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The Broken Puppet (The Elite King's Club 2)

Page 59

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She opens her mouth, ready to defend herself, when she exhales in defeat. “Girl, you have no idea.”

Actually, I do.

The door opens again, and Bishop walks in with the nurse from earlier scurrying not far behind him. “Usually the doctor would need to discharge you, but he’s left it to me. You will need to eat something and sign paperwork at reception on your way out.” She smiles, but it’s strained, not reaching her eyes. She’s just about to say something when another nurse walks in, pushing a cart full of food.

“Thanks,” I murmur. I hate hospital food, but I can stomach a sandwich. Especially if it gets me out of here.

I take a bite, finishing it in record time before looking back to the nurse. “Thank you.” I nod then gaze to Bishop, who’s staring at me with his jaw clenched. Great. What the hell have I done now?

“Where’d Nate go?” Bishop finally breaks the awkward silence as the nurse starts removing my IV drips.

I wince slightly. “Home to get my room ready or something.”

Bishop smiles and then looks to Tatum. “You didn’t want to go with him?”

Tatum narrows her eyes on him. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because you’re you.”

The drive home was painful. Between Bishop and Tatum both making a fuss over everything, I was almost ready to jump out of a moving vehicle on the freeway and walk home. And if I did, I would have survived, because for the first time ever, Bishop was going 10 mph, not wanting to go over potholes and bumps in the road.

Walking up the stairs, I push open my bedroom door, annoyed at both of them and wanting some space, but when I walk in, I gasp. “What the…?”

Nate sits on a mattress at the foot of my bed and has spread out the entire surface with cheesecakes, gummy bears, and my favorite chocolate, Debauve & Gallais’s Le Livre.

There are sushi rolls lined in a circle platter with soy dipping sauce in the middle. Next to it is a round of tacos, and all the dipping sauces for fries and potato skins.

“Nate!” I smile. If I wasn’t so sore, I’d jump his bones.

“Hey, Kitty.” He grins, and because he’s Nate, he looks all seductive. Or maybe I’m turned on by the food. “You hungry?” He wiggles his eyebrows and flexes his pecs.

I roll my eyes. “Yes, my God.”

“Wow, Riverside, you sure know how to put on a show,” Tatum mutters, walking into the room and grabbing her bag. She looks at me. “I’m going to go home, sleep for a hundred days in my own bed, and not talk to anyone for at least a month. She smiles, walking up to me and pulling me in for a hug. “I’ll text you, okay?”

Nodding, I smile. “You better.” Then she turns and exits, leaving me to deal with both Nate and Bishop.

“Actually,” Nate smiles, getting off the mattress and dusting off his pants, “I didn’t do any of this. Bishop did.” He leans down, stealing a taco and shoving it into his mouth.

“So you just took it? No correcting me or Tatum?” I arch my eyebrow.

He shakes his head, swallowing his food. “She’s fun to play with. That’s all.”

I unzip my hoodie and toss it onto my bed. “Don’t hurt her, Nate.”

“Hey!” He throws his empty hands up. “She knows where I stand. It’s not my fault if she catches feelings. She’s good in bed. That’s all I want.”

“What? And fuck around on her in the meantime?” I ask, reaching up and touching the gauze that’s wrapped around my head.

He watches me and then cusses under his breath. “None of that matters. We aren’t a thing. There’s only one—or maybe two girls who had the power to change that, and one of them was you. Anyway, you feeling okay? You need anything?” He looks to Bishop, who is sprawled out on my bed, shirtless with gray sweatpants on and the rim of his Calvin Klein briefs poking out the top.

I’m screwed.

“I’m sure B will take care of you, right?”

Bishop reaches forward on my bed and grabs the remote, flicking the TV on. “Go to bed, Nate.”

Nate winks at both of us before walking back through to his room. Bishop must push Play on a movie because it cuts through our silence. But it’s not an awkward silence or the kind of silence you feel when you’re in a room with someone you’re uncomfortable with.

“I’m just going to take a shower,” I say to him, walking to my closet to get a pair of sweatpants and a tank top.

He nods, watching as I pass him. Once I’ve gathered everything I need, I flick the light off and start walking back toward the bathroom, only Bishop catches my hand as I pass him, his fingers caressing my palm.



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