“Anything else?” he asks, the middle of his brows dipping in concern.
“I’m good,” I assure him. “And if you have something—”
“Don’t even dare finish that sentence,” he says, his gaze searing into me. “The only place I want to be is right here with you. We’re going to spend the next forty-eight hours binge watching whatever the hell you want while you rest and heal.” His tone leaves no room for argument, so I don’t.
“I’m going to shower real quick,” he says. “While I do that, figure out what you want to watch.”
“Okay.” I cuddle into the blankets and grab my laptop so I can check my work emails.
“Nope.” He snags my laptop from me. “No work. You need to rest.”
Before I can argue, he’s gone, with the laptop.
Using the remote, I click through the different options of what to watch, but as I’m going from show to show, my mind begins to wander back to last night.
Dancing with Lexi.
Drinking.
Meeting Kenny.
Dancing with Kenny.
Drinking with Kenny.
I was so caught up in trying to find Mr. Perfect, I wasn’t paying attention. And it nearly got me raped… or worse, killed.
How could I be so stupid not to see what his intentions were? All he wanted to do was drug me. The thought is both scary and depressing. I watch women meet men all the time. They flirt and laugh and it leads to more. Why can’t that happen for me? Why does the one guy I actually like not like me back? And the guy I try to get to know, to push the other guy from my thoughts, have to be a crazy psycho?
I sigh and cuddle farther into my blanket. Maybe I just need to take a little break from trying to find the perfect guy… So far this love stuff isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Maybe my perfect path isn’t finding the perfect man, maybe it’s just finding myself. I can focus on cooking and my work…
But even as the thoughts flow through my head, it saddens me. The way my heart feels full when I hold Abigail. The way it thumps against my chest when Chase looks at me and talks to me. I want more. It’s too bad I can’t figure out how to get it. And clearly going to the club isn’t the way to go about it. Not if I want to remain alive…
“What’s going through that beautiful head of yours?” Chase asks, stepping into my room. His hair is dripping wet from his shower, and since he’s still in the middle of putting on his shirt, his chest and abs are on display. Why must he always do that? Is it too much to ask that he finishes getting dressed before he comes near me? It’s like his goal in life is to tease me…
My gaze drags lower. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts that are hanging off his hips and show off how fit he is. He finishes putting his shirt on, hiding the goods, and I mentally pout, already missing the view.
“Georgia.” He chuckles, having obviously caught me staring. Oh well, if he’s going to walk around half-naked, then he can’t be shocked when I stare. “Before I walked in you looked like you were deep in thought.”
“Just thinking about that stupid perfect path.”
“You know there’s no perfect path, right?” He walks over and sits on the bed next to me. “Life isn’t perfect and no path you take will be either as long as you’re out of that shell and in the real world.” There’s a hard edge to his voice I’ve never heard before.
“You have no idea what real life is like,” he continues. “Women get drugged every day, raped, killed. Only the rich and privileged think there are perfect paths because they don’t experience the shit us poor people do.” Us poor people do…
“You make six figures a year as a firefighter, drive a BMW, and live in a nice condo,” I point out. “You hardly have room to judge.” I don’t know a lot about his childhood, but even if he was poor, he’s not anymore.
“I lost my sister when she was eighteen,” he says, shocking the hell out of me. “She overdosed after she became addicted to drugs because her asshole dealer boyfriend got her hooked. I found her in his house dead. I was seventeen. That’s where I was yesterday… at my mom’s. It was my sister’s birthday, and like every year, my mom was drowning herself in a bottle.”
Oh my God, no wonder he’s freaking out. I was drugged on the birthday of his sister who died from drugs. Without hesitation, I sit up and pull Chase into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through.” I wrap my arms around him tighter and he sinks against me.