doesn’t seem to realize anything is wrong, pushing my bed out of the elevator. She brings me to room 2035, and I sigh in relief when I realize there’s no one in there with me.
Another nurse comes in behind us, the two of them chatting while machines are hooked up again. She takes my vitals and gets a report of my condition. My pulse stumbles when she too mentions Cillian being my boyfriend, but for a second it takes my mind off the danger I might be in.
They ask me a couple of questions, then leave.
“Let me look in there.” Maybe I got lucky. Maybe my missing items are somehow in my backpack. One search tells me they’re not and the pit inside of me grows.
“We’ll take care of you,” Cillian says.
“I don’t need you to take care of me,” I snap. I’m not being fair to him right now, but I can’t seem to be able to stop.
He shrugs. “Okay.”
I frown, not having expected that answer. “Good.”
“You should get some rest.”
“Like that’s gonna happen.” It doesn’t matter how exhausted I am, the pain and worry keep doing laps in my brain, making me feel jittery and like my skin is suddenly too tight.
I jump when there’s a knock on the half-closed door. When it pushes open, I see Cillian stiffen as two uniformed police officers step inside, followed by the newest nurse.
“Are you up for a few questions?” she asks.
“No. He’s not,” Cillian answers.
“I don’t need you to answer for me.” I’m arguing with him even though I am not, in fact, up for a few questions.
“They can come back. I’d prefer it, but the officers insisted,” the nurse says.
Honestly, I want to forget this night ever happened. The best way to do that is to put it behind me. I turn to the officers and nurse. “I just want to get this over with.” Then maybe I can get on with my life.
I was attacked.
They have my identification.
She nods, then looks at Cillian. “Please let me know if it’s too much.”
I huff. Is she supposed to be talking to him? But then, as far as she knows, he’s really my boyfriend, and I haven’t said he couldn’t be in the room.
The nurse walks out, and the older officer, this white guy wearing a scowl, tells Cillian, “Sir, if you could—”
“Not a chance. I’m not leaving.” Cillian crosses his arms.
“What’s your name, son?” he asks.
Cillian’s expression changes to this dangerous, cocky smile that makes my stomach flip.
“Cillian O’Shea. You might have heard of my father—Rian O’Shea.” That fast, the expression on their faces changes, the older one’s tighter and angrier, while the other’s… I swear it almost looks like awe, the way his eyes sparkle and the corner of his mouth pulls up. “He’s mine, and I’m staying.”