I didn’t know what to say, so when the elevator dinged open, I leaned my head on his arm. “Let’s just go home.”
* * *
Madden was asleep in the master bedroom and I had managed to take a very long and very hot shower, scrubbing my skin raw to get the feeling of the blood off me.
I pulled on a pair of leggings from my own bag that had been sitting in the foyer, now devoid of blood and the Oriental rug.
My favorite University of Maine sweatshirt hung past my thighs and I twisted my hair up and slid a large clip over it. Clean and in my own clothes, I felt a thousand times better. The house was quiet as I went down the carpeted stairs to find the kitchen. I avoided looking at the spots where the floor had been covered bright red as I moved through the room. I had no idea who had cleaned it all up, but I was grateful.
I’d seen enough blood to last a lifetime.
My stomach rumbled loudly. It was eight in the morning and I didn’t really remember the last thing I’d eaten. After last night, I wasn’t even sure I could eat again, but the gnawing pain as**sured me that I could.
I needed to get something for myself and for Madden when he woke. The marbled hallway led toward the back of the house and there were paintings on the walls that seemed more like a third grade art project than anything else. There were similar works hanging in the Cross building and I was sure that whoever had done them was someone of note.
The whole house was a showpiece but there wasn’t a single thing in it that made me think of Madden. There were no pictures, no souvenirs or personalization. It was very beautiful, stunning actually, but it was cold.
So it is like Madden, a voice in my head chided.
No, that was only a part of him. There was so much more to his life and I’d caught glimpses of it—enough to know that Madden Cross only got deeper and deeper the more you learned, like a lake that turned out to be deeper than the Mariana Trench.
I found the kitchen and grabbed a few fancy bottled waters from the enormous fridge and made myself a quick sandwich.
A search of the walk-in pantry turned up some sea salted wafer crackers for Madden, since the doctor advised against heavy food right away.
I carried it all back upstairs and set the waters and crackers on the nightstand, in case he needed them when he woke. I was exhausted but sleep refused to come, so I finished my sandwich and pulled a blanket over my legs, and settled into the oversized chair next to his bed and watched his chest rise and fall.
It seemed that every time he pushed me away, something pulled us back together. It was a roller coaster ride with him and right now he needed me, so with him was where I’d stay.
* * *
“Well hello there, sleepyhead,” I said with a smile, uncurling myself from the chair. I grabbed the bottle of water from the wine chiller I brought up to keep it cold and opened the cap.
When I handed it to him, he sat halfway up on one elbow and guzzled the contents. When he winced, I reached for his pain pills. It had been over ten hours since we left the hospital, so it was safe for him to have more. I shook out two into my palm.
“Just one. I hate feeling so f**king helpless,” he said in a sleep-deepened voice.
I gave him one and another bottle of water. After he finished it he lay back down with a deep sigh. I brushed the hair back from his face. He caught my hand and brought it down over his heart, hiding it there where I felt the beating under my fingertips.
“About those two men,” he said. “You should never have been involved in any of that.” He sounded truly sorry, his voice even breaking a little.
I wasn’t sure if it was the meds talking or not, but I gently climbed onto the bed next to him and settled against the side that was not hurt. I laid my head on his bare chest and ran my fingers up and over his shoulder.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “You could have died today.” I fought back the sick feeling and tried to focus on the fact that he was okay and lying next to me. Impulsively I pressed my lips to his chest. Madden tightened his hold on me and pulled me even closer.
“Who were they? Why did they call you Alex?” I finally asked.
He tensed under me and I wanted for him to tell me that it was none of my business. But then he exhaled and relaxed. He ran his fingers over my hair and the thumping in his chest sped up.
“Alex is the name I used to go by a long time ago.” I waited for him to go on and he was quiet for so long that I thought he might have fallen back asleep, but then his chest rumbled and he started talking again. “I’ve never told anyone about my past.”
I pulled the blankets up over us and rested my hand on his neck, softly stroking along his jaw. He seemed so vulnerable that I wanted to make sure he knew he was safe. That he could tell me anything.