Break Me

In his arms, I agree to block his calls, but any messages Ryan sends, he wants to not only know about, but he wants to see them. I make him promise to do the same with Missy.

He looks down at me and tries not to smirk. “She’s called twice. Does that make you jealous?”

I pout. “Very.”

“Hmm . . .” He pulls my head to his chest, and I swear he is chuckling.

“It’s not funny.”

“Sorry, angel, but it actually feels really good.” He pulls back and looks down. “I’m fucked up.”

“Then we are perfect together.”

“Damn right we are.”

We eat brunch, and then I make my way into the bedroom to change the sheets. He smirks when he sees me carrying them out, and I giggle. He makes me feel that way—happy.

“Lo, these boxes have been stacked up in the living room for a while,” he points out when I come back through.

“What’s in them?”

“Stuff from your sister’s room: a few photo albums, some jewelry, and a diary I found under her mattress. There’s also stuff from your room in that basement. Not all the granny panties made it.”

I feel my face turn beet red, and he laughs.

“I’m kidding. No woman ever looked hotter in briefs, Lo.”

I don’t say anything because I am seriously concerned with my wardrobe now.

“Lo?”

“I need to go shopping,” I declare. “I ordered everything, and I know it’s probably not what you’re used to, and I—”

“Slow down, Lo. I was joking. To be honest, you in scrubs does it for me. You naked ensures you’ll always do it for me.”

“I want to go shopping,” I repeat.

“Then we’re going shopping.” He nods. “But understand, I’m gonna be making you try on everything.”

Jason places four bags in the backseat of the car then climbs in. He looks over at me, and I see that he is happy, so happy.

He leans over and grabs the back of my head, pulling me to him. “I can’t believe you wouldn’t let me watch you change.” Then he kisses me.

“I can’t believe I didn’t, either,” I grumble, narrowing my eyes at him.

“That’s on you.” He reaches over and grabs my seatbelt, snapping it in place before starting his car.

I remain quiet, thinking about how very jealous I am of the way the salesclerks and shoppers looked at him. He is hard to miss. Over six feet tall with spiky, blond hair; piercing green eyes; and a light shadow of a beard dusting his square, chiseled jaw. He has on black, worn jeans that hang low on his narrow hips and a light gray T-shirt tucked in that does nothing to hide his broad chest, bulging biceps, or the muscled forearms.

He takes my hand and pulls it to his lips. “You’re quiet.”

“It’s exhausting,” I say as I lean my head back.

He chuckles. “Shopping?”

“No, watching all of those women check you out.” I sigh. “I don’t like it.”

“There were women in the stores?” he questions, looking over at me.

I roll my eyes. “Yes.”

“All I saw was you.” He smirks. “And underwear.”

“Yes, I am aware that you saw underwear.” I smirk, pointing behind us at all the bags filled with them.

“I can’t wait to take them all off of you,” he says in a throaty voice.

Going back to work is not something I want to do, but I love my job. I have to keep telling myself that, because deep down I know it’s true, though I don’t care right now.

Every day, I am faced with a new tragedy, the unexpected, looking into the eyes of someone who has just had their world rocked by the unforeseen. Every day, I feel their pain, and every day, I cannot wait to run back to Jason.

I stand in the nurses’ lounge, gathering my things to head home. I smile at the thought and shake my head.

“Everything okay, Lorraine?” I jump when I hear Dr. Bennett behind me. “Did I scare you?”

I turn around and shake my head. “No, just startled me a bit. That’s all.”

“You seem detached, like you’re not really all here,” he says as he sits down.

“I’m fine. Truly, I am,” I respond as I put on my coat and turn around. “How are you?”

“I’m worried about you.” He looks up at me. “The man you’re living with is violent, Lorraine. You can’t feel good about that. It has to dredge up bad memories.” He raises his eyebrows at me and lowers his voice. “I know he’s the patient we treated who wouldn’t give any information. I’ve known since he brought you in. He lives a dangerous life, Lorraine.”

“I understand your concern, and I truly appreciate it, but he is a good man.”

“And you believe this?” The flippant way he says it rubs me the wrong way. It confuses me, makes me feel defensive. Regardless, I know it’s out of concern.