I don't look at Damaris again. I pick up the book, straighten my scrubs and walk back to my life; the life I've worked so hard to build for myself.
Chapter 44
Adley
I'm sitting in the darkness in Crew's apartment. It's nearing nine o'clock. I didn't go to the hospital at seven. There wasn’t any need to. My intention, when I told him to meet me there was simple. I wanted to ease the burden that he's been carrying for years. I don't know exactly what happened between him and his dad, but I know that their relationship is nothing like the one I have with my own father.
I wanted to meet Eli, and sing Crew's praises and maybe, just maybe, repair part of what's been broken.
I didn't get my chance.
Eli Benton took his last breath at one minute after five with his wife by his side.
Crew texted me to tell me. It was direct and to the point.
Eli is dead.
I was just leaving work, on legs that were still wobbly after my encounter with Damaris.
Her words shook me to my core.
I went back into the clinic after Tilly called me in and threw my mind and body into my job. I helped hold down a Saint Bernard that was in the clinic because of a splinter in its paw. It cried out when Dr. Hunt yanked the thing piece of
wood out. I cried too and everyone assumed it was my caring nature on display yet again.
They were wrong. I was crying for the twenty-one-year-old girl who walked into a sex club because her boyfriend wanted it more than anything.
I hear Crew's key in the lock, but I don't turn from where I'm sitting on his sofa, my feet resting on the edge of the coffee table.
I came here straight from work because I wanted to be close to him. I knew he'd go to the hospital and spend time with his family. I didn't want to intrude. Grief is a private process for some. I know it is for Crew.
I took a shower, threw my scrubs into his washing machine and dressed in my panties and one of his T-shirts. It's too big and bulky, but it smells like him.
His keys hit the table before he rounds the corner and slows. I hear the hesitation in his steps.
"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Crew."
He stalks toward me, heavy, measured steps that don't stop until he's almost on top of me.
His arms reach out and I grab for them, letting him pull me to my feet. He doesn't speak, but his body's movements say everything. He pulls me closer, tugging my legs up until I circle them around his waist.
His lips find mine in a messy, frenzied kiss. I taste the salt of his tears as he pushes my mouth open with his tongue.
We set out on a path across the living room, down the hallway and finally to his bedroom. He lowers me onto the bed, before ridding himself of his clothes.
I stare up at him, our eyes saying more to each other than our words ever could. I know he's grieving. I know he doesn't want to. I know pain like this is what is buried beneath his calm, controlled exterior, and his sense of humor and his deep compassion.
"I need you," he rasps. "Fuck, do I need you."
I pull the shirt over my head and reach out with my hand. "I'm here, Crew."
He falls into my arms, his face awash with tears, his shoulders surging forward as he rips my panties from my body and pushes my thighs apart.
"I need to feel loved," he growls before he lashes at the seam of my pussy with his tongue. "I want to feel needed."
I stop him with two fists to his hair. I turn his head, so he's looking up at me, his warm breath trailing over my wetness. "I love you, Crew. I need you."
Tears stream down his handsome face as he licks me once more before he whispers back, "I love you, too."