Mr. Broken More than Money

"Hey, Zoey. It's been a while."

I let his deep, warm voice wash over me. There hadn't been a time or place that I didn't desperately want to hear his voice saying my name in the last five years. But now, standing there with him right in front of me, all I wanted to do was run into his arms and pretend nothing had happened, that nothing had changed.

"Hey, River," I said, not really knowing what else to say. I instantly regretted being there, seeing him. I’d thought I could do it, but all those old feelings had flooded back, and with that came the fear and the hurt.

"Hello, Zoey. You're prompt. I appreciate it. The agency said you were the best," Mr. Wentworth said as he came around the corner. The man didn't look as cruel as he had the last time I’d seen him.

"Good morning, Mr. Wentworth. It's nice to see you again."

"Well, since Zoey is here, I'm going to get going. I have a big day ahead of me, and you are in capable hands."

"I'm a fuckin' adult. I don't need to be in anyone's hands."

I stood there waiting for River to kick me out behind his father, but he didn't. He just stood there and watched me intently, the same way he used to look at me before he tore all my clothes off and made me scream his name for hours. River didn't say anything until the door closed behind his father. "So what's little Zoey Baker doing in my lair?"

"I'm here to do a job," I said, grinding my hands together to keep them from doing anything crazy. This was a bad idea. This whole job was a bad idea. "Maybe this was a bad idea." I turned and headed to the door before I felt his large hand on my forearm.

"Not so fast."

I turned around and faced him. "River, this was a stupid idea. I don't need the money that badly to put myself through this kind of torture."

"Why do you need money?" he asked, tilting his head in question.

I shrugged. "Life."

"Actually, why are you even taking this job? You should be doing your residency now."

"Stuff came up. I had to quit med school. I never did my MCATs."

River stepped closer to me, closing the small amount of space that was keeping me upright. "What stuff?"

I felt my temper rising. I tried to yank my arm out of his hands, but his grip was too firm. "Just stuff, okay? Plans change. Life changes. Sometimes dreams die. Can you let go of my arm? I'm leaving."

"No, you're not."

"River, you can't keep me here."

"You got hired to do a job, and you're going to do it. Besides, you need to give your two weeks before you quit."

"That's such bullshit. You don't even want me here."

"Well, I changed my mind. I need you to handle things around here," River said as he waved his other hand in the air.

"What kind of things?"

"I don't know. What did my dad hire you for?"

I burst out laughing, which caused him to smile. It was one of those slow, sexy smiles that made you curl your toes. River always had the best smile I'd ever seen. It was almost like it reached his eyes before it found his lips. "I'm supposed to just keep the place tidy and make you some meals."

"Great, let's start there. How about you make me some breakfast?"

"I can do that. Show me to the kitchen."

River guided me to the kitchen—more like dragged me, since he didn't let go of my arm.

"You gonna let go of me?"

He dropped my arm as if it was on fire, "Yes, sorry," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck.

I smiled, remembering that he did that when he was nervous or frustrated. Something that most people wouldn't have known, but I did because I knew River Wentworth better than I knew myself.

"How do pancakes sound?"

"Delicious."

"Can you direct me to where everything is?"

"Oh, sorry," he said before rushing into the cupboards and taking out everything I needed before heading to the fridge. "Want anything other than milk and butter?"

"Nope, unless you want something else in it."

"No. Your pancakes are perfect on their own."

I abandoned the work at hand on the kitchen counter and turned to look at River, still unsure how this man could make my heart beat so wildly. "I'm surprised you remember them. It's been a minute."

He tilted his head, looking more like the sweet boy I'd fallen in love with and not like the hard man he appeared to be now. "There isn't a single thing about you that I don't still remember."

"Is that why you broke up with me?" I asked. I couldn't believe I’d said it. Sure, I'd been thinking about it for four long years, but I was still shocked that I said it, out loud, to him. Though, if I were honest, I’d never thought I'd see him again. Maybe that's what it was, this need for closure, to finally rid my heart of River Wentworth and the tattoo he'd etched into my soul.